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“How do you think it is?” he says after two hours of sketching. This is the only draft he’s let me see, even though he’s tossed a dozen papers aside because he wasn’t happy with them that are still on the floor.
I grab the paper and realize I’m so excited that my hands are shaking.
I gasp with the intensity and rawness of the design he created.
There is a little girl in a cage that reminds me of myself with her jet-black hair and slouched shoulders. She looks as sad, lonely, and scared of her life as I feel. Her eyes are focused on somewhere above her head, and I can see what she’s looking at. A baby angel. A choking sound breaks out of my throat as I caress the baby angel who is trying to rescue the little girl. I know she won’t rescue her. No one will be rescued in this scenario. The scene has a break with a splash of ink that looks like crows. In the next scene, there is an apple tree and a woman who reaches for an apple. She has the same black hair, same haunted look, and she looks more like me now. I know what that apple represents, it’s the hope Nick has given me. The hope of love and happily ever after I’ll never have. I swallow the fear of the long black snake that is wrapped around the woman’s, my ankles. The snake must be all my fears and everything that’s in my past. And just like my past, the snake is surrounded by barbed wire, because my past is full of thorns and blood.
“I want this.”
Pax smiles sadly at me. “Where do you want me to tattoo it?”
My answer comes out without hesitation. “On my stomach, right under my belly button. To where they have taken away my angel.”
Chapter 33
Present
We’re lying in each other’s arms with a comfortable familiarity. His fingers move over my tattoo, and I listen to his heartbeat like we do this every day.
“It’s been years, Nick. Why didn’t you give up on me or forget about me? Why did you put yourself in trouble to find me?”
He turns to face me. “I had to. Because when your first love is taken away from you, you have no other choice but to pursue it u
ntil you get it back.”
“It sounds a little bit obsessive,” I whisper, can’t keep the smile away from my lips.
He shrugs. “Who cares?”
Before I can make another remark, his lips find mine for a heated kiss. He caresses my body like he worships me, without any urgency. His kisses follow the path of his hands, showing utmost attention to every inch of skin that’s bare to his eyes. My body is on fire as he kisses, bites, licks, and sucks my breasts without breaking our intense eye-contact. Finally, he reaches my belly. He licks my tattoo like he’s redrawing it on my skin with his tongue. When he goes over every little detail with his tongue, he starts from the beginning this time with his kisses.
My eyes well up with tears, my ribcage gets tight around my heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
I nod, and my answer comes out as a sob, “Me too.”
He looks at me, not knowing what to do. Just when he’s about to move up, I put my hand on his shoulder to keep him where he is.
“Make me forget,” I whisper. It’s a request, a plea, and a desperate call from my heart I never let be heard. For years, I’ve carried my past around me the way Atlas carries the world. Now, I just want to be free from it all. And I want him to be the one who frees me.
***
After a shower and getting dressed, we leave my apartment. Nick doesn’t say where we’re going, but he looks so smug about it.
It feels strange walking on the street, hand in hand with him. We must look like a happy couple from outside, no one can guess what we’ve been through, and no one can understand how we can get together after years apart.
I've pulled away from my reverie when I see where we are.
“Ice-cream shop? Is this what you were excited about?” I laugh at him.
He looks at me like I’m being ridiculous and pulls me into the shop. It’s a vintage looking place, the décor, the old television on the corner, and Jukebox give the place a homey feeling with nostalgia. Even the stuff wears vintage clothes, I feel like I jumped into an old movie I saw on tv.
We take a seat next to the window and give our orders to a young girl who looks like Marilyn Monroe. When our ice-creams come in cups, Nick clears his throat.
“Be my girlfriend, Nikki,” he blurts out.
With that line, I’m back to years ago when he told me the exact same words. Now, I’m not a kid anymore, but those words still have the same effect on me.
