Page 184 of Becoming Selfish

“Good. Fuck that guy,” Marc states without sarcasm.

“Fuck what guy?” Eli asks as he walks around the couch, taking a seat next to me before pulling me to sit across his lap.

“Zac.”

“Oh, fuck that guy! I swear to god if I ever meet that motherfucker—”

“Can we talk about something else?” I interrupt, not wanting to relive the worst week of my life from last year. I already started thinking about it after that conversation with Jack, and I just can’t handle more today.

“Let’s see the tattoos,” I request of the boys.

Eli holds out his tatted arm, his bandage long removed, as Marc cautiously peels the plastic wrap away from his fresh ink.

“They look so good.”

It’s a simple design that coordinates perfectly with the rest of Eli’s sleeve, but also doesn’t look too extravagant on Marc’s bare arm. They each have two dots, smaller than a dime, one of which is entirely filled with black ink while the other is just an outline. The first circle is filled in on Marc’s because he’s the older of the two, and the second is filled in on Eli’s arm because he’s the younger, while the empty circle represents the other.

“Did it hurt?” I turn to Marc.

“No, not really. The shading kind of sucked. But probably nothing compared to yours.” He motions towards my tattoo. “Right on the bone, that hurt worse, I’m sure.”

“Did it hurt you?” I sarcastically ask my boyfriend. The guy’s arm is covered in ink. I highly doubt a small tattoo above the crease of his elbow hurt him at all.

“No, I like the feeling at this point. It’s reached the stage where it’s addictive.” Eli lifts his arm, revealing the bit of blank skin on the inside of his bicep. “Though I’m not looking forward to filling this spot. I heard this hurts like a bitch.”

“Be right back,” Marc says, interrupting his brother as he gets off the couch with his empty cake plate in hand, heading to the kitchen to put it in the sink. Or to get a third slice, I’m not too sure.

“What do these all represent?” I graze the ink on Eli’s arm. I’ve looked at these tattoos hundreds of times, but I didn’t know they had a family meaning besides his mom’s name.

“Well, the big oak tree represents family,” he says as he rolls up his sleeve over his shoulder, revealing more of his toned arm to me. “The roots more so. This rose right here is for my dad. It’s the rose from the Grateful Dead logo. It’s his favorite band, and he always used to play their music throughout the house when we were growing up. And this funny looking heart that doesn’t connect at the tip.” He points to the next tattoo. “Mary used to write Marc and me a note and put it in our lunch every day when we were kids. She always used to sign it with this weird looking heart. It was practically her signature, so that’s for her.”

I trace the black ink. Even though none of these tattoos would go together in theory, they are oddly cohesive as they intertwine on Eli’s arm. More so now that I know the meaning behind them. And you would think that a heart and a flower might look feminine, but they don’t. Not when they’re in black ink and pulled taut due to Eli’s muscles.

If this weekend has taught me anything, it’s that Eli’s family is the most important thing in his life. I once thought it might have been hockey, but it’s become evident that I was wrong. This weekend has been great, and I loved spending time with the Maddisons and the Joneses, but I’ve become even more aware of the fact that Eli will never be able to do this with my relatives. That I no longer have a family that he could spend a holiday with.

“Does it bother you that I don’t have a family?” I quickly ask before my mind catches up with my mouth.

“What?” Eli’s eyes are wide with shock.

“Does it bother you that you will never get to do this with my family?” I ask, motioning around the house.

“Logan, are you serious?”

I shyly nod.

“Fuck. Come here.” He wraps his arms around me, hugging me in his lap. “I would’ve never brought you here if I thought it was going to make you miss your parents. I would’ve happily stayed on campus with you this weekend. I don’t want you to be sad when you’re here, baby.”

“No. No, I’m so glad we came this weekend. I had so much fun, but I just feel bad that you’ll never get to do this with my family.”

“You have a family. I’m your family,” he adds in a desperate tone as my heart drops, realizing I may have hurt his feelings. “Marc is your family.”

I stay silent because I don’t know what to say. Eli will never get to meet my parents, and that’s becoming a harder pill to swallow than I expected. They’ll never get to meet the man I’m in love with. My first love, and probably my best love.

“Do I wish I could’ve met them?” Eli breaks the silence. “Of course, I would’ve loved to have met the people who raised you. Mostly so I could’ve thanked them, but Logan, you have a family here. I don’t want you to feel like you don’t.”

Eli lifts my face from his shoulder so he can look at me, but I’m having a hard time meeting his gaze. I feel oddly emotional today, and even though I’m not crying, Eli can read me like a book, and I don’t want him to feel bad for me right now.

“We don’t have to come back for Christmas. If it’s hard for you, we can stay on campus and spend the day just you and I.”

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