Page 27 of The Now in Forever
Ed clasps his hands on the table. "But what will you both do?”
Lenny shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”
“This is Hattie.” Ed smiles at me.
“Hey,” they both say.
Sasha is quick but careful. After a few minutes, Lenny is done. “Voila.”
He holds up his arm and shows us the cutest little black Pac-Man ghost tattoo.
“I need a beer.” Lenny heads off through an open door to the kitchen.
Sasha looks at Ed then me with a gleam in her eyes. “Who’s next?”
Ed raises his hand. “I am.” He looks at me. “Unless you want a stick and poke?”
“A stick and poke?”
Sasha nods. “It’s what we call these homemade tattoos. They don’t hurt.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lenny says from the kitchen, cracking open a can.
I don’t have any tattoos at all, let alone a homemade one. “No, you can go.”
Ed takes the chair in front of Sasha and holds out his forearm like he’s about to give blood. He points to a spot a little beneath his elbow crease. “Right here, please.”
“Okay,” Sasha says. “What do you want?”
“Something to commemorate the day.” He looks at me, his green eyes shimmering.
I picture him holding that book, bellowing out the prose—a force of nature—and speak without a second thought. “A tornado.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up on the side. “Easier than a sandstorm.”
The tattoo is simple, and Sasha is swift. Ed shows me his spiral line of a tornado once it’s finished. It’s perfect. A snapshot of him.
Sasha looks to me. “Sure you don’t want one?” Part of me falters for a second. I could get something small, maybe on my ankle. A heart—no. A book? A little book would be sexy, adventurous.
“Can you draw a book?”
Sasha smiles. “Yep.”
Ed catches my eye. “I’m going to grab a beer. Want one?”
“No, thanks.”
Taking Ed’s seat, I push down my sock to the top of my foot.
Sasha grabs a new sewing needle and dips it in the pot of India ink. I inhale sharply, bracing myself as she brings the needle to just below my ankle and punctures the skin. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it makes a small dot. A black dot that I will have forever. What if this turns into a day I don’t want to remember? What if someday I don’t like books? That’s a little ridiculous. But the permanence of this act hits me all at once, and my head swims. I stand up abruptly, hitting the table and knocking over the ink in the process. “Sorry.”
Sasha grabs a towel off the chair. “No worries. I have more ink. Did it hurt?”
I run my fingers through my hair, my unintentional green streak catching my eye. “It’s forever.”
Sasha nods her eyes soft, almost all knowing. “Forever is composed of nows.”
Deep in my ribs, a bell rings.
