THAT NIGHT
“Know which one you’re going to get?” I ask Andy.
He walks the length of the wall. “None of these are right,” he says. He looks disappointed.
“How about some stars?” I suggest.
“Nah . . .”
“Maybe you should think about it and come back another time,” I say.
“No . . . I want to get it tonight. I have to get it tonight.”
“But why?”
“Because . . .” And I’m not sure he’s going to say more as he walks to another wall filled with images. I follow him. “It’s gotta be about now,” he says. He looks around like he’s searching for something. “Because you know what, Frenchie? Now is really all that we’ve got, right? The past is done. The future . . . the future is just too . . .” He shakes his head and I kind of understand what he means.
He shakes his head. “No. The future doesn’t exist. The future never actually exists.” I’m about to ask what he means by that when he cuts me off and says, “But these all suck.”
He shakes his head in disgust, but then his eyes meet mine and there’s something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel stripped. Like he can see too much of me. Like he can see that I’ve been in love with him since ninth grade. Even though I don’t want to break the connection, I can’t keep looking at him this way. I can’t let him see what I don’t want him to see. I laugh nervously and look at the wall again. A fairy with a wicked smile gives me the finger.
“It has to be about now,” he says. I nod without looking back over at him. I can feel him staring at me and my face feels hot.
I concentrate on the pissed-off fairy.
A minute later, he’s at the counter. I breathe easier without his eyes on me.
“You coming?” he asks when a woman starts leading him to one of the ink stations. I follow, but I’m confused, because I didn’t realize he had made up his mind already.
A guy with a tattooed neck stands up, introduces himself as Kaz, and shakes Andy’s hand. “What are we getting today?” he asks Andy. Kaz has an English accent and he seems like a contradicting mix of formality and antiestablishment.
Andy looks my way. “I just want a name, over here,” he says, grabbing his right shoulder.
“Right, then. What name do you want?”
“Frenchie,” Andy says without hesitation. He looks at me and grins.
My mouth drops open as I realize what he’s doing. “Are you insane!” I yell. “You can’t do that!”
Kaz looks back and forth between the two of us. “A bit of a shocker for the girlfriend, I see,” he says.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say, even though my stomach gets fluttery over the assumption.
“Oh, well,” he says and sits there, looking between the two of us. “She’s right, bloke. You’ll probably regret it someday, especially if she’s not your girl. Cool name though. What exactly does it imply?” He grins at me.
“It implies that my name is Frenchie,” I say slowly and deliberately. I resist the urge to add “dumbass” to the end of my sentence.
He laughs. “Right, then”—he says and then looks over at Andy and says—“well what’s it gonna be?”
“Andy, you can’t do this. You really can’t. A tattoo is forever.”
“I promise you, I won’t regret it. And nothing is forever, Frenchie.”
“This is really stupid, not to mention . . .”
“Just do it,” Andy says to Kaz.
“You’re sure then?” Kaz asks. Andy nods and takes off his shirt. Seeing Andy there, his shoulders and his skin, makes me lose my ability to rationalize. I look away nervously because all I can do is imagine what his skin would feel like against my lips. And then, the thought of my name on his shoulder kind of thrills me.
I shake my head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Some day you’ll have to explain yourself to your wife.”
“I will never have to explain myself to anyone,” he says. Kaz pipes up and says, “Right on, bloke. So you want this name in what kind of lettering?”
Andy shrugs. “Whatever you think. I’ll leave it up to chance.”
“Ahhh, lettering left up to chance. Impossibly impulsive,” Kaz jokes. “Well then, give me a minute and I’ll be right back,” he says. Andy nods and lays shirtless on the chair. I sit at a nearby chair wondering why the hell he would tattoo my name on his shoulder. My name. It seems ridiculous and stupid . . . and on some level, incredibly touching and lovely.
“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want something more . . . ,” I say. I look down because selfishly, I do want Andy to tattoo my name on his shoulder. Shamefully, it would thrill me even though I would scoff at any other guy doing the same for any other girl. “Don’t you want to get something more meaningful?”
“It is, though,” Andy says. He smiles and I think I’m going to melt into the floor. I sit next to him and watch as Kaz draws up the sketch of my name in the back.
When he comes back, Kaz sets my name on Andy’s bare skin. He peels away the stencil to reveal a most beautiful sight. My chest fills with giddiness and I feel like I’m atop the Swiss Alps breathing the freshest air.
“That’s going to look quite fucking right,” Kaz says. “Take a look.”
Andy cranes his neck to look into the mirror that Kaz holds up by his shoulder.
“Perfect, man,” he says. Then he turns toward me and says, “What do you think?”
I think it is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. It makes me want to ask Andy if he wouldn’t mind never wearing a shirt again so everyone can see my name on his shoulder and understand what it means, even if I don’t. All I can say, though, is, “But it’s . . . permanent.”
“Frenchie,” he says, shaking his head from side to side and letting out a low chuckle. “Nothing is permanent.” And the way he says it makes me suddenly feel foolish. And I just want us to leave, but the buzz of the gun has already started and all I can do is watch as Andy sits there, with his eyes closed, taking in the pain of the incessant needle.