Page 141 of The Comedown

Julian flips to his back, sighing. “What else you got, Poohbear?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else do you want to know?”

“Your tattoos? Do you…”

“Yes?”

“Do you get one for…”

“For?”

“Do you always get one for…you know…”

“Literally no idea. For what?”

I can tell by the smile in his voice he’s enjoying this.

“Women,” I say, closing my eyes.

“Women, huh?”

He hesitates, and I grimace, hating myself for asking.

“I get tattoos for a lot of things, including people, some of them women.”

I crack an eye, peeking over at him, but he’s the one staring at the ceiling now.

“When I feel strongly about something, I usually get it tattooed on me in some way. Even if I hate something, I’ll get it inked on my skin.”

“Why?”

“Because emotions are… They don’t always come easy for me. Tattoos are a way to remember every one I experience even when I can’t…actually…remember.”

Emotions don’t come easy when you flood them out with drugs and alcohol. One place Julian can’t wash them off though is his skin. I wish he was capable of keeping them in his heart, too.

He could be…if he stopped the constant flooding.

“Will you tell me about them?”

“The women?”

I nudge his shoulder with mine.

“Oh, you mean the tattoos.” He grins, telling me to pick out whichever one I want.

Scanning him over, I choose the letters on his knuckles. They spell the word “MAMAS” on one hand, then “BOY” on the other.

He blows out a breath I feel bang around inside my own chest.

“Your mom. You’ve never told me about her.”

“She was…” He thinks for a minute, then says, “You know as a kid everybody thinks their parents are idols, especially their moms? So full of life, so beautiful, so perfect. Right?”

Remembering my mom, I don’t move a muscle. I thought the same thing about her, about both my parents. When I went with Bodee—when they handed me over to him—I still thought that. That they were doing it for me, to help me and my future. But it wasn’t for me or my future. It was for theirs. They gave me away for their own benefit just like Bodee did.

“I thought that about my mom, too, I guess, except I started noticing the cracks, the imperfections, way earlier than most people do. Not at thirty, or twenty, or—”