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Her face was inches away from mine. “Why? Tell me, please.”
“Because I would be scared of trying it and not succeeding.” I laid her out next to me. With one hand, I pushed her knotted hair out of her face before stroking her cheek with my thumb. “I’m going to tell you about the night I decided never to paint again.”
And I told her everything, holding nothing back, and I didn’t have to tiptoe anymore around any mention of the Joneses. I let her see how important her father was to me, how fucked up I was, how unhappy I’d been in those days.
“You never tried to go back to it?”
“No, everything’s still there on top of the dresser.”
“But Axel, how’s it possible…”
“Because I don’t feel it the way you do. And if I don’t feel it, if I’m just doing something, then it’s better not to bother getting my hands dirty. I told you, the day you understand me, you’ll see yourself better. Because you’ve got magic, babe. You’ve got it all.”
“But it’s so, so sad, Axel.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I bent over her and kissed her slowly.
“So I’m going to have to spend my whole life wondering what I look like through your eyes, how your hands would draw me…” she sighed as she embraced me.
I couldn’t answer because I had a knot in my throat and her words awakened a charge I thought I’d forgotten. One I’d buried. Not very deeply. I’d just abandoned it. That was all.
“Wait. I know. I’ve got an idea!” She smiled at me.
A half hour later, we were in the car debating the details. When Leah knew for certain, we got out and walked to the tattoo shop on the corner at the end of the street. I explained the particulars to the guy behind the counter reading a newspaper. He gave us a thumbs-up and we walked into the studio.
The guy handed me a marker. I walked over to Leah slowly while she lifted her shirt, leaving the edge of her breast and her entire flank exposed. I took a deep breath. I sat in front of her and slid my fingers over the skin covering her ribs and the right side of her torso.
“Don’t overthink it, Axel.”
“It’s forever…”
“I don’t care, it’s your handwriting.”
I held my breath as I ran the marker tip over her skin, which rose up in a patch of gooseflesh. I slid it softly up and down and up again, tracing out every syllable, every vowel, just for her.
I pulled back when I was done. I read it: “Let it be.”
The song we danced to on the porch the first night I kissed her. The night when everything started to change for us.
“You like it?” I asked.
“It’s perfect.”
The guy got his materials ready and walked over. I watched meditatively as my letters were engraved in her skin, how every trace, every drop of ink seemed to unite us forever in a memory that was ours alone.
100
_________
Axel
It was the second-to-last saturday in October when I walked into my parents’ house with an anniversary gift in hand. They weren’t going to celebrate until the following Friday, when Oliver was back and we would all go to dinner at Justin and Emily’s house. They had planned things so Mom wouldn’t have to cook that day. At six in the evening, I rang the door.
My father opened and hugged me. “How’s it going, dude? You look good.”
“You too. I like that pendant.”
“It’s a tree of life from the Kabbalah,” he said proudly.
