Eternity (34 page)

“That sucks” he complains, “well I guess it's six weeks apart then”

I look at him surprised, I had assumed that as it was so difficult for us to see each other again, that we would just enjoy the time we had left and let the flame sizzle out once I went home. I didn't think he might actually want to try and hold on to what we have.

“Really? You'll come to England?”

“Yes, you can't get away from me that easily Ms. Mavers” he laughs.

For some unknown reason I feel like crying, I'm happy that it's not the end and I'm sad that I still have to cope with six weeks without him, then who knows how long we will be apart after that visit; this whole trip has been a roller coaster of emotions and even as it culminates to an end, I can start to see a whole new one starting up again in the near future.

This is going to be one of the hardest things I've ever had to do; even when he is in the shower for ten minutes I feel the ache in my chest from missing him, so I have no idea how on earth I'm going to survive weeks, no months, away from him. And will the few short days we do finally have together be enough? It would be different if it wasn't Mexico, it's such a long and expensive flight, even if we could find the time, there's no guarantee we will find the money as well. I suppose it won't be so hard for Carlos, but I can't predict how things will go for me. Right now I'm financially stable, but if I have a few slow months at work, potentially it could all come crashing down.

I have to chastise myself, there is no point worrying about things you have no control over, I have a minimum of four months to save before I am even allowed to take more holiday from work, plus I can make sure I have money left after decorating the house and it's not like I will have to pay for the hotel next time, I wouldn't have thought. All in all I can safely say that money wise I will be fine for at least the next two possible trips back.

My mind is whirring with possibilities, the hows and whens hastily popping up and wedging themselves into my brain. I think we might just be able to do this, emotionally I'm sure it will almost kill me, but if I can survive that side of things, the rest is just down to organisation.

“OK, lets do it” I agree.

We spend the day locked away together, cherishing the precious few moments we will get together. No one comes round, I'm relieved that his siblings don't launch yet another attack today, it's exhausting dealing with them; plus their relentless abuse towards me would put a real dampener on our cozy time together.

It's a beautiful day in all ways. The sun is shining, and we spend all day talking of our hopes and dreams and our love for each other. I don't remember a time when I was more content than I am right now.

My Adonis has done so much for me, cured my broken heart, filled me with confidence, saved me from my ex-husband, his family and most of all, from myself.

After years with Jake I had become safe and boring and sensible, never taking a risk for fear of retribution. I was so unhappy in my own skin and I didn't even know it, until Carlos came along and released me from all that was binding me to my insecurities.

I have so much more to thank him for than he will ever know.

I can't believe that in three short weeks my life has done a complete turn around, I am returning home a changed woman, with the love of my life in tow.

It's early afternoon when I realise it's been three days since I last spoke to Caz and she must be going mad with curiosity about what happened to make me change my flight the message I left covered the bare essentials, but I didn't go into much detail, and then there's everything else that's happened since that I want to tell her about. I don't want to cut into my time with Carlos though, so I fire off an email to her instead of calling. While I fire up my trusty laptop, Carlos pops out to get a few provisions in as we are running low on food, which is ideal as it means I can go into more detail than I would have if he was sat watching over my shoulder.

My inbox is full to the brim, but nothing is marked as urgent so I decide it can all wait till I get back, instead I get straight down to business emailing Caz.

To: Cassie Black

From: Kaitlin Mavers

Subject: Quick update

Hi Caz,

I realised I left you a bit high and dry with that message the other day. In case you didn't guess, Carlos came and got me at the airport, we've made up and told his family where to go. We have had a few run ins with them since, but I will fill you in on all the details when I get back. I'm so sad about leaving,  but I'm also excited about seeing you again and giving you all the gossip!

Things are going amazingly with Carlos, you probably won't be too happy to hear that I have let myself get in too deep, but it looks like he has too, so I'm guessing you can forgive me for that.

Can't wait to see you on Friday, just a reminder, my flight gets in at about 13.00 your time, so I will see you after baggage collection at about half past.

Missing you, speak soon

Kate

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

There that will do, it will take hours to tell her everything and that's assuming I even remember it all. It's so easy to forget all the bad stuff that happened when you spend a day like today, locked away from the outside, just us against the world.

Once the computer is switched off and packed away I find myself with nothing to do; I thought Carlos would be super quick at the shop, but apparently not, it’s a full hour before he’s back, by which time I’ve retired to the side of the house to sun myself by the pool.

I hear him calling out from inside, “Sweetness, where are you?”

“Out here” I shout back.

“Out where?” comes his confused reply, making me giggle. Forcing myself up, I walk back into the house to find him looking behind the couch.

“What are you doing?” I ask, making him jump up.

“Oh there you are!” he sighs.

“Well I wasn’t behind the sofa” I laugh, still not quite sure if he seriously thought I was crouching behind the furniture, for some unknown reason.

“Where have you been? You’ve been gone forever” I ask, sauntering over to him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“I’ve been sorting something out, I’ve got a surprise for you”

“More surprises? Oh Mr. Johnson, you do spoil me terribly” I chastise him, unable to keep the smile from my face.

He removes my hands, takes a step back and pulls his top off over his head.

“Mmmm I’m liking this surprise already” I giggle childishly.

He turns so that his left side is facing me and lifts his arm, there is a patch of cling film, about two inches square, taped to his ribs, under which is a murky red and black smudge.

“Can you see it?” he asks eagerly waiting for my reaction.

“Err” I’m not sure what I’m looking at as I lean in closer; then it all becomes clear, he has got a tattoo of two eternity symbols, which overlap and interlink with each other. It’s only about and inch and a half wide, but in thick black lines that almost look as though they jump up off his skin at you.

I breathe in quickly, it’s not too bad I guess, it’s not like he had my name inked onto him; but it’s still been done on a whim, so there’s still a good chance he will live to regret his hasty decision.

Well there’s nothing I can do about it either way, except show some appreciation for his wildly romantic gesture.

“Carlos, that’s lovely, did it hurt?” is all the enthusiasm I can muster on such short notice.

“It’s the eternity symbol I had engraved on your necklace, but two together, for me and you” he explains excitedly, my fingers reach up and touch my necklace, I haven’t taken it off since he gave it to me; I was blown away by the significance of the symbol on it.

“I love it” I breathe, finally realising that I really do, it’s got to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.

My hand moves tenderly from my necklace to his side, and I stare into his beautiful green eyes; we have forever. He has twice now committed himself to me for eternity, as far as these things go he has repeatedly been the more forthcoming one throughout our relationship; but anything he can do, I can do too.

As early as I can on Wednesday I scuttle out of the house without waking Carlos and make my way to reception. I’m grateful to find Mari on the desk, as I know she will help me with my unusual request.

“Mari, good morning” I begin cheerfully.

“Ah good morning Kaitlin” she beams, ever since my return she has been overwhelmingly happy to see me every time our paths cross.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something?” I ask tentatively.

“Yes, what can I do?” she offers.

“Where is the nearest place I can get a tattoo?” I say quickly, before I chicken out. She looks at me surprised, but tells me all the same, even insisting on calling for a taxi to take me.

As I get into the cab, nerves hit me as my common sense finally kicks in, I don’t know how safe it is to get tattooed in Mexico, my mind is full of images of dark dirty back rooms and dirty needles, have I gone completely crazy?

Carlos got one, so it can’t be that bad, he’s impulsive, but he’s not stupid, but then I don’t know where he got his done either; I’m sure Mari did her best, but would she really know a safe place to get a tattoo?

I’m just beginning to change my mind when we pull up at the curb. Being that Carlos was only gone an hour, he can’t have gone far, so the likelihood is that this is the same place I tell myself.

Turning to the driver I ask if there are any other tattoo parlours locally, he looks at me blankly before saying yes in a questioning tone. I’m convinced he has no idea what I’m saying and it does anything but fill me with confidence. I motion for him to stay while I check it out, stepping out of the cab and heading to the front door. It looks relatively acceptable from the outside, with posters of different designs on the front and a simple sign hanging above the door saying Tattoo.

Inside, it’s air conditioned and smells of antiseptic, again another good sign; the walls are a clean white colour and the floor is covered in impeccably shiny white tiles, so far so good.

At the reception desk I’m met with a heavily inked man, with a long beard and more piercings than I care to count, it’s a little unnerving, but I’m not sure I could expect anything less in these surroundings.

“Do you speak English?” I ask.

“Yes, little” this was not the reply I was hoping for. Taking the picture I scribbled out myself when Carlos was asleep, from my bag, I show it to him and then point to the inside of my wrist.

“Yes” my bearded friend says confidently, leading me through to the back, where an even more colourful man awaits. They speak to each other, disconcertingly in Spanish, before sitting me down on a plastic stool. The second man fumbles about in a draw for a minute before producing a much neater version of my sketch.

“Yes!” I grin, happy that they have something better to work with. My wrist is quickly wiped with what smells like pure alcohol and then without a word, stands up and leaves the room.

Sitting in this clinical environment, I’m suddenly hit with a wave of nausea, I’ve never had a tattoo and I’m not the best person at handling pain. It’s not even as if I’ve really thought this through, I wanted to do something special to show Carlos how much he meant to me; but in my excitement it’s quite possible that I’m overlooking a much less permanent and painful way of doing that.

My heart starts to race as the walking piece of art returns, still without speaking, I guess his English is even more limited than the other one’s, he takes my wrist and presses the transfer on, holding it up to my face and waiting for me to OK it.

Can I really back out now, I’m stuck in a back room with an intimidating man that doesn’t speak my language and my route to the door is blocked by another equally undesirable guy. The answer is no, no I cannot.

I nod and give him a weak smile, setting him off preparing the ink and the tool, which incidentally looks like a small gun, he repeatedly turns it on and off, filling the room with a buzzing noise, similar to a dentists drill, that puts my teeth on edge.

Finally he takes hold of my hand turning it palm up and exposing my inner wrist, pausing with the needle gun one centimetre from my skin he looks up, “Yes?”

Oh God, this is it, I’m really going to do this, it’s going to hurt like crazy, I’m probably going to faint, I take a deep breath and blow out all my fears, “Yes” I reply.

The second the needle makes contact I instantly regret it, it hurts in a way I had never imagined. The only redeeming thing is that he seems to work in five second blasts, so I know if I count slowly to five, by the time I reach it he will have stopped, if only for a second.

Every now and then the pain wins out and I scrunch my eyes closed against it, struggling to get my brain to go back to concentrating on the counting, it’s only five seconds I lie to myself, you can cope with five seconds, and then another and another.