Tattoo (11 page)

Tears were pouring down her cheeks and by now my arms were around her, rubbing her shoulders. I wanted to make her pain go away.

"I wanted to just get through senior year and go to college and move on with my life. I didn't care about making friends or meeting a guy, I just wanted to be left alone. But then you came along and I fell so damn hard in love with you. Then just like that, BAM we were pregnant and it was happening all over again."

"I'm so sorry Lauren..." I started. She cut me off, she wasn't done yet.

"No, it was ok. I mean I was upset, but I felt like I had a do-over. A chance to do it right. And then we lost her and I know it's my fault. I made a mess of my life before and now I'm being punished and I just can't take it anymore. I can't handle the guilt."

"Lauren, what are you talking about? You didn't cause this! What happened before was not your fault." I turned her to look at me. "He never should have done that to you and if I wasn't so worried about taking care of you, I'd be in my car driving all night to beat his ass."

She laughed and wiped her tears. "You're drunk, you can't drive."

"Ok, details. When I sobered up then I'd start the driving."

She laughed again. It was still beautiful but it was a little more broken this time. 

"Can you forgive me for not telling you?"

That was a hard question, one I wasn't sure I could answer right away. I knew I loved Lauren more than imaginable, and hearing her story just broke my heart. But she still had lied, hadn't trusted me. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I was afraid. I was afraid that you would see me differently. And come on Eric, our relationship was totally on fast forward, it was hard to keep up with it all."

I could agree with that but it still hurt so much to be lied to and to feel like I hardly knew her at all. I didn't know what to say to her, I didn't know how to recover from this. There is only so much one relationship can take until it breaks. I wondered to myself when that point would be.

"Let's just go home," I told her.

TWENTY-ONE

I never stopped loving Lauren, but it became hard to figure us out. We didn't go back to fighting, but we didn't go back to being happy, either. Although I quickly realized that the happiness hadn't been real. During those weeks after Sammie, that we smiled and laughed, we were hiding from all the things we couldn't say. I tried to show her that I still loved her, but it became so strained, so damn hard. Every time I tried to get close, she'd retreat farther away.

Funny how it wasn't her lying that made me unsure about us, I had gotten over that quicker than I'd expected. But what I couldn't get over, was this feeling that kept running through me. This thought that, if we hadn't gotten pregnant, would she even still be with me? I had no doubt in the world that I still would have been with her. I'd cross over hell twice just to be with her. But I didn't know if she felt that way anymore, and what was worse, I didn't know if she ever did.

These feelings of doubt nagged at my mind, like a constantly buzzing mosquito. I would swat it away, over and over, but it just kept buzzing right back in my ear. It made me push harder to be perfect, to show her how happy we'd be together. And she'd pull away some more. There were nights that I didn't even sleep in bed with her anymore. Instead I'd choose to pass out on the couch with my favorite bottle of amber liquid. The whisky always knew how to kill that damn mosquito. It was the only way it became tolerable to handle life, night or day.

I had no Sammie and I was losing Lauren faster than I could bring her back. But the burn of the whisky always seemed to numb me in the places that needed to be numbed. The dark places inside, that were so hollow.

It was on a Tuesday, when my phone rang out.

"Hello?" I slurred out, as I answered. I should have been ashamed to be answering my phone, well on my way to being drunk, particularly ashamed, because it was only 3:00 in the afternoon. But when I heard the voice on the other end of the line, I didn't feel ashamed, I was only pissed that I hadn't checked the caller ID.

"Hello Eric," her clipped tone answered. Even over the phone she'd send waves of anger up my spine.

I sobered up quickly. "What do you want?" I asked her in a perfect clipped tone as well.

"Well, your father and I were talking. While we are not happy that you had a baby, and are still very disappointed in you, we would like to meet our grandchild."

"What?" I asked. Anger and confusion were rising in me at dangerous speeds. Especially when mixed with my little friend, whisky.

"We would like to meet our grandchild. When would you like to bring it over?" I could already see her in my mind, flipping through her calendar that had dictated my life as a child. She wanted the same life for her granddaughter. A granddaughter she didn't even have.

"We don't have a child, mother," I answered through gritted teeth.

"What do you mean? You told me she was pregnant..."

"She was pregnant," I answered. I couldn't bring myself to say it. I didn't want to hear the words, but they were coming out anyway. "The baby didn't make it," I choked out.

"Oh, Eric. I'm sorry." It was the closest thing to sympathy I'd ever heard from my mother. I'd even heard a small sigh on the other end of the line.

"What the hell are you sorry for? You didn't want any part of it anyway! Your granddaughter has been dead for three months and you never even knew!"

"Well, Eric, your father and I..."

"Save it. I don't even care anymore. You didn't want me to have a child, and now I don't. I hope you're happy, you always seem to get what you want."

"Eric, I certainly hope you don't think we ever wanted something like this to happen."

I sighed, I was running out of patience, of words, of caring. 

"Mother, I don't know what you ever wanted to happen to me or to her. But she's gone, and so am I." I ended the call before I could hear another word. 

I paced up and down the living room, wearing holes in the floorboards, I'm sure. I was fuming, anger seeping out all over me, and I was crying, my heart shattering again with every beat. I needed to get out. I grabbed my bottle and jumped in my car. I was becoming an expert at driving drunk. I could drink an entire flask and still get from my house to school for the classes I was awake to attend. I would usually switch to vodka if I knew I had practice that day because even though it was winter, coach kept on us, drilling us with practices. And vodka was a wonder alcohol, you could drink it like water and no one would be able to smell otherwise. 

But that day, I happened to not give a fuck. Let it come, I didn't care. How much worse could it get? By some miracle I made it safely to where I was headed. I hadn't planned on getting a tattoo. It had just popped into my mind and that's where my car took me. 

I didn't have tattoos or piercings because, frankly, needles weren't my favorite thing on the planet. Not that I would ever tell anybody that. But again, that day, I just didn't give a fuck anymore.

When I walked into the tattoo shop, it was nothing like I expected it to be. It was clean and white, almost sparkling. Pictures hung on the wall, options of what you could permanently brand yourself with. I decided I wasn't in there to get something manly, like a dragon or a skull. I wanted to get something to remind me of her, so that every time I looked at it, I would be able to feel myself holding her again. I wanted that feeling to stay forever. 

"Can I help you?"

If the tattoo shop had been a shock, this guy stunned me into silence. He was tall and skinny, with dark rimmed glasses and a comb over. Not a tattoo of his own in sight. 

"Uh, yea, I guess." I rubbed the back of my head uncomfortably. I hadn't thought about exactly what I should get. I glanced at the wall again and then back to the tattoo guy. "I'm not sure what I'm looking for exactly."

"Well, what did you have in mind?"

My buzz was wearing thin. I took out my flask and took a shot of the whisky. I offered him one, and he turned it down with a shake of his head.  Probably better that way, if he was going to be sticking a needle into me repeatedly.

"I want a name. Sammie," I told him.

He nodded in understanding. "Girlfriend?" he asked.

I shook my head no. I needed another swing from the flask. "She was my daughter," I answered, my voice husky from the booze or the tears that had lodged there I didn't know which.

It was easy to see the moment he realized I said "was." His eyes widened just a bit and his mouth hung a little wider than normal. I realized that was something I would have to deal with for the rest of my life. But he recovered quick and I started to peruse the board myself.

"I can do some angel wings around her name," he offered.

I liked the thought of angel wings. I'd never been a particularly religious guy. I did the traditional Christmas Eve and Easter Mass with my parents because they dragged me. They also made me go to Sunday school, until I was confirmed. But it was all their choice. Me? I wasn't sure what I believed. But it hit me that I suddenly hoped there was a heaven, because I hoped she was somewhere that beautiful. 

I nodded in agreement. He pointed to the chair and I headed over. The only words he spoke after that, was asking how to spell her name. I sat in silence as the needles went in and out of my wrist. I didn't look until he was done, I just sat and felt the pain. It felt relieving to finally have somewhere to pin the pain. Pain inside, just sits, heavy like a rock and there's no way to end the ache. But the tattoo was a pain I could see, I could touch, that I could make better.

"What do you think?" he asked when he was done.

I looked down at it. Two tiny angle wings on either side of her name. I touched it. It was the closest I'd get to feeling her again.

"It's perfect," I told him, my eyes still traveling along the letters in her name.

He nodded and headed up to the cash register. I followed behind, feeling like a fog had been lifted. I paid for my tattoo and headed out of the shop. Darkness was just creeping in and the air felt bitterly cold. A bone deep cold that shakes you from the inside out. I felt suddenly sobered, I didn't feel like I even needed to reach for my flask. For the first time since Sammie, I felt calm. Like I had a part of her to take with me. Like she'd be there for the rest of my life.

TWENTY-TWO

I drove home feeling content, slightly at peace. I pulled up to my house and it was dark, except for one light that shone through the windows, our bedroom light. I wanted to hold Lauren, wanted to kiss her. She had told me that day she had made breakfast that she needed time, she wasn't ready for me. So I had waited patiently for her, waiting for her to come to me. It was December, it was three months since Lauren and I had had sex. Since we'd done anything. And it had been a few weeks since I'd even held her, kissed her.

I needed her at that moment. I wanted to feel her hot skin against mine. Taste her lips, her shoulders, her inside. I wanted to feel her touch me everywhere, and I knew I wouldn't be able to get enough of her once my fingers grazed her skin. I was going to go crazy without her. 

I walked into the house, a smile playing at my lips. It felt different, new. Like maybe this was a new chance. I wanted to have Lauren in every way possible. Every piece of her that wasn't sure about us, I wanted to change. To make her feel like I did. If she wasn't sure if she loved me, I'd make her sure. If she wasn't sure that she needed me, I'd make her sure. My doubts pushed aside, I walked into the bedroom, ready to show her how much I loved her.

She sat on the bed, in a ratty hoodie and shorts, flipping through the channels.

I thought, in that moment, that she'd never looked more beautiful.

I strode over to the bed, took the remote from her hand and turned off the TV. Her eyes widened with surprise as I stripped off my jacket and dropped hard on top of her. My mouth crashed into her. Teeth hitting teeth, my hands roaming all over her body.

I hoped that she would want me too, that she wouldn't turn me away. She didn't. She returned my kisses and bit my lip. I stripped off her hoodie, my hands running along her breasts, pulling gently at her nipples. She moaned into me and arched her back acceptingly. She stripped off my shirt and unbuckled my pants. 

My fingers crept underneath her shorts, she was already wet. That just made me harder, that she wanted me as much as I wanted her. She took me in her hands and started to pump up and down. I groaned in pleasure. She felt so good. She started to go harder and I matched her. Both of us were panting and anxious, needing each other right in that moment. She slid my jeans all the way down and I shimmied off her shorts. 

I slid inside her easily, like I belonged there all along. She sharply inhaled as I exhaled loudly. We matched each other, quick and hard. She bit my lip and I tasted blood. I couldn't get enough of her, couldn't get inside her enough. I tangled my hands through her hair, her nails scratched along my back. I felt her body stiffen and then she released. I waited for her to finish before I let myself go.   

I fell off to the side of her, both of us gasping for air and our senses. I looked over at her and she was smiling in pleasure. I was wrong, that was the most beautiful I'd ever seen her. She started to play with my fingers, then started to trail up my arm. She was giving me goosebumps and I was feeling hard already. 

Her hand stopped when she ran her fingers along the bandage.

"What's this? Did you get hurt?" she asked.

"No, I got a tattoo," I told her.

She sat up pulling the covers with her.

"A tattoo? You hate needles."

"Well, it was just something I needed to do."

She cocked her head to the side, her sex hair wild down her back. 

"Can I see?" she asked.

I ripped off the bandage and showed her. She sharply inhaled again, but this time not in pleasure. Her face paled a little as she traced the letters.

"Why?" she asked, her voice tight with tears.

"I wanted something of her to have with me always." I kept my eyes on her fingers and watched her trace the letters. Tears dropped onto the fresh ink. I looked up and saw her still staring at the name, tears slipping off her cheeks. I wiped them away.  

"Are you ok, baby?" I asked her.

She nodded but didn't say a word. Instead she turned on her side and slid back toward me. I curled around her and pulled her in tight. I felt every inch of her against me, she felt like ecstasy.

"I love you, Lauren," I whispered in her ear.

"I love you too, Eric," I heard her say, before I drifted off to sleep.