by Emma Scott
Thea stopped walking. “We?”
It’s too much. You’re asking too much of her. Of life. No one gets everything they ever wanted…
I pushed the old fear down and kept talking.
“Maybe we get a place together in Richmond,” I said. “I’ll get a job and you can go back to school. And then, down the road, when we’re settled… I can look into programs for speech therapy.”
Thea pounced, wrapping me in a choke-hold that softened as she slipped down into my arms. I held her while the pedestrians parted around us like a river around a stone.
“It sounds so perfect,” she said against my chest. “This is a dream and I’m going to wake up in that little box again—”
“Jesus, don’t say that.”
She huffed a steadying breath. “No, you’re right. I love your plan.”
“Yeah?”
“I do,” she said.
We kissed to seal the pact, but it wasn’t enough. A feeling I didn’t have a word for made my chest expand. I couldn’t describe it except that when I looked in Thea’s eyes, or held her, or kissed her, or listened to her talk, it grew bigger. Sunk in deeper. Embedded itself into the marrow of my bones, and yet I was fucking petrified it would crumble and vanish.
We passed by a tattoo shop and Thea slowed to peer in the window. “I always wanted a tattoo but as an art student, I had too many design options floating in my head. Want to check it out?”
“Sure.”
We went inside the dark, cool confines of the small shop. Art on every wall and R-rated music blasting from the sound system. A guy bent over a woman facedown on his table, inking a design on her calf. Another guy stepped out from the back—thin with tattoos over every inch of skin visible but for his face. The butterfly on the side of his shaved head looked newly inked—darker than the other tattoos.
“Can I help you?” he asked in an almost gentle voice. His eyes were quiet and calm in the middle of the noise and color in his skin.
“I think we’re just looking.” Thea glanced up at me. “Or… are we?”
“Get one if you want one.” I looked to the guy. “She likes to pretend I can stop her from doing anything.”
“Ha ha.” Thea elbowed me. “I think I do want something. To commemorate this trip to New York.”
“Cool,” the tattooist asked. “You want to look at some books? Get some ideas?”
“Absolutely,” Thea said and offered her hand. “I’m Thea.”
“Nicholas.”
“Nice to meet you, Nicholas.” They shook hands and Thea opened a book of flash tattoos on the counter in front of her. “How about you, Jimmy? We could get matching tattoos.” She laughed. “We could get each other’s names, thereby guaranteeing we’ll be broken up by the end of the week.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Yeah right,” Thea murmured above the flash book.
“Let’s do it.”
Her head whipped up. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t recommend getting each other’s names,” Nicholas put in, in his quiet voice.
“Not names but definitely something for this week.”
“Something that’s us,” Thea said. She turned to Nicholas. “Any suggestions?”
“For a couple?” Nicholas crossed his lean, tatted arms. “Anchor and compass. Lock and key. His and her crowns.”
“You sound like you’ve done those a hundred times,” Thea said.
He smiled. “You could say that.”
“Give us a moment, please.” She took me to the corner of the waiting area. “What do you think?”
Her eyes were impossibly blue and so full of light, she was nearly blinding. What did I think?
I think we promised to take care of each other.
I think we agreed to move in together.
I think we jokingly-but-not-really talked about getting married.
I thought about our plan to move to Richmond together and the foreign, still-nameless feeling surged in my heart. I wanted that feeling to be permanent, like ink in the skin.
“A lot has happened in a few days,” I said. “And I don’t mean sightseeing or oysters.”
She nodded, suddenly shy again. “I think so too. A lot has happened… between us.”
“Yeah, it has,” I said. “This week feels like a promise we’re making to each other. For the future. That’s what I want to commemorate.”
She nodded and kissed me softly. “I do too.”
We took turns sitting with Nicholas. In his unique, cursive handwriting, Nicholas inked my promise to Thea down the side of her right forearm, above the seam of her scar, Keep me safe.
Then down my forearm, Nicholas inked Thea’s promise: Keep me wild.
We held our arms together for Nicholas to take photos with Thea’s phone. “Delia’s going to shit her pants,” Thea said. “I can’t wait.”
Nicholas covered the tattoos in plastic and gave us care instructions. After we paid, Thea gave him a hug.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, “but I can’t help it. A hundred tattoo shops in New York but we came to you.”
“I don’t mind,” Nicholas said. “Usually I cringe when couples come in for something matching. But you two…” He shrugged, smiling. “I’m not worried.”
We continued down the street, wordlessly, hand in hand, Thea’s promise to me buzzing on my skin. In front of a small bistro, a waitress was on her knees at a chalkboard, erasing it with frustrated swipes. She sat back on her heels and put the back of her hand to her mouth.
“Hey, you okay?” Thea asked, gently.
“Oh, sorry. I’m fine,” she said. “No, actually, I’m not fine. This is my first day on the job and my boss wants me to make the specials board and I have, like, the worst handwriting ever. I’m going to get fired, because if I can’t even do this…?”
Thea took the written menu from the sidewalk. “This is what needs to be on here?”
“Yeah, but it needs to be ‘pretty’ and ‘eye-catching’ and I can barely make it legible.”
“I can help,” Thea said. “We’re on vacation here and I haven’t painted or drawn something in days. I’m about ready to burst.”
The waitress sniffed and looked up at me, then back to Thea. “No, you’re on vacation. You don’t need to waste your time on this. I’ll… figure it out.”
“We have time.” Thea looked up at me. “Don’t we, Jimmy?”
“You’re asking me?” I said with a laugh. “Do your thing, baby.”
Thea cocked a brow but her cheeks went pink. “Baby, eh?” She leaned into the waitress. “We’re having a big week,” she said in confidential tones. Then she clapped her hands together. “Okay, gimme that chalk, and I’ll whip something up for you.”
The waitress—her name was Paula—and I watched as Thea used the colored chalks to write up the restaurant specials in that same precise handwriting she’d used to make her word chains. She framed it with pink and blue flowers bursting from the corners and green vines that curled and trailed down the sides.
“Holy shit, that’s beautiful,” Paula said. “You’ve even added shading. And depth. With chalk. Amazing. But… hell, they’re going to want me to do this every week.”
“Tell them it was a one-time deal. But you can erase the specials as they change and leave the flowers.”
“Thank you,” Paula said, hugging her. “Thank you so much. You saved my ass.”
“Thank you,” she said to Paula. “That should hold me for the rest of the trip.”
Thea wiped her chalky hands on her shorts, promptly covering them in pink and green, and we continued down the street.
After a minute, Thea glanced up at me. “Baby?”
“If you don’t like it, I won’t use it,” I said. “It just slipped out.”
“I like it,” Thea said. “I went warm all over when you said it. It makes me feel taken care of. Like I’m still myself, but I’m yours too.”
“You are yourself,” I said
, pulling her to me. “You are always one hundred percent yourself. I could see it from the moment I met you in front of that painting. It’s what I…” I stopped, that nameless feeling starting to become not-so-nameless. “It’s what attracted me to you most.”
“You and your perfect words.” Thea sighed.
Her eyes fell shut as she leaned in to kiss me, soft and sweet, then reached for her backpack.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m calling Jonathan.”
“Reporting back already?” I asked and slung my arm around her neck as we kept walking. “How’d I do?”
Thea grinned. “A-plus, baby.”
Chapter 32
Jim
We found a little dive bar near the tattoo shop and took a small booth in the back. Loud rock music filled the small, dark space, blaring from speakers tucked in the corners.
“I just sent Delia the pic Nicholas took of our ink,” Thea said. “I’m trying not to be in-your-face about it, but she’s always hated tattoos.”
“Too late now,” I said, trying not to be smug myself. I nodded toward the bar. “Drink?”
“White Russian, please,” Thea said with a grin. “It’s been a while.”
I went to the bar, ordered the cocktail for Thea and a beer for myself. When I returned, Thea had her phone pressed to her ear, a finger plugging her other, and a look on her face I didn’t like.
Damn you, Delia, I thought, sliding back into the booth. Leave her alone. Let her be happy.
“What?” Thea shouted. “I can’t… I can hardly hear you.” She listened for a few seconds more, her brows furrowed. Then her eyes widened and her lips parted. “You’re lying. You’re…” She glanced at me furtively.
“What?” I asked, every nerve-ending in my body lit up. “What’s she saying?”
Thea huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes. “I can’t hear anything. Hold on.” She covered her phone with her hand and said to me, “It’s too loud in here. I’m going outside to let Delia bitch at me for a minute about the tattoos. I’ll be right back.”
“Thea…”
But she scooted out of the booth and out of the bar, her back straight and stiff.
I tugged at the label on my beer bottle watching the door. I couldn’t see Thea, so I started a mental timer. Fifteen minutes. That was our agreement.
Thea returned just as I was ready to go find her. She speed-walked through the bar and slid into the booth breathlessly. Her eyes were bright and glassy.
“My sister, I swear…” She took a long pull from her White Russian, nearly draining it.
“What did she want?”
“Nothing,” she said. “She’s pissed about the tattoos. I knew she’d freak out.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I’m not about to be arrested, am I?”
She let out a short, loud laugh. “No, no, nothing like that. Just Delia being her Delia-self.” She finished her drink and clanked the glass down. “Oh my God, I think I’ve got that post-tattoo endorphin rush they tell you about. Are you done with your beer? Let’s blow this joint. We got more New York-ing to do.”
She was already sliding back out of the booth but I caught her hand.
“Hey. Are you okay? What did Delia say to you?”
“It’s nothing, I swear. Just… stuff about our parents. She’s trying to make me feel guilty.”
My phone rang from the inner pocket of my leather jacket. I fished it out. “It’s her.”
“Don’t answer it.” Thea’s eyes were hard and intense; a look I’d never seen her wear before. “She wants to ruin this. Don’t let her. Please.”
The phone’s ringing seemed loud even under the thrashing music.
Thea’s gaze never wavered from mine. “I want this time with you, Jimmy. I’m not ready to give it up.”
Neither am I.
I shut off the phone and put it back in my pocket. “Just until tomorrow morning,” I said. “Then we touch base enough to let her know you’re okay. Like usual.”
Thea’s tight, tense expression broke up into a radiant smile. “Absolutely. I thought of where I want to go next,” she said, practically vibrating in her seat. “To a club. Dancing. I need a fix of my techno-slash-EDM music.”
I watched her for a moment, studying her.
Something is wrong. She looked almost terrified…
The thought floated in and out. I caught sight of her new tattoo.
Keep me safe.
It was my vow and it included keeping her happiness safe. Protecting her from Delia’s attempts to tear it down.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s hit it.”
We took an Uber to a Korean barbecue restaurant on West 50th Street, near the piers on the Hudson. We ate a quick dinner, then crossed the street toward a massive, five-story dance club called FREQ.
“Night clubs aren’t really your thing, are they?” Thea asked.
“Not so much,” I said. “But I’ll survive.”
“You’re so good to me,” she said, sudden tears in her eyes. All during dinner she’d been on the edge of her seat, jumping at every noise. One second seeming on the verge of tears, then bursting out laughing.
“What’s wrong,” I asked.
She wiped her eyes. “Nothing, I’m just so… happy with you. And this trip has been so amazing. I hate that it’s ending. I need to celebrate everything tonight. I need to dance. And drink. And then dance some more.”
“Wait,” I said, taking her hand. “Can you mix alcohol with Hazarin? I didn’t think to ask in the bar, but are there side effects?”
“Oh, definitely not. Says so right on the label.”
An itchy feeling came over me at her wild energy, along with the sudden urge to get her back to the hotel and…
And what? Watch TV? She wants to be out in the world, having a good time. Keeping it wild.
It was inked right into my skin—her promise to me. To stop holding back and second-guessing everything.
“You sure?” I said. “Swear to me there’s no warning about alcohol on that label.”
Thea turned to meet my gaze head on. “I swear there is no alcohol warning on that label. Why the hell would I jeopardize my memory?” A sudden smile twitched the corners of her mouth. “Don’t worry, when we stumble back into the hotel tonight, I’ll show you.”
“It’ll be too late by then,” I said.
“Then you’ll just have to trust me, Jimmy.”
She was smiling but her eyes held the challenge. Do you trust me to know what I want when no one has in years?
“I trust you,” I said.
Her shoulders relaxed and her gaze softened. “Thank you,” she said, easing a breath. “Now let’s have some serious fun.”
We joined the line snaking around the corner of the club. Since it was relatively early, it moved fast. Once inside, Thea went straight to the bar and grabbed us two stools on the corner.
“We need shots,” she declared. “Tequila.”
“You haven’t been drunk in more than two years,” I reminded her. “Your tolerance is going to be shit.”
“Which is why I’ll only need one shot,” she said with a grin. “Or two. Or three.”
“Two, max,” I said.
Her eyes flashed. “Are you telling me what to do now, too?”
“Babe, you weigh about a hundred pounds. I don’t want you to get alcohol poisoning.”
She smirked. “I weigh a lot more than a hundred pounds.” She silenced my protest with a kiss. “Thank you for keeping me safe, but I can take care of myself too. I’ll drink lots of water.” Thea called to the bartender, “Tequila shots, sir.”
“That’s how you do it, honey,” said a woman from the mixed group of young people next to us.
“Right?” Thea said. “If you’re going to party, then par-tay.”
Soon enough, Thea was the party. She had the bartender line up shots not only for us but our neighbors at the bar. I hesitated befo
re taking mine.
“I’m keeping you wild, Jimmy,” Thea said. “Don’t give up on me.”
I cocked my head at her choice of words, but in the end, she wanted this night, and I wanted to give it to her. We knocked back the shots in unison. The tequila went down smooth and I was suddenly hot all over. The dance music thumped so loudly, I could feel it in my pulse.
Another shot followed the first, and I tried to keep track, to make sure Thea wasn’t overdoing it. Hell, I needed not to overdo it. But she slammed back a glass of water and then tugged on my hand.
“Come dance.”
I shook my head. “I don’t dance. It’s just not in my DNA.”
She pouted, then bounded off with her new friends. She danced with abandon, laughing, her eyes lit up and a thin sheen of sweat glistened over her skin.
More drinks followed, and the alcohol did what alcohol does—make bad shit feel a million miles away and consequences even further. I lost track of how many drinks were pressed on me while trying to keep track of Thea’s. But as promised, she had a water glass in her hand more often than a cocktail and I relaxed. The enormous space was a pulsing box of light and sound. People talking, bodies dancing, flashing lights, and the pounding beat of one song after another.
The night began to break into pieces and time became a nebulous thing, stretching out and contracting. I felt as if I were underwater. Thea swam up like a mermaid with her long hair loose and flowing.
“Hey, baby.” She put her arms around my neck and kissed me wetly, tasting of some sweet cocktail I couldn’t remember her ordering.
Maybe it’s the same as the one in your hand.
I looked down. A mai tai? The fuck. I didn’t drink mai tais.
“I have to piss,” I slurred. “Watch our stuff?”
“Anything for you,” she said and plopped heavily onto one of the stools.
I slipped out of my jacket—why the fuck was I still wearing it? It was hot as hell in here. I stumbled through a morass of people to the bathroom and took a piss—mostly hitting the target. I washed my hands and peered blearily at the reflection in the mirror. There were two of me and I had to squint one eye to focus.
Time to call it.
I somehow found my way back through the crowd to Thea. “I’m drunk,” I stated.
