Vandal

“You’re not doing so great with that rule.”

“I know.”

I lean back in the chair and wait for her. “So, what’s it gonna be, darlin’?”

Nodding slowly, her smile comes back. “Yes. I think I’m gonna go for it. But only if you go slow. Will you stop when I ask you to?”

“Of course. I’ll give you a lot of breaks, but once we start the design, we have to finish it. Even if we work on it every day for two weeks. I’m not going to let you walk around with a half a design on you.”

“Ew. Deal.”

“Have you decided what you want?”

“I want you to do what you picked. That will mean the most to me.”

Nodding, I try not to let her see how happy that makes me. “Do you think you can straddle the chair backwards so I can get to your back? You can get up and stretch whenever you need to.”

“Sure.”

I get the rest of my gear ready while she turns the chair and moves it closer to me. “Should I take my shirt off?” she asks.

“Yeah, and your bra too, if you’re okay with that.”

She peers back at me. “Isn’t that unprofessional?”

“Immensely.”

It’s hard to concentrate once she’s sitting there topless, even with her back to me. I try to compose myself.

“I tattoo freehand,” I tell her, gathering her hair and laying it over her shoulder. “Keep your hair in front.”

“I have no idea what freehand means.”

I open a sterile rubbing alcohol pack and wipe her back with it. “It means I don’t draw a sketch first and then trace it onto your back to fill in. I just tat straight on.”

“Oh. How big is this going to be?”

I sit back and stare at her blank skin, trying to envision it in my mind. She’s so tiny. I picture it taking up almost her entire back, if she has the patience for it.

“I was thinking two huge angel wings, taking up pretty much your whole back. It would look incredible, but it would take some time to do, depending on how much you can handle at once. Or if you just want small wings, I can do that too. It’s your body, so you tell me.”

She grabs her cell phone and starts fiddling with it, then turns and thrusts it at me. It’s a web image of a tattoo similar to what I described. The art isn’t as good as mine, but it’s not bad. “Like this?” she asks.

“Yeah but my detail and shading will be much more realistic than that. But yeah, that size.”

“Yes! That’s what I want. I will love that.”

“Let’s get started then. Try to keep still, and let me know if you need me to stop.”

I snap my black gloves on and get to work. She yowls two seconds after I start. I pull back.

“Ouch! That does hurt. Shit!”

I stifle a laugh. I’ve seen girls react this way at least a hundred times. “You kinda get numb to it after a while. Do you want me to stop? There’s just a tiny black line.”

“No!” she wails. “I’m doing this. I will not wuss out.”

“Good girl.”

“Just talk a lot to distract me.”

We talk casually as I work on her. She tells me some funny stories about when she was a little girl, and I tell her a few of my tamer childhood stories. I want to tell her about the band, and more about my music but I’m afraid that could lead to too many possible connections for her to connect the dots and figure out who I am. Shit. For the first time in my life, all my lies are making me sick.

“You’re doing great, babe,” I say after about an hour and only two short breaks. “Are you feeling okay? I’ve had a few chicks pass out on me before. Two guys, too.”

“Are you kidding? Sucks for the guys. How embarrassing is that?”

“Very.”

“I feel okay. A little sore.”

I stop and take a few moments to really look at the design. It’s coming out totally sick. “You’re going to be sore for a few days. You might not want to sleep on your back.”

“Okay … what about other stuff?”

“What other stuff?”

“You know … with you.”

Leaning forward, I kiss her shoulder, being careful not to touch her back or let my hair brush over her raw skin. “You mean sex?”

“Yes, that, and the other stuff.”

I stand up and walk around her chair to kneel in front of her. “I’ll go easy on you. There’s lots of positions I can put you in.”

She nods but doesn’t say anything else, just chews on her lower lip.

“What’s wrong?” I ask her.

“Is that all there is … for us? Just sex?”

Fuck. I’m not ready for this.

I stand and head for the refrigerator. “You want a cold drink?” I pull out a soda and she’s right behind me when I turn around.

“Hey, get back over there where it’s clean. I don’t want you walking around getting cat fur or what-the-fuck-ever on you.” Grabbing her elbow, I lead her back to the dining room.

“You’re avoiding the question,” she accuses me.

“Tabi …”

“Vandal. It’s okay if that’s all this is. Just be honest.”

I relent and fall into my chair. Be honest. Do I even know how to do that?

“No. That’s not all this is,” I finally say, but I have no idea what else to add because I honestly just don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I do know that this is more than just sex, and that scares the shit out of me.

She stares at me with her big eyes. “Really?”

“Really.”

She accepts that. For now.

We decide to do the left-side wing today and the right side tomorrow. I take a picture of it with her cell phone and she jumps up and down with excitement and gingerly places her arms around me when she sees it. I cover it with plastic and help her put her T-shirt back on.

“I have an idea.” I throw at her as I clean up my gear.

“Do tell.”

“Why don’t we watch a movie tonight? Like you wanted to the other night?”

Her excitement grows even more. “I would love that! Can we make popcorn? Do you have any?”

I feign annoyance. “Fuck, popcorn too? Is there anything you don’t want?”

Later that night I’m doing something I never thought I’d be doing. Sitting on the couch with a chick lying against me, eating popcorn and chocolate, watching a stupid comedy. I don’t know how I got here or what the fuck this is anymore. Something is happening.

By the end of the movie she’s asleep, so I pick her up effortlessly and carry her to the bedroom. The past few days and then the tattoo must have exhausted her because she doesn’t even wake up when I remove her sweatpants and pull the comforter over her. Maybe this is what love feels like. Just taking care of someone and trying to make them happy.

I crawl into the bed next to her and pull her against me, being careful not to hurt her back. Sterling jumps up and curls at the foot of the bed. I wish Katie were here. If she was, she would love Tabitha, and she would be head over heels for Sterling.

But neither of them would even be here if Katie were alive.

***

Screaming cries wake me from a dead sleep and I bolt upright, thinking Katie is having a nightmare. My feet just about hit the floor when I realize it’s not Katie; it’s Tabitha. She’s thrashing in bed next to me, whimpering and crying.

I gently shake her. “Tabi …”

She smacks at me and kicks me, still screaming. I grab her hands to avoid another hit to the face. “Tabi, wake up”.

Waking with wild eyes, she stares at me as if she doesn’t recognize me and yanks herself away from my grasp.

“Hey … it’s okay. You had a bad dream.”

Her eyes slowly focus on me and she settles down a little. “I had a dream about the accident again,” she says, her entire body trembling with the aftermath of the dream. “I can see the lights coming at us and I scream but I can’t make them stop. They just keep coming! Why was he on our side of the road? Why didn’t he swerve away?” Shit, she remembers. I don’t remember any of it.

“Come here,” I say softly, and after a few moments she moves into my embrace, but doesn’t put her arms around me. I wrap my arms tightly around her small body and lean my cheek against the top of her head, wishing my touch could suck all the fear and pain from her.

“I hate it, Vandal. It’s awful. All I can see is the lights and then I’m lying in the road … and everything hurts so much, and there’s blood on me and I don’t know where Nick is … and there’s a baby crying, and I can’t make it stop.” She sobs against my chest, oblivious to the fact that her words just turned my veins to ice.

A baby crying …

How could I be so stupid to think that just because I remember nothing from the accident that she wouldn’t either? A baby crying means that Katie didn’t die right away, as I convinced myself she did. As everyone led me to believe. She was alive and she was alone in that twisted fucking mess. Crying. Where the fuck was I?

I swallow hard. “There was a baby in the accident? Where was the baby?” I try to keep my voice even.

“I don’t know…still in the other car I think. Or maybe in the road. I couldn’t see her. It was just awful. I don’t want to think about it.”

No. Not in the road. Please don’t let that be true.

“Shit …” I hold on to Tabi as my own tears choke out. Knowing that Katie was alive and hurt, scared and alone before she died, is ripping my heart to shreds.

“I miss him so much …” Tabitha utters against my chest.

Vile jealousy coils inside me, snaking around my grief. Fisting her hair, I yank her head up, finding her lips in the dark, my tongue seeking out hers. Her hands cling to my shoulders, her nails digging into my flesh. Pushing her down hard, I fall on top of her, kissing her savagely, using my leg to push hers apart.