And now, as he sat with his legs around me on the large tattoo chair that resembled a dentists’ chair, the crazy man was still insistent that I take the lead on this crazy person mission.
Holding the much more officially set up tattoo machine away from us, I said, “Can you just do it, please?”
“No,” he said easily. “You can do it, it’s only the lines. Remember the skin? You did great on that.”
I shivered. Yeah, I remembered the skin. Practice Skin is what the artists called the jelly-like slabs of silicone they used to train their tattooing craft on before moving to human volunteers. Harper had come in holding it like he caught it out in the wild. I recoiledand screamed and he laughed his little butt off before explaining that it was not actual skin, it was just for practice.
“That wasn’t permanent, Harper. That wasn’tyou. I don’t want to mess up something that’s going to be on you forever. It’s bad enough that you’re tattooing my drawing on you after only thinking about it for a day!” I said, the room getting hotter as my nerves racked up. “I don’t want to be responsible for marking you so permanently.”
“Too late for that,” he murmured. “You’re already pretty permanent on me, Boss. Might as well make it known.”
“Harper.”
“Alta.”
“I might mess it up.”
A gentle hand cradled the back of my head, running down the length of my neck and giving it an encouraging squeeze. Warm breath dusted over my cheek as he leaned forward holding the tattoo machine steady in both our hands. We were tattooing his right leg directly above his knee. There was nothing else on that leg, which just made me all the more nervous that my shabby excuse for a drawing would be the only thing he displayed there.
Again he repeated. “You can do this. I cleaned everything, I prepped everything safely, and I’m holding the machine with you. There’s no way you can really hurt me and no way you can mess this up.”
Meaning, art, memory. That’s what he said his tattoos were for. But what could this one possibly be to him?
“Why are you even trusting me with this?” I asked. “Why are you putting my drawing on you forever?”
“Well, it’s your interpretation of me, right?” he asked. I hummed and something in his chest rumbled as he did the same. “It’s a gift then. To be able to personify the way you see me. It’s special to me, being able to see myself through your eyes. I want to remember it.”
Meaning, art, memory.
Was he saying it was a little bit of all three? The thought sent a jolt of contentment through me, the rightness I always came back to with Harper settling like a blanket over my worries. “It’ll be a gift?”
“The best gift,” he clarified.
I swallowed. “Okay… Alright. I can do that. I can give you a gift.”
“There’s my girl, now come on. Grab it like I taught you.” He started.
And just like always, his belief in me bolstered me up.
We worked on the lines of his tattoo together. Me sitting between his legs as he propped the one we were working on up. His hand firmly wrapped over mine as we both held the machine together. He guided more on some parts and let me lead myself on others. All while murmuring instructions as our heads bent low together. We were both gloved, but it felt like our hands were joined by electricity as we worked. And I don’t know why this felt so intimate but my heart pounded continuously the entire time.
Warmth filled his low voice as he said, “Almost done. Last few lines, you’re doing great.”
I looked at him with an open heart. Opening wide enough that I’m pretty sure he just fell right in. Right then and there.
“Ah,” he hissed mildly, whispering. “Focus, baby.”
And now we were whispering. I whispered too. “Lo siento, amor.”
He stopped.
I mean, I stopped too. But the fact he stopped meant something scary. Holding my breath I calmly waited for him to respond.
“Amor?” he asked in the same way he asked about other Spanish words. I wouldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell him that I had just called him “love” so casually. But the ground might as well have just opened up and swallowed me then, because the next thing he murmured was, “I think I know that one.”
Nope, I couldn’t breathe.
Fast, fast,toofast I felt this all crumbling down. I was scared to death that I was going to freak him out and push him away and I wasn’t ready for this to end. Not when he was saying things like I was something permanent or encouraging me to do anything I wanted to do.
