Was it that obvious that they weren’t a couple? Because that was a little hurtful. He was hot, yes. Hotter than her, she would grant. But ouch.
Justine prepared her for the tattoo, placing the guide on her arm and leaving behind an impression of what she would leave there permanently in a few moments.
Samantha wasn’t especially afraid of pain, but she didn’t go seeking it out either, and she always got just a little bit of tightness in her stomach right before getting a shot. This felt like that, but magnified. Justine turned the gun on, and it made a buzzing sound, and then she brought it to her skin, and Sam’s breath hissed through her teeth. It hurt. It wasn’t horrific, but it wasn’t pleasant either.
But she watched, rather than looking away, watched with intense interest as the design was etched into her skin.
Those fine, delicate lines becoming part of her.
Like the loss was part of her. Like the need for comfort was part of her.
She wanted it there, because she wanted to remember. She wanted it there because she wanted to feel, deeply, what her mother had meant to her, and also not be afraid to be her own person.
It was like taking that relationship and making it something new. Progressing it even though her mom wasn’t there.
Because Samantha was her own person. Not just the person her mom wanted her to be. It didn’t mean she loved her mom less. It just meant she needed to be free. To be herself. To make her own decisions. She knew her dad would raise his eyebrows when he saw the tattoo. She was going to have to be okay with it.
Shewasokay with it.
It was a weird thing, this moment. Reclaiming. Or claiming, maybe for the first time, herself in a very interesting way. For her, it hadn’t been the bikini. For her, it was this.
Deciding to change something about her own body that she wouldn’t have done before. Because she had given some kind of broader ownership of it to other people. She wasn’t doing that anymore.
Justine finished the tattoo, and gave her instructions for aftercare. She paid, a kind of euphoric haze settling over her.
They walked outside, and she got into the passenger seat of the Ferrari. As soon as the door closed, she burst into tears.
TWENTY
“I have no idea what’s happening to me,” she said, wiping tears away from her cheeks.
“It’s normal,” he said. “That kind of thing is a release.”
“I don’t know. I don’t think anything about me is normal right now. I really do feel like a teenager. Without the tight ass.”
“Your ass is fine.”
He said it so dry and matter-of-fact, she…laughed. Even though she was crying. “My ass is fine?”
“I mean, as far as I can tell,” he said.
“As far as you can tell? Meaning you looked.”
“Sure. Are you going to tell me you haven’t looked at mine?”
Sure. She’d looked. Though she spent more time on his forearms. But she didn’t feel the need to disclose that. She said nothing. She looked down at the tattoo. Shiny and new.
She took a deep breath, and it stuck in her throat.
“I can’t believe I did that.”
“You don’t regret it, do you?”
“No. I don’t. I didn’t ask anyone’s opinion.” She wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye. “Or permission. That must seem like such a small, sad thing.”
“It doesn’t. Not at all.”
She appreciated that. More than she could say.
