“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.”