Chapter 28
Loop over, pull through. Loop over, pull through. Loop over... and tangle.
"Ugh!"
I dropped the crochet hook onto the pink duvet. It bounced once, landing softly next to a deformed lump of purple yarn that was supposed to be a lavender flower but looked more like a grape that had been stepped on by a heavy boot.
I sighed. A long, dramatic, wind-tunnel sigh.
"Why is crocheting so hard?!" I whispered to Primrose, who was currently snoring at the foot of my bed, completely unbothered by my artistic crisis. "It looks so easy on TikTok! The girl just goes swish swish and poof! A cardigan! And look at me! I have made... a purple potato."
I flopped back onto my pillows, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling.
It was raining outside. Like, really raining. The sky was angry. The wind was howling around the corners of my yellow house like a wolf trying to blow the three little pigs down. Huhu. It was scary.
Usually, when it storms like this, I run to Mommy and Daddy's room and squeeze in between them like a sandwich filling. But... I am nineteen now! I am an adult! I have a driver's license (that I rarely use)! I have a husband!
A husband who is currently... somewhere. Probably erasing her name.
Natalia.
The name floated across my vision in fancy, elegant cursive script.
My chest gave a painful little squeeze. It felt like I had swallowed an ice cube whole.
Who is she? Why is her name on his back? Why is it right there? Above his pajama line? That is a very intimate spot! That is prime real estate!
I bet she was tall. I bet she was elegant. I bet she crocheted perfect lavender flowers without even looking. I bet she drank black coffee and discussed the stock market while looking effortlessly chic in a blazer.
And here I am. Aleesha. Short. Loud. Wearing oversized pajamas with bunnies on them. I can't even make a yarn flower.
"Maybe he wants a divorce," I whispered to the ceiling.
The thought made my stomach do a backflip. Divorce? No! We just got married! We haven't even had the wedding reception yet! We haven't even had the... you know... consummation!
"Maybe just a cool-off?" I bargained with myself. "Like in the movies? Where they take a break and realize they can't live without each other?"
But what if he realizes he can live without me? What if he realizes life is quieter and cleaner and less pink without me?
WAAAAHHH!
I rolled over, burying my face in my Hello Kitty plushie.
"I don't want a divorce!" I muffled into the fur. "I love his grumpy face! I love his symmetrical nostrils! I love how he smells like expensive rain!"
I sat up abruptly. My hair was probably a mess, a halo of static electricity.
"I should tattoo my face on him," I declared to the empty room. "Yes! Right on his chest! A giant portrait of me! Smiling! So everyone knows! So Natalia knows! Property of Aleesha! Do Not Touch!"
I glanced at the Hello Kitty clock on the wall.
He's been gone for hours. Is the laser removal taking a long time? Does it hurt? Huhu, poor Gabby. I hope he's okay. I hope he's not in pain. Even if he deserves it a little bit for forgetting about the tattoo!
My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Bzzzt.
The keychains jingled—a sound of pure joy usually, but today it sounded muted by the rain.
I picked it up.
The screen lit up. My wallpaper was a candid photo I took of Gabriel in the library last week. He was reading a book about ancient wars, looking all serious and brooding. He looked so handsome it should be illegal.
I sighed again.
"I miss you, Mr. Grump," I whispered to the screen.
I unlocked the phone.
I tapped the icon.
Eli!
The citrus boy! The ice cream guy! The one Gabriel seemed weirdly annoyed about!
I blinked. How did he find me? Oh right, I probably popped up on "People You May Know" because we have mutual friends from the university or something. Or maybe because we were in the same location? Technology is magic!
I accepted it immediately. Click.
Friends! Yay! I need friends. I need distractions from the Natalia-Spirals in my brain.
Ding!
A message bubble popped up instantly.
I stared at the screen.
Isha?
I blinked. My name is Aleesha. People call me Leesha. Or Ali. Or "Hey You". Or "The Asset" (if you are Gabriel). But... Isha?
It sounded... soft. It sounded cute! Like a nickname for a fairy!
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of my lips.
It was nice. Just a normal, breezy conversation. No talk of heirs. No talk of tattoos on lower backs. Just... normal friend stuff.
Creak.
My bedroom door opened.
I froze.
I looked up from my phone.
Standing in the doorway, framed by the dim hallway light, was Gabriel.
He was wet. Not soaked, because he had the raincoat, but his hair was damp, sticking to his forehead in dark strands. His shoulders were broad, filling up the frame.
He was holding a small, sleek black suitcase in his hand. It looked like the kind of case hitmen in movies carry their sniper rifles in. Or maybe a very fancy lunchbox.
"Gabby!" I gasped.
I put my phone down on the bed, screen down.
Gabriel walked into the room. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel. Click.
He walked toward the bed. His steps were silent on the rug. His eyes were locked on me. They were dark, intense, and... simmering? Was that the word? He looked like a pot of water just about to boil.
"You're back!" I said, trying to sound cheerful but feeling my heart hammer against my ribs. "Did... did you do it?"
He didn't answer.
He reached the side of the bed. He placed the black suitcase on the mattress.
Then, without a word, he climbed onto the bed.
He crawled over the pink duvet, moving like a large, predatory cat. He sat down next to me, leaning back against the headboard, stretching his long legs out.
He exhaled a long breath. He smelled like ozone and antiseptic.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing a shaking finger at the case. "Is it... is it a bomb? Did you bring a bomb to my parents' house, Gabriel?!"
"It is not a bomb," he rasped. His voice sounded a little rough.
He reached out and unlatched the case. Snap. Snap.
He flipped the lid open.
I leaned forward, my curiosity overriding my nervousness. "Ooh! What is it? A science kit?"
Inside, nestled in black foam, were silver tools, bottles, and wires.
"Wireless Rotary Tattoo Pen," Gabriel said, pointing to a thick, sleek silver pen-looking thing.
"Needle Cartridges," he pointed to the little blister packs. "Liners and Shaders."
"Black Tattoo Ink." A small bottle of darkness.
"Ink Caps. Stencil Transfer Gel. Stencil Paper. Green Soap Squeeze Bottle. Vaseline. Black Nitrile Gloves. Paper Towels. Rubbing Alcohol. Disposable Razor. Cling Wrap. Sharpie Marker."
He listed them off like he was reading a grocery list.
My mouth hung open. I looked at the kit, then at him.
"You..." I blinked. "You bought a tattoo shop? Why? Are we changing careers? Are you going to be a tattoo artist? 'Gabriel's Ink and Angst'?"
Gabriel looked at me. He turned his head slowly, his eyes boring into mine.
"No," he said softly.
He reached into the kit and pulled out the machine. He held it in his hand, testing the weight.
"I want you to sign me," he said.
Silence.
The rain battered the window. Thrum-thrum-thrum.
I blinked again. "Sign you? Like... an autograph? On a paper?"
"No," Gabriel said. "On me."
He pointed the machine at his chest.
"I want you to put your name on me. Permanently."
My heart stopped. Then it restarted, beating double time. Thump-thump-thump-thump!
"M-me?!" I squeaked. "But... but Gabby! I don't know how to tattoo! I can't even draw a straight line! I can't even make a yarn flower! I will mess it up! I will draw a potato on your chest!"
"I do not care," he said.
He set the machine down. He reached for the hem of his black t-shirt.
"Wait!" I panicked. "What are you doing?!"
"Preparing the canvas," he stated.
He pulled the shirt over his head.
Whoosh.
I gulped.
His chest.
Oh. My. Gosh.
It was pale—paler than his arms—and broad. So broad. Like a wall of marble. And he had no hair on his chest! It was smooth! And his abs...
I stared. I couldn't help it!
They were defined. Hard. Rippling. Like bread rolls baked by the gods! I wanted to reach out and trace the lines. I wanted to run my finger down the valley between his muscles. I wanted to poke them to see if they were made of steel or skin.
"Eyes up here," Gabriel rumbled.
I snapped my head up. My face felt like it was on fire.
"S-sorry!" I stammered. "You... you are just very... fit. Very sturdy."
Gabriel smirked. A tiny, barely-there tilt of his lips.
He grabbed the alcohol spray and a paper towel. He wiped the upper left side of his chest, right over his heart.
"Here," he said, tapping the skin. "Right here."
"But Gabby..." I whined, wringing my hands. "It will hurt! And it will be ugly! I have terrible handwriting when I'm nervous! And I am VERY nervous!"
"Aleesha," he said. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. His hand was warm. "I erased the past today. The back is clean. It is raw and red, but the name is gone."
My eyes widened. "You... you really did it?"
"I did."
He pulled me closer.
"Now," he whispered. "I want the present. I want the future. I want your mark. I want you to claim the territory you seem so worried about."
My breath hitched.
Claim the territory.
He wanted me to brand him. Like... like he was mine.
"Okay," I whispered. My voice was barely a squeak. "Okay. I'll do it."
Gabriel nodded. He handed me the black gloves.
"Put these on."
I snapped the gloves on. Snap. I felt like a surgeon. Dr. Aleesha, M.D. of Chaos.
Gabriel set up the machine. He put the needle in. Click. He poured the ink into the tiny cap.
"Straddle me," he commanded.
"Ehh?!" I blushed furiously. "Like... sit on you?!"
"It is the best angle for stability," he explained calmly. "Unless you want to tattoo my chin by accident."
"O-okay..."
I crawled over him. I straddled his lap, my knees on either side of his hips. I was sitting on his legs, looking down at his chest.
This was... intimate.
I could feel the heat radiating off him. I could see the pulse beating in his neck. I could smell the green soap.
Gabriel leaned back, relaxing against the pillows. He looked completely unbothered. He looked like he was about to watch a movie, not get stabbed by needles by his clumsy wife.
"Take the machine," he said.
I picked it up. It was heavier than a pen.
He pressed the button.
BZZZZZZZZT.
The machine hummed to life. The needle moved so fast it was a blur.
I yelped. "It makes a scary noise!"
"It is a standard frequency," Gabriel said. "Dip it in the ink."
I dipped the tip. It sucked up the black liquid.
"Now," Gabriel said, looking me in the eyes. "Write."
"What... what should I write?" I asked, trembling.
"Your signature," he said. "Whatever you want. Just make it yours."
I took a deep breath.
You can do this, Aleesha. Don't hurt him. Don't cry. Be an artist.
I lowered the machine to his skin.
My hand was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. Brrrrt.
The needle touched his skin.
Gabriel didn't even flinch. Not a muscle twitched.
I started to write.
I wanted to write "Mrs. Muratori". But that was too long.
I wanted to write "G" for Gabriel. Like, G's Girl.
I started the curve. A big, swooping curve.
Bzzzzzt.
But my hand slipped on the Green Soap!
The curve went too far down. Then hooked up.
It looked like a J.
Oh no!
I panicked. I couldn't erase it! It's permanent!
Okay, pivot! Pivot!
I decided to write my nickname. Ali.
I wrote a cursive A next to the J-looking-blob. Then an l. Then an i.
J... Ali?
It looked like J-Ali. Or maybe Jali.
Huhu! It was ruined!
I bit my lip. I need to save this!
I added a heart above the i instead of a dot.
Bzzzt. A lopsided, wobbly heart.
And then... because I am Aleesha... and because I wanted him to be happy...
I drew a smiley face at the end.
Two dots. One curve.
:)
I pulled the machine away.
Silence.
I looked at my masterpiece.
It was... something.
It was black. It was red and irritated around the edges.
It read: J Ali :)
The 'J' was huge and crooked. The 'Ali' was shaky. The heart looked like a kidney bean. The smiley face looked deranged.
I stared at it.
"Oh my gosh," I whispered. "I ruined you. I ruined your beautiful chest. You look like a bathroom stall wall."
Tears welled up in my eyes. "I'm so sorry, Gabby! I tried to do a G but it became a J and then I panicked and... and..."
Gabriel didn't speak.
He slowly lifted his head. He looked down at his chest. He inspected the jagged lines. The wobbly heart. The psychotic smiley face. He stayed silent for a long, agonizing minute.
Then, he looked up at me.
His face was inches from mine. I expected him to be mad. I expected him to ask for the laser guy's number again.
But...
He wasn't angry. His eyes were soft. Softer than I had ever seen them. He reached up with one hand—his large, warm hand—and cupped my cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear that had escaped my eye.
"It is..." he started.
"Hideous!" I wailed.
"Perfect," he finished.
I sniffled. "Huh?"
"It is yours," he said deeply. "It is chaotic. It is messy. It has a... smiley face."
He looked at the smiley face again and the corner of his mouth twitched.
"It is exactly like you," he murmured.
He ran his thumb over the fresh ink (which probably stung, but he didn't care).
"J-Ali," he read. "Jolly?"
"No! It was a mistake!" I cried.
"Jolly," he decided. "Because you are happy."
He looked back into my eyes. The intensity in his gaze pinned me to the spot.
"No one else has this," he said possessively. "No past. Just this. Just you."
My heart swelled so big I thought it might explode.
"You really like it?" I whispered.
"I will keep it forever," he promised.
I smiled. A watery, wobbly smile.
I was still straddling him. The rain was still pounding outside. The tattoo gun was still buzzing in my hand (oops, I forgot to turn it off).
But in that moment, looking at my crooked smiley face on his chest... I knew.
He was mine.
And I was his.