Chapter 19 Ink of His Tattoos
INK OF HIS TATTOOS
Thankfully, no one else from Tristan’s circle joined my dinner date last night.
Olivia and Ian fought about who would pay.
And then again about Thanksgiving. Ian wanted to go to the cabin and have the Thanksgiving from his childhood, and Olivia called him selfish for making their mom cook.
She wanted to make reservations, to which Ian called her selfish for making people like Finn work on the holiday.
Which started another fight. He dropped me off at home, arguing on the phone with his mother about who was right.
Last night I lay in bed, thinking about Tristan and what Ian had said about Fifty-Two West. I didn’t want to believe that Tristan was a criminal.
He didn’t act like one. Not that I knew what a criminal acted like.
But more than that, it was the whole friend thing.
I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t be able to let go of what we had or to be the person he grabbed lunch with when our schedules allowed it.
It would be for the best if we just ended it.
“Evan, there’s an Aaron on the phone. Says you guys went to high school together,” Heidi announced over the intercom.
Aaron, huh? “Thanks, Heidi.” I picked up the phone. “Aaron? How are you?”
“Shitty.” Tristan’s voice was clear. “I’m sorry about Craig. He had no right.”
“He told you?” A part of me had hoped that Craig wouldn’t say anything. “I didn’t plan on going there. I won’t go back.”
“Ev, it’s okay. Craig crossed the line. You told me you were seeing someone, and we’re just friends, remember?”
I could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Yeah, about that…” I blew out the breath I was holding. “We should talk.”
“We should. Do you want to try lunch again?” he asked.
“Yeah, but nowhere where you know anyone, please.”
“I got it. Old Town Market?”
“Perfect. I’ll be there in twenty.” This was for the best, I told myself. The best for both of us.
The market was busy, but I easily picked out Tristan amongst people wearing business attire.
He had on a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoos.
He was talking to a girl who held a stack of trays.
He laughed and smiled with her. He had changed.
This Tristan wasn’t weighed down by the sins of his father. Or raising a ten-year-old.
And as much as I loved him, I had to let him go.
I loved him in the way I still wanted a life of blueberry pancakes and Sunday mornings.
I wanted late nights on the floor, talking.
The life I still dreamed of sometimes. A life he didn’t want.
I realized this would probably be the last time I would see him.
I wanted to remember him like this. Not the broken Tristan on my bathroom floor.
But this one, with a quick smile, who looked okay.
I forced a smile as he walked over. “Hey,” I said, trying to not sound sad and lonely.
“Hey, you.” He hugged me.
I didn’t pull away right away. I’m happy you’re okay. That’s all I ever wanted. I wished into the beat of his heart and the ink on his skin.
“You okay?” he asked.
I pulled away. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
He put his arm around my shoulder. “That hasn’t changed.”
“What’s that?” Ian and I never did this.
We didn’t have lunch during the week or hold hands.
He didn’t put his arm around me. He didn’t like public affection; he thought it made people seem desperate.
Plus, he didn’t need to prove to the world he was with me.
But Tristan was telling everyone we were friends.
“You’re still a terrible liar.” He slid his arm down and placed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the hall of food vendors. “What are you hungry for?”
“There’s a Mexican place that has really good shrimp tacos.” I had to step closer to him to get through the people that crowded around the craft beer bar. “Or there’s a brick oven pizza place.”
“That has the best cheese pizza?” he asked.
Yes. This was what it was like with someone you had a history with. There was no need to explain why you didn’t like common things other people liked. “Yes, they have a really good Margherita pizza. But they have others.” I suddenly felt like I should have grown into better pizza toppings.
“Let’s do tacos.”
We ordered our food and found a table under a maple tree. The bright yellow leaves gave the table a magical feeling.
“So how did the rest of your night go after Craig tried to defend my honor?”
“Fine.” I picked at my food. “And Craig was fine. He talked about his knives.”
“Christ.” Tristan shook his head.
“How long have you known him?” Stop delaying this. Just get it over with.
“We go back a few years. I crashed at his apartment once or twice.” Tristan didn’t look up from his food. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s married and sells cleansing teas. So if you would like to shit yourself at random times during the day, she has a tea for that.” He laughed again. A light laugh. One I liked the sound of. “How’s Noah?” I’d dance around the ending for a little longer. I wasn’t ready to let go of him yet.
“He’s good, considering everything. He’s going to school for teaching at Bemidji. He lives with his girlfriend, who is also in school for teaching. He plays hockey and finally washes his own clothes.”
“Good to hear he’s washing his own clothes.
” I smiled at the memory of the two of us in my laundry, matching up Noah’s socks.
We were fifteen, playing a game we weren’t equipped to win.
After Tristan and I broke up, Noah stopped calling me, and I didn’t push it.
Noah had enough going on in his life. “And your mom?”
“She’s still my mom.” He picked at his food. “And James is still James. Still a drunk and still working at the potato plant.” Tristan sat up and stretched.
So this was what it looked like to be his friend. We talked about stupid shit. Surface shit. “Some things don’t change, do they?” I didn’t want to talk about stupid surface shit with him. It was time.
“No, they don’t. We don’t talk much.” Tristan pushed his food away. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His left forearm was inked with playing cards that had kings and queens with skulls for faces and broken hearts with swords. On his other arm was an hourglass. The sands were red.
I could tell he was lost in thoughts that hadn’t changed. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he watched the people around us. “Are you okay?”
“No. I fucked up, Ev. I lost everything for nothing.” He ran his thumb over his knuckle.
For all that had changed, there was still so much that was the same.
Which made this hard. “I stayed and nothing changed. Nothing. In fact, it got worse. I got worse.” He ran his hand over his face.
The carefree Tristan I had seen moments ago had been replaced by a sharper one.
“It took me waking up in a hospital to realize that you were right. I should’ve left with you. ”
That was the part of Tristan I hadn’t missed. It had taken me years to stop reaching for him in panic. To not vomit when I smelled Old Spice, James’s favorite aftershave. “What do you want, Tristan? Do you really just want to be friends?”
“No. I want to try again. I want to prove to you that I’ve changed. I want to make up for all the years I missed. Letting you go was the biggest regret in my life. I think about it every day.”
A breeze knocked a few leaves from the tree.
They fluttered and landed on the table. There were moments in our lives, points of no return.
We could move on from them, but they’d be the place where we looked back to see our mistakes or how good things were.
These points shaped us and made us into the people we were.
This was one of those points. A point I would forever regret or forever cherish.
But would it shape who I was?
“I don’t want to be friends either. I mean, I want to be friends, but I want more than that.”
“And I want to try and give you that.”
For a moment I saw a fifteen-year-old Tristan sitting on my bathroom floor, fighting the tears as I pulled glass from his brow.
It was the first time James used something other than his fist. As I picked the glass out, his breath came out in unsteady puffs, his fingertips digging into my hip.
Tristan had been so scared and unsure of what to do that night.
Thankfully, the fear didn’t hit me in those moments.
The fear came after. After Tristan was safely tucked into my bed, but before the nightmares.
Right now, I felt the same fear and uncertainty I saw in his eyes.
I walked over to his side of the table and sat on his lap.
Being close to him was how I calmed my fears.
At night, I lay my head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat.
I needed to know he was okay. I didn’t want to think of him in the hospital alone.
Broken with no one to pick up the pieces or to remind him he was loved.
I wrapped my arms around him and sat. “I should’ve tried harder.
” I kissed the top of his head. We should’ve been together.
He ran his hand up the back of my shirt; his fingers were warm on my skin. No one noticed us. Maybe we looked like we belonged together. Or no one cared.
“No. You did the right thing.” His voice was low.
We sat quietly with the leaves falling around us. People eating and laughing. We sat there not needing to say anything; his head pressed against my chest. My cheek rested on his head. I wanted the sands of time to stop like those frozen in his tattoo. “Tell me something good.”
He pulled away, looking up at me. “I wasn’t supposed to work that night. If Finn hadn’t called out, I would have missed you.”
That thought scared the shit out of me. I ran my thumb along his bottom lip. I should stop this, get up and walk away from him, learn from my mistakes. But I couldn’t. Fate had given me a boy with a perfect mouth and pieces that fit perfectly in my hand. “Please don’t hurt me again.”
“I won’t.”
I bent my head to meet his when my cell rang. “Shit.” I checked the time before I answered it. “Callie. I’m sorry.”
“I’ll take your one o’clock, but I want all the details.”
I looked at Tristan, who ran his thumb over his bottom lip, watching the people around us. “Okay.”
“Eeek, can’t wait to hear all about it.” Callie giggled before hanging up.
“Ev, I’m sorry. I want to prove to you I’m different.
But it’s so hard to be this close to you and yet so far away.
To know what it’s like to kiss you and yet know I shouldn’t.
I want to take this slow. To get to know you.
But in the same breath, I want to pick up right where we left off.
I feel like I have missed so much of your life. ”
“Just the boring parts. And all the studying and all the doubt.” I smiled down at him. For as much of the unknown as there was between us, there was also so much of the known.
“So now what?” he asked.
I rested my cheek on the top of his head.
I had missed him so much. “I have someone else.” I felt him stiffen.
“Someone I need to break it off with.” I should have done it weeks ago, even before Tristan.
“And then, I don’t know. I suppose you don’t need me to write your social studies paper. ” I lifted my head.
“Actually.” He looked up at me. “I never did turn one in so…” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “We can try being adults. Go on dates without my little brother or your mother complaining about me.”
“That would be weird.”
“If it’s too weird, I can ask Craig to tag along. He’s a bit like Noah. Don’t get him high; he’ll want to show you his knife.”
“I don’t think we need Craig. Or his knife.
But a date might be nice.” We had gone straight from a kiss in the woods to him sleeping in my bed.
There were no movie dates. We didn’t go to prom or dances.
Those things seemed too trivial then. I stood, I needed to get back to work and back to my life. “I have to go. I have clients.”
“Yeah, I got an appointment at two.” Tristan gathered up the trays, and we walked out together. It was weird having him in this part of my life. The adult part.
“So when can I see you again?” He grabbed my hand.
“Soon, I hope.”
He smiled at me. I loved that smile; it looked good on him. “How about Friday? I think my roommate is playing at First Ave.”
“I could do Friday.”
“Then Friday it is.” He pulled me into his embrace. “I’ve missed you, Blu.”
That name settled on my skin. It had been twelve years since someone called me Blu. And I missed it as much as I missed the boy who called me that.