Just Before You Go

When we arrived in Minnesota, I was deeply disappointed to find that we’d also found the cold. Everyone was bundled up as crews trudged through the rain to get the equipment inside without fowl. Jimmy was pressed against the window, sleeping peacefully as everyone roared around him. The rain hit the glass behind him haphazardly—it was such a picturesque moment that I had to take a picture.
“He’ll kill you,” Brian grinned as he whizzed by me, Jimmy stirring from the flash of my disposable camera.
He grumbled tiredly, rubbing at his eyes and instinctively feeling around for his glasses. When he didn’t find them, he cracked his icy blues open and quickly glanced around. It was if he was panicked that he didn’t know where he was. The whole thing made me laugh.
“What year is it?” Jimmy yawned, stretching his tattooed arms above his head.
“1503,” I told him seriously. “I’m twelve and set to be your mistress.”
“Twelve?” he snickered. “Better get to it before you die of old age.”
We laughed and laughed. Jimmy leaned his head back up against the window, lulling himself almost back to sleep.
“I’m leaving,” I informed him.
Suddenly he was awake.
“Where?”
I shrugged, “I’ve got…things to do…before the show tonight.”
“Things,” he repeated flatly, but then his face turned suspicious. “You don’t have things to do.”
“I do!” I insisted. “Brian and I looked it up on the way in. While you were snoring away over here.”
“What things?” he asked more pleasantly, scooting himself to the edge of the bench. “I want to come!”
Jimmy had basically been incapacitated throughout the entirety of our journey to my home state. Everyone was so thrilled to have the beast be dormant that we’d all basically tip-toed around him. Blair had accidently dropped a can of peas at one point—the terror on her face as she stared at Jimmy in anticipation was hilarious. He’d slept through the explosion; and the subsequent cleanup. Blair swore up and down that it wasn’t weird to eat peas out of a can. Brian told her it was.
Everyone retired to their bunks but Brian, Blair and I. At first it was strange to be a third wheel to the Bs, but they hardly acted like a couple at all…which made it easier, and confusing, to be near them. I wondered if they were a couple. No one had made it clear yet.
Eventually Blair had fallen asleep, her head in Brian’s lap. He hardly seemed to notice as he and I continued to work together in some first person shooter-type video game. I was unbelievably bad at it. We paused so Brian could take a long swig of his beer.
Blair rolled, burying her face into the folds of Brian’s tee as her hair fell away from her neck. I caught myself staring; but not in the usual, overly creepy and in love way that I’d often found myself casting at Blair. This time, it was curiosity. There was that tattoo again. She had so many that I wasn’t sure why this one was particularly interesting to me.
But then I worked it out.
“Do you know the story of Blair’s tattoo?” I asked Brian quietly, careful not to wake the angel against his leg.
He eyed me weirdly, wiping at his lip, “Which one?”
“Any of them,” I laughed.
His eyes glanced down at her, walking themselves along the inked edges of her body. He shrugged, “Not really. I never thought to ask.”
“The one on her neck,” I whispered, pointing to it. “Tyler has the same one on his chest.”
He smirked, “And?”
“What is it?” I asked him like he’d know.
“They’re obviously part of a secret society,” Brian joked lamely, taking another long swig of his beer.
“I just want to know what it means,” I sighed, feeling defeated.
It was a colorful piece, though fairly small. It covered the entire back of her neck but was careful not to stretch around in any capacity. It was a jar—and in the jar was half a heart and half a brain, stitched together loosely. Where the stitches ended, wires began. It was interesting to look at—but it had to have a meaning. I was desperate to know what it was.
Tattoos fascinated me. They hadn’t always, but after meeting Jimmy I’d found them so compelling. I’d demanded to know the origin and inspiration behind every single one of Jimmy’s—he was happy to fill me in.
As Brian reached around to set his beer on the ledge behind the couch, I caught myself looking at his too. He caught me, looking suddenly violated.
“Don’t check me out,” he laughed awkwardly.
I groaned at him, “I’m not. I was looking at your tattoos.”
“What’s with you and tattoos tonight?” he asked with a subtle grin. “Thinking of getting one or what?”
I considered this. I knew that my parents would absolutely flip if I came home adorned in ink one night—but then I reminded myself casually that I wasn’t sixteen and they weren’t my guardians anymore. That they weren’t really anything to me anymore.
Before I could totally bum myself out, I moved along. Blair stirred again in her sleep, mumbling something inaudibly. I watched as Brian affectionately brushed the hair from her face, tucking it neatly behind her pierced ear.
“You love her, huh?” I smiled.
His eyes widened, catching himself being obvious. He straightened out a bit, acting totally nonchalant about the obvious adoration he held for the girl.
“So, tattoos,” Brian replied—how smooth.
“Not going to tell me the truth?” I smirked.
He shook his head, “Absolutely not. Let’s go back to you.”
I rolled my eyes, “Yeah…I think about getting one sometimes.”
“What would you get?” he asked curiously.
“I’m not sure,” I thought aloud. “It would need to be important…”
“Nah,” Brian interrupted loudly. “That’s overrated.”
“It would be cool to get one in Minnesota,” I shrugged, watching Brian for reaction.
He immediately pulled his phone from his pocket, careful enough not to disturb Blair but quickly enough not to lose effect, “I’m all over it.”
We’d found a tattoo shop within reasonable distance of the venue. Brian swore it looked alright, and judging by the sheer amount of ink permanently carved into his skin, I was inclined to trust him.
Jimmy followed me out from the bus, stalling only to disappear into the bunk to grab his glasses. With proper sight positioned atop his nose, we made our way. He grumbled angrily about the rain, pulling up the hood of his sweater to hide his black hair from the drops.
I didn’t mind the rain at all.
“So, where are we going?” Jimmy asked happily as we dodged a giant puddle.
“I’m going to do something,” I told him vaguely but sternly.
He squinted at me from behind his thick rims, “I got that part. But what’re you going to do?”
I refused to tell him. I didn’t really think he’d talk me out of it—but I was afraid that he might. I wanted to make a decision for myself for once, Jimmy was just an accomplice at that point.
“How much do you know about Blair?” I asked him curiously as we walked.
Jimmy shrugged, “I know some things for sure.”
“Do you know anything about the tattoo on her neck?” I asked.
It would have been easier to ask Blair herself. I knew this. But…Blair was so guarded—it would have taken an eternity to catch her on a good day where she’d be willing to open up about herself. Especially about her life. If it had been important enough to share with Tyler and her body, there was no way she was letting me into it. I thought she may have let Jimmy in, though.
“The simulation thing?” Jimmy asked simply.
Progress. At least now I knew what I was looking at—kind of.
“Simulation?” I repeated, puzzled.
He nodded, “You know, the simulation theory.”
I didn’t know.
“Oh, Aria,” he snickered. “It’s a theory that we’re all not actually conscious. We’re just part of a simulation.”
“I can’t…” I stopped to laugh nervously. “That’s too deep of a rabbit hole.”
He smirked, scrunching his nose up at me a bit, “Maybe you’re just too afraid to get into it.”
“Maybe,” I shrugged.
“What about her tattoo anyway?” Jimmy asked cheerfully, skipping ahead so he could turn to face me as we walked. “Obsession still in high gear or some shit?”
“I honestly don’t know,” I smiled. “It’s just interesting.”
“You and tattoos,” Jimmy teased with a groan. “You should probably just fucking get one.”
I grinned from ear to ear, “I am!”
He scowled.
“I am!” I said again. “That’s where we’re going!”
“What?” he gasped. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“My baby’s getting her first tattoo?” he shouted at me excitedly. “Oh, fuck yeah!”
“I’m not a baby,” I chuckled, ignoring his cheering.
He wiggled his brows at me, “You’re my baby.”
“Don’t be gross!” I whined, rounding a corner.
I could already see the sign off in the distance. It stuck out like a sore thumb. Anxiety hit me like a freight train. I’d been so excited just seconds before—but now I was terrified.
“Does it hurt?” I asked worriedly.
Jimmy shrugged, jogging to catch up from the corner I’d left him at. He’d been so distracted with his happy moves that he’d totally missed my turning.
“A bit,” he replied simply.
My eyes widened with worry, “Where does it hurt the least?”
“It’s different for everyone, man,” he told me factually.
Sensing my impending panic, he swept me into his long arms and kissed me quickly on the forehead.
“Don’t worry,” he assured me. “It’s quick! Unless you’re getting a sleeve or some shit…then it isn’t quick.”
“I don’t want to tell you what I’m getting until I’ve already gotten it,” I said lamely.
He eyed me suspiciously, “Why? Is it a dick or something?”
I laughed, “Yes, Jimmy. It’s a dick.”
“Come on, weirdo,” he encouraged in a sing-song way. “Let’s get you in there before you lose your wits.”
I made Jimmy wait outside while I talked to the man. They took walk-ins and, luckily, had time to squeeze me in. I fidgeted restlessly in the chair as the guy fitted a piece of parchment paper to my shoulder. That’s what it looked like anyway. He let me check it out in the mirror but I honestly could not see straight. I was so nervous I wanted to die…
The pain wasn’t as bad as I’d always imagined it would be. After two minutes, though, I was ready to be done. Jimmy was grinning at me like an idiot, sitting across from me so that he could watch my “pain face”. It almost made me weary that my pain brought him so much amusement.
“We’re done!” the man with the needle declared.
I grumbled to myself as I slid off the chair, “Thank god.”
He instructed me to check it out in the mirror. The sight of the black ink, mixed a bit with my blood, was surreal. It felt like looking at someone else. How could anyone sit through that long enough to get absolutely covered? My boyfriend was a prime example of patience, I decided then.
“What do you think?” the man asked me.
I smiled because I felt I had to, “It’s great.”
He covered it up and I hid it from Jimmy. It wasn’t until we were back out on the street that Jimmy, bouncing on his toes, demanded to see it.
“It’s covered,” I told him.
He waved me off, “Fuck that. No one leaves that shit on.”
“He said four hours!” I argued.
“Why won’t you show it to me?” Jimmy asked skeptically. “Is it my face? Tell me it’s my face.”
“It’s not your face,” I smirked.
“Then show me!” he whined like a child.
It had been a better idea in theory than in execution. I didn’t want to show him. But his greedy little mitts were pawing at me within an instant. I let him pull back the tape and I waited for the berating of questions.
“It’s…” he paused. “For me?”
“About you,” I nodded slowly. “I realize now that it’s super weird…I’m so sorry…I shouldn’t—”
A smile grew on his face, “Why me?”
“Because I love you,” I said dumbly. “Because…I’m in this, Jim. I’m in it for the long haul…and even if it doesn’t work out, I want to remember it. I don’t want to forget about a single thing that’s happened…because even when it’s been shitty and hard…this has been the best time of my life. Every day since I met you…I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.”
“Forever,” Jimmy said quietly with a distinct smile.
“FoRever,” I noted nervously.
He grabbed my hand immediately and dragged me back into the shop. The same burly man was pleased to have a second walk-in of the morning—and more than pleased to tattoo James Sullivan. He berated him with questions as he readied his station. I was beyond confused but wasn’t going to argue.
My shoulder burned like the fire of a thousand suns. I tried to ignore that constant stinging as the distinct sound of the needle kicked up again. It was faster this time, though. Within ten minutes, Jimmy was bounding toward the door.
He tipped the man handsomely for our impulsiveness. I didn’t know you were supposed to tip tattoo artists—so Jimmy tipped him again for me.
Once we were outside, Jimmy grabbed me by the face and forced his lips onto mine. I made absolutely no effort to stop him.
Pulling away, he ripped at his bandage and proudly displayed his ring finger to me, wiggling it as if the ink had always been there.
“I love you,” he smiled happily. “Forever.”
His stupid finger read Aria.
My parents would lose their god damn minds. But I didn’t care.

Notes

I'm sorry for the delay in updates! I almost got taken out by the flu.

But I survived long enough to throw up another chapter.

xx