I nod. “Yep. And do you know why I have a squirrel and bunnies on my arm?”
Luke’s eyes go wide. “No. Why?”
I can’t help laughing then, and I point to my shoulder. “This is a tree,” I explain, my fingers trailing over the intricate green leaves and branches. My entire left arm is covered shoulder to wrist with a woodland scene. I go back to the bunnies. “These two represent my parents…” I catch myself and don’t say mama and papa again, just in case that hits a nerve. “And the squirrel represents my middle brother, Vito.” I cup my hand to my mouth and lower my voice as though I don’t want Vito to hear.
“He’s always running around and eating everybody else’s snacks,” I explain.
Luke starts cracking up, and even little Cora chuckles. There’s, of course, more meaning behind the animals I chose for my siblings, but I think this is plenty of information for now. I point out the owl that stands for my older brother.
“Because he’s a really bossy know-it-all,” I say, and I’m rewarded with yet another round of laughter when I roll my eyes. I save the best for last.
“And this…” I point to a frog wearing a crown that covers the entire top of my left wrist. The jaunty expression is made even more hilarious by the flippered foot that rests on the cap of a bright red-and-white polka-dotted mushroom. “This little guy represents my brother Benito. He thinks he’s the king of the family.” I lean closer to Luke and whisper loudly, “Benny’s kind of a pain in the butt.”
Luke now seems completely relaxed. He even leans forward and touches the crown on Benny’s little frog head. “Did you draw all that?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I didn’t draw it myself. I came up with all the ideas and had a very talented friend draw these. And look.” I rub my fingers vigorously against my skin. “It doesn’t come off. The colors are there forever.”
Most kids who’ve never seen tattoos this detailed or this up close ask the same things. Does it wash off? Did you use markers? Why is it forever? I’ve become pretty good at predicting the questions, but then little Luke asks one that throws me.
“What about you?” He cocks his head and inspects the furled leaves and long, lush green grass that fill up the spaces between the animals that represent my family. “There are no more animals, so what happened to you?”
Ryder’s voice is warm and invades me like a sudden ray of sunshine breaking through a storm. “Look, buddy. She’s the tree.”
Without touching me, he points to the front part of my shoulder, where a face has been carefully designed to blend in with the leaves. It’s an elegant profile, but the dark brow that’s been inked to look like part of a leaf’s texture and the distinctive lips and nose are clearly mine.
“It’s a family tree,” Ryder says, a note of such deep respect in his voice that I feel raw. I’m used to people asking about my tattoos, complimenting them, even. But his appreciation seems so much more profound.
I nod, surprised at the sudden emotions clogging my chest. I stand up and smooth my hair, trying to calm my heart. I don’t know why it’s racing.
Or why the hell this man with his shoulders and his sneakers and his mama-less kids has my tummy in knots. But this feels like the right time to end this conversation. “Now you know all about my art,” I say, trying to sound more cheerful than I feel.
Carol has been quietly watching the whole exchange like we’re an episode of her favorite reality show.
I lift a brow at her, trying not to feel annoyed because I know if this man is single, the very next call she’ll make will be to my mother. The unofficial Star Falls matchmaking circle doesn’t need much to start spinning out of control. My ma and her friends have gotten their panties twisted over a whole lot less than a harmless chat between me and a guy who’s new to town.
This means it’s definitely time for me to go.
4
RYDER
It’sone thing to have a single tattoo that has some kind of personal meaning, but it’s an entirely different story to permanently ink a family portrait of sorts onto your body.
I didn’t look closely at her tattoos the other day, but now that I know what her left arm means, I want to know everything about this woman. She must be close to her family, and she clearly has a sense of humor. But more than that, she has depth.
I’ve caught glimpses of her other designs, and while she didn’t walk my son through the images on her right arm, she has a whole sleeve there too that now has me incredibly curious.
I want to ask more, to say anything to stop her from walking away.
“Daddy, your tummy is talking.” Cora takes my face in both hands and looks right into my eyes. “We didn’t eat lunch yet.”
I feel something sticky that I wish I could identify smearing from Cora’s hands onto my face.
Gracie is doing that awkward thing where she’s rocking on her heels, trying to slip away.
“Daddy, I’m hungry too.” Cora’s looking like she’s about to burst into tears, so I have about two seconds to redirect her before she has a full-on meltdown.
“I’m sooooo hungry,” I moan dramatically, amping up the silliness to keep my baby girl happy. “And Cora is sooooo hungry. Let’s ask Luke. What about you, little man?”
