* * *
The lights are dim in her room. I follow her as she walks into her bathroom, facing the mirror. Flicking on the lights, she pulls up her shirt and exposes the clear plastic wrap bandage. Her hand covers the tattoo from my view.
I sit on the counter beside her and place my hands behind my hips. My hands grip the sink as I wait for her to show me. “You need to keep that on for a couple of days and add that”—I nod with my head toward the cleanser that’s in her hand—“on it every day to clean it.”
She nods and bites her lip. Her eyes have a faraway look to them as she gazes at herself in the mirror. “Can I look at it without the plastic wrap?”
“Of course. Just cover it back up after,” I reply, eager to see her tattoo.
She swallows tightly and gives me a small smile. Her fingers grip the bandage, dragging it off her skin. I watch as she winces.
“It’s so sore.”
I chuckle and nod in agreement. Tattoos are not for the weak. I watch intensely as she peels off the entire thing, revealing a piece of her I know is special. Turning her body sideways toward where I sit, she smiles.
My eyes take in the two beautiful birds. One is larger than the other. It looks distant, as if it’s flying away. The other is smaller, and it seems to be forgotten by the other.
“This one”—Trinity points to the larger bird—“is my dad.” Her finger points to the smaller one. “And that’s me.” Her eyes tear up. “My dad and I used to bird-watch when we were up in the tree house. It was our thing besides singing together.” She shrugs. “This way, he’ll be with me forever.”
When I lightly touch the raw skin, she flinches.
I breathe out, “Why did you choose to get it here?”
“Because it’s the closest place I could get to my heart.” She looks in the mirror. “My dad’s not here with us anymore, but he’ll always be in my heart. You’ve made me realize that, Leonidas, and I’ll forever be grateful.”
I watch the strong, stunning girl in front of me. My eyes roam over the new art on her body. I love it; the birds are small, not very overwhelming, which I like. I want to look at it for days, knowing I’ll find more unique details each minute. The most beautiful thing about it though is not the art itself; it’s the story behind it.
Pulling her body in between my legs, I place my forehead on hers. “Your dad would be so proud,” I whisper, holding her tighter as she registers my words before her body shakes as she cries.
THIRTY
TRINITY
Ifeel like a true rebel now. Mom came home yesterday morning, not noticing a thing.
Getting inked yesterday was one of the best decisions I’ve made this year. Having a piece of Dad forever on me makes me happy. The thought of having something that reminds me of him brings peace to my mind. I have Elijah to thank for that. I instantly liked the idea of getting something, but I wanted it to be important … special.
I thought about a music note but winced. I then remembered our special, peaceful days when we would bird-watch in the tree house. We would sit side by side and lock both of our gazes on the woods in front of us. I would call out in a whisper-shout when I saw a blue jay. They’re my favorite. I love the vibrant blue color of their wings, how their chirp is unique.
So, I saw the opportunity and took it. The best part was Leonidas staying by my side and distracting me from the pain. Getting a tattoo hurts—the constant stabbing feeling, like sandpaper being rubbed on your skin in just one area. My skin under the bandage feels burned and crispy. Yuck.
I know I’ll eventually have to tell Mom about the tattoo, but not right now. She’ll murder me with her bare hands. I can’t leave Leonidas alone in this cruel world.
“When are you ungrounded?” Harper asks over the line.
Sighing, I lie down on my bed and snuggle into Simba’s body. “Ask my mom that question because I’m just as clueless.”
“What about that guy, Leonidas? You only have the summer with him, right?”
My mood immediately drops. Why did she have to mention him moving away?
“Yeah … we only have the summer.” I sigh and kiss Simba on the head when he licks my hand.
I hear movement on the other line.
“There has to be something you can do,” she states strongly.
I hum and let out a laugh. My mom is very hardheaded. When she wants something, she gets it. And if me being grounded is what she wants, then that’s what she’s getting.
