I pretend to study a design while straining to hear more, but they lower their voices, making it hard for me to follow their conversation. After about an hour, Frankie calls out to me.
"See something you like?"
I point to the white flower designs.
"These are beautiful."
He studies my face for a moment.
"Do you want one?"
The question catches me off guard.
"A tattoo? Me?"
"Why not?"
I laugh nervously as I stare at the design.
"Do you think my future husband would mind me having one?"
Wolf laughs suddenly before stopping herself. When I look over, she's still bent over Frankie's back, but there's a smirk on her face that makes me uneasy. What is so funny? I see Frankie nudge her with his elbow.
"Don't move!" she scolds. "You'll mess up my work."
He turns back to me, his expression unreadable.
"Get one if you want one. It’s your body."
My body. The concept feels foreign after a lifetime of being told what to wear, where to go, who to marry. The idea of marking my skin permanently, making a choice that can'tbe undone or taken from me…it's intoxicating.
"I'll do it," I say, the decision instant.
Wolf finishes with Frankie's session, covering his fresh ink before turning to me.
"You ready?"
"I'll wait outside. I need to make a call," Frankie says before walking outside.
“Where do you want it?” Wolf asks me curiously.
I hesitate, then point to my ribcage, just below my breast. It’s where the bruise Frankie left on me, the first time we kissed, has faded.
"Here. Small, but detailed."
“It will hurt,” she says.
“I know,” I reply. “It will be worth it.”
“The best things always are,” she says before gesturing for me to lie down.
I remove my shirt and lie on the table, feeling strangely empowered. I watch as she prepares her equipment.
"How do you know Frankie?" I ask.
Her hands pause for a fraction of a second.
"We go way back."
