He chuckled. “This is a legitimate tattoo shop.
What were you thinking?”
My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met.
“Right,” I said, looking around. “Well, then,
could I get a tattoo? Something…intimidating?”
He scanned me, smiling. “Sorry. We don’t tattoo
minors.”
“Okay. Can I just…hang out here for a bit?”
<
10:58
“Suit yourself.”
614
I wasn’t used to talking to…tattoo artists. “I’m
Sarah,” I blurted.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” he said. Later, I
learned his name was Jake, that he was seven
years older than me, that he was not only a
tattoo artist but also a painter, a “half–assed
artist,” as he called himself. I still smiled
remembering that first awkward encounter. And
then, the smile would fade, replaced by a
familiar ache.
- 15.
After breaking up with Mark, I didn’t go back to
my dad’s. He’d just lecture me, and I didn’t
want to explain the whole mess. Ashley would
tell him anyway. She’d probably broadcast the
broken engagement to everyone, making sure I
shared her humiliation. I crashed at my best
friend Chloe’s place. She was my college
く
10:58
roommate.
614
“Sarah,” she said, hugging me tight, “get some
rest. Tomorrow, we’re going out. No sad
thoughts, okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just wasted two years of my
life on the wrong guy.”
“Tell me about it.”
Chloe had always thought Mark wasn’t that into
- me. He was hot and cold, never truly attentive.
But I hadn’t been that into him either. I loved
Jake. I’d wanted Jake to see me through those
eyes, to feel like he was still watching over me.
Crazy, I know.
- 16.
The next night, Chloe took me to her family’s
bar. Music pulsed, lights flashed, glasses
clinked. Jake never wanted me to drink. I’d
nhoved harely touching alcohol since he died
10:58
<
614
2005
obeyed, barely touching alcohol since he died.
But tonight, I wanted to drink. I wanted that
brief taste of illusion I’d had at the cemetery.
Someone grabbed my wrist. “Sarah, stop
drinking.” It was Mark. He frowned at me.
My face went flat. “What’s it to you?” I pulled
my hand away.
“I know you’re upset about my Quora answer.
But you don’t have to drown your sorrows.”
My patience, already thin, snapped. “Leave me
alone. I set you free to be with your first love.
So just…go.”
His eyes widened. I’d always been gentle with him, never used harsh language. He’d never
seen this side of me. But that gentleness had
never been for him. It had been for Jake’s eyes,
to show him I was doing okay, that I was happy.
<
- 17.
“Stop drinking! Look at you!” Mark grabbed my glass, slamming it on the table. “This isn’t like
you.”
Chloe emerged from the dance floor, stepping
between us. Then Ashley arrived, clinging to
Mark’s arm. “Mark, what’s the big deal?
Sarah’s been drinking since high school. She
can handle it.”
I laughed. “True.”
Mark sighed. “Sarah, let’s go home and talk.
We don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not going back there,” I said. “Be happy.”
Chloe chimed in. “Mark, your first love is right
here. What are you doing bothering Sarah?
She’s being incredibly gracious, letting you two be together. I, for one, hope you two get
<
hitched and have a dozen kids. Now shoo.”
“You told me to talk to her…”
Ashley interrupted. “He was here with me. He
just saw you being pathetic and wanted to be
nice. Don’t be so ungrateful.” She searched my
face for signs of pain.
My eyes were cold. “I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
Ashley touched her forehead dramatically.
“Mark, my head hurts. This music is too loud.”
Mark’s attention snapped back to her. “Ashley’s
just recovering. I’m taking her home. We’ll talk
later, Sarah.”
He led Ashley away. Chloe snorted. “He
probably thinks you’re here drowning your
sorrows over him. What a conscience.”
I squeezed Chloe’s hand. “It’s fine. I wasn’t
<
really into him anyway.” Wrong guy. Had I ever
loved him? Not one bit.
A girl next to us answered her phone, her voice
sweet and teasing. “Okay, okay, I’ll be home
soon. Don’t worry so much…” I watched her,
remembering a night in college. I’d gone to
Chloe’s bar for her birthday, gotten drunk, and
Jake had come to get me. He carried me to his
car, then carried me into his apartment, and
kissed me senseless. The next morning, my lips
were swollen. I asked him what happened.
“You got…drunk and had an allergic reaction,”
he’d teased.
“No way.”
