Never Never(41)

As expected, she’s pretending to be disappointed in herself.

As expected, I feel triumphant.

“You got a tattoo,” I tell her, pointing my finger in her direction. “It’s on you. Your skin. My name.” I can’t stop with the stupid smile plastered across my face. She rolls her eyes again, just as our food is laid in front of us.

I push mine aside and search the meaning for the name Charlie. I don’t pull anything up that could mean pearls. After a few minutes, she finally sighs and says, “Try Margaret. My middle name.”

I search the name Margaret and read the results out loud.

“Margaret, from the Greek term meaning pearl.”

I set my phone down. I don’t know why it seems like I’ve just won a bet, but I feel victorious.

“It’s a good thing you’re giving me a new name,” she says, matter of fact.

A new name my ass.

I pull my plate in front of me and pick up a french fry. I point it at her and wink. “We’re branded. You and me. We are so in love, Charlie. You feeling it yet? Do I make your heart go pitter patter?”

“These aren’t our tattoos,” she says.

I shake my head. “Branded,” I repeat. I raise my index finger as if I’m gesturing over her shoulder. “Right there. Permanently. Forever.”

“God,” she groans. “Shut up and eat your damn burger.”

I eat it. I eat the entire thing with a shit-eating grin.



“What now?” I ask, leaning back in my seat. She’s barely touched her food and I’m pretty sure I just broke a record with how fast I ate mine.

She looks up at me and I can see by the trepidation in her expression that she already knows what she wants to do next, she just doesn’t want to bring it up.

“What is it?”

Her eyes narrow. “I don’t want you to make a smart-ass comment in response to what I’m about to suggest.”

“No, Charlie,” I say immediately. “We aren’t eloping tonight. The tattoos are enough commitment for now.”

She doesn’t roll her eyes at my joke this time. She sighs, defeated, and leans back in her seat.

I hate her reaction. I like it a whole lot more when she rolls her eyes at me.

I reach across the table and cover her hand with mine, rubbing my thumb over hers. “I’m sorry,” I say. “Sarcasm just makes this whole thing feel a little less frightening.” I remove my hand from hers. “What did you want to say? I’m listening. Promise. Lumberjack’s honor.”

She laughs with a small roll of her eyes and I’m relieved. She glances up at me and shifts in her seat, then begins playing with her straw again. “We passed a few…tarot shops. I think maybe we should get a reading.”

I don’t even start at her comment. I just nod and pull my wallet out of my pocket. I lay enough money on the table to cover our bill and then I stand up. “I agree,” I tell her, reaching out for her hand.

I actually don’t agree, but I feel bad. These last two days have been exhausting and I know she’s tired. The least I can do is make this easier for her, despite knowing this hocus pocus bullshit isn’t going to enlighten us in any way.

We pass a few tarot shops during our search, but Charlie shakes her head each time I point one out. I’m not sure what she’s looking for, but I actually like walking the streets with her, so I’m not complaining. She’s holding my hand, and sometimes I put my arm around her and pull her against me when the paths become too narrow. I don’t know if she’s noticed, but I’ve been leading us through a lot of these narrow paths unnecessarily. Any time I see a big crowd, I aim for it. After all, she’s still my back-up plan.

After about half an hour longer of walking, it looks like we’re reaching the end of the French quarter. The crowds are dwindling, giving me fewer excuses to pull her to me. Some of the shops we’re passing have already closed. We make it to St. Philip Street when she pauses in front of an art gallery window.

I stand next to her and stare at the displays illuminated inside the building. There are plastic body parts suspended from the ceiling, and giant, metal sea life clinging to the walls. The main display, which is directly in front of us, just happens to be a small corpse—wearing a strand of pearls.

She taps her finger against the glass, pointing at the corpse. “Look,” she says. “It’s me.” She laughs and moves her attention to somewhere else inside the store.