I Fell in Love with Hope(70)

“Alright,” he nods, once she’s done. “You want a design with it or just the phrase?”

“A design?” Sony cocks her head to the side, her knees up, dirty white sneakers tapping on the chair’s seat.

Our first meeting flashes in my memory. The same shoes forever on her feet, the same temper and bravery no matter how much breath she can draw. The same careless, joyful, passionate attitude she’s always had, the spirit of a child in the body of a thief that could rob even a sentimental vending machine.

“I have an idea,” I say.

Sony beams at me. “Okay! Don’t tell me though! I want it to be a surprise! It better not be Eric’s face.”

“It’s not,” I promise.

I whisper my idea in Carl’s ear. He pulls out a little notepad and draws a simple version of my request. I tell him it looks right, and he prints the stencil.

“Remember, it’s gonna hurt a little, okay?” he says.

“Go for it! I fear nothing.”

Carl laughs. “I don’t doubt that. Try not to move, honey.”

Sony hums for the endearment.

While Carl gets to work, Hikari and I explore the graffiti rampant parlor. Bold colors pop against the dark walls, drawings like I’ve never seen all over them. Hikari takes my hand in hers and points to her favorite designs. I ask her what kind of gods tattoo artists are in her bohemian religion. She smirks over her shoulder, lips twisting as if she’s trying to rein in her amusement. She doesn’t answer me. Her arms have more devious ideas. They sneak and interlink around my back as she recommends I get definitions tattooed on my hand. For the sake of remembering pretentious Latin meanings. I tell her she should get her drawings tattooed on her so they live forever. She tells me sometimes I am more considerate than her teasing allows.

“How are you doing, Sony?” C asks.

“I’m great!” Sony yells. We are only privy to the finished product, she said, so we listen from the other side of the shop. Sony chuckles. “It feels like a spicy ultrasound.”

“So what do you do? You a college student?” Carl asks her.

“Nah. I just take care of kids. Most of them are in oncology or the daycare center. It’s gonna be my job soon.”

“That sounds fun.”

“It’s so fun! Kids are great. I mean they can be jerks sometimes, but they’re honest and funny and a little crazy. It’s never boring.”

“I get what you mean. I have four younger siblings. They’re monsters, but I love ‘em.”

“Those are my four little monsters right over there,” Sony says. I see her finger pointing at us.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sony says. “They’re my family.”

Carl and Sony continue their conversation over the subtle pen’s buzzing. Hikari tells me Carl is smitten. I ask how she’s able to tell. She says he has the same look I did when we met on the roof. I remind her that I was equally terrified as I was smitten. She says Sony is equally terrifying as she is beautiful.

C agrees. He flips through outdated magazines, one earbud blasting in his ear, his natural state of being.

Neo on the other hand, still isn’t with us. He’s in his hospital room, fixed to his chair, his father’s figure looming over him. His only sign of life past staring out the window is a methodical thumb and forefinger looping around his wrist.

“Neo?” C draws a hand over Neo’s knee. “Where are you?”

“My dad’s gonna be angry about this. He’s gonna look for me. You know that right?” Neo asks, holding his papers so close that the stack’s wedges crease.

“Hey,” C says. “What’d I tell you? No one’s gonna get through us.”

“I don’t care what he does to me,” Neo bites.

C stands, towering over Neo, taking the same care of him as he has since Neo was at the mercy of crutches and wheelchairs.

“He can’t hurt any of us. Not here.”

C grabs Neo’s face in his hands. Neo’s face is so small compared to his palms. They practically envelop him. C smiles as he does this, poking Neo’s cheeks. Even if Neo is in the process of creating wrinkles between his brows, you can tell this calms him.

“You’re getting one too, right?” C asks.

Neo’s lip lifts in disgust. “A tattoo?”

“Yeah. When you’re a big famous author, and you’re being rude to all your fans at signings, you’re gonna need something to remember us by.”

C’s words crank a lever, wounding up Neo’s face. He pulls C’s hands off his face and turns around.

“You’re an idiot,” he says under his breath.

C gets defensive. “Tattoos aren’t that reckless, Neo-”

“You’re an idiot to think I could forget you,” Neo says with his chest, offended. “And don’t act like you’re not going to be bothering me at signings, anyway. It’s our book remember. Not mine.”

Neo and his words are in a forbidden affair. A robbed passion. Language and his craft are furiously in love. You can feel their bond radiate from every drop of ink that ever was and will be.

“We’re all done, guys,” Carl calls.

Hikari and I are the first to see the tattoo. Sony sits up, admiring the mirror Carl holds up, so that she may take in the subtle beauty of a symbol that will live as long as she.