He traced the stencil onto me and then held up a mirror so I could check I was happy with the blue outline. Knowing it was part of Jake’s tattoo meant I didn’t even need to look. Of course I was happy with it.
“That’s going to look great there,” Cass said, obviously picking up on my lack of focus. I watched Dave line up small pots of ink on the cling-filmed surface and snap on his black latex gloves. With a slow, respectful stroke, he covered the area above my hip with Vaseline. The only person I could remember ever touching me there was Jake. There was no inch of my body he hadn’t explored. But this felt nothing like the way Jake touched me, and the lack of response it generated in me proved it.
“Ready?” Even with half of my knickers on show in a room filled with men, even with the knowledge of impending pain, I knew I was.
“Oh, yes!” I squeezed Cass’s hand and braced myself for the pain as the buzzing started.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Okay, maybe I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was. The quiet buzzing belied the absolute agony of the needle piercing my skin thousands of times a second. It wasn’t the gentle scraping I’d read about. It was like the school bully was torturing me by dragging a compass through every nerve. I could feel it move across my skin, a trail of burning heat being left in its wake. I couldn’t stop myself swearing. Repeatedly. Words my mum would cry over if she ever heard them spew from my lips.
“That’s okay. Let it out. Women are better than blokes. They admit it hurts. Let me know if you need a break from it. All right?”
“I’ll be fine-shiiiittt!” I’m sure I came pretty close to breaking Cass’s hand with how tightly I was gripping it.
“It’s easier if you look at it whilst I’m doing it. The pain makes sense then,” Dave advised. I looked down but his arms concealed his work from me. I focussed on looking at them instead, trying to work out what the intricate sleeves comprised of. Surprisingly, they were mainly flowers, all sorts of elaborate roses, lilies and others I couldn’t recognise. I took it as another sign from Jake and tried to practice the mindfulness breathing they had taught us in school as a stress-management technique.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Maybe it was the breathing, or maybe it was the adrenalin finally kicking in, but I found some sort of zen place which made the pain manageable. All I was aware of was the beat of music I didn’t recognise playing in the background. I synced my breathing to the rhythm and closed my eyes, imagining myself somewhere warm and less painful.
My reverie was abruptly broken by loud coughing from Cass and I looked up to see her flushed face. Just as I was about to ask her what was wrong, I saw the reason. A guy in his mid-twenties walked past us into the small kitchen area and poured himself a cup of water from the machine. He was shirtless. He was inked. He was muscular. He was way beyond hot. Cass and I couldn’t stop ourselves gawping at this perfect specimen of masculinity. As he gulped down a second cup of water, muscles rippling beneath his taut skin, it was like we were having our own personal Diet Coke advert played in front of us. Hmmm.
“I’m over here, guys.” Dave’s ironic comment brought my attention back from Adonis. “I think you’re done, chick. Stand up and take a look.” I gingerly moved off the table and walked over to the full-length mirror. I braced myself before focusing in on the tattoo. It was perfect and reminded me so much of Jake’s sleeve. I imagined him calling me Myrtle, a cheeky glint in his eyes.
“It’s beautiful, Neve.” Cass’s smile was reflected in the mirror. I smiled teary thanks in Dave’s direction.
“We’re not quite finished. Lie back down.” He swapped to a new glove and took a scoop of Vaseline from the jar before carefully smoothing it over my skin. “Now, this is the sexy bit,” he joked, covering his artwork with cling-film and securing it with surgical tape. He went through how I needed to look after the tattoo, in the short-and long-term, as I pulled my leggings back up, wincing slightly when they grazed my hip.
“So, why myrtle?” Dave asked as he walked us through to the reception area.
“It symbolises love and immortality.” And Jake.
“Cool. You learn something every day.”
After paying and getting a big bear hug from Dave, we left and stepped into the watery light of the winter sun.
“I’m so proud of you, lovely.” Cass gave me the sort of hug only a best friend can give. “What do you want to do now? Walk down to the river? Grab a coffee?” I knew what I really wanted to do.
“Do you mind if we just go back home? I want to see Jake.”