Page 55 of Time Exposure
“I’ll give you directions,” I tell her.
I guide her through traffic for four or five miles before telling her to pull into a parking lot. When we park, she peers up at the sign, shakes her head, and laughs. “Really? Again?”
Laughing right alongside her, I shrug. “What can I say? There’s just something I need to do before we go home.”
Cora cocks a brow at me and I know it is due to my casual reference to home. But she won’t argue with me. For us, home has never consisted of four walls, a floor and a roof. Home has always been when we are together. “Alright.”
We get out of the car and walk up to the storefront. I open the door and Cora’s eyes scan every inch of the tattoo shop. Luckily, this shop is open more hours than most due to the number of artists. I walk up to the counter and the woman that looks up at me shakes her head. She is the same woman from yesterday. Hot pink hair, the front half rolled up and pinned close to her scalp, the back half left loose to her shoulders. She blows a bubble from her gum and lets it pop like it’s second nature.
“Everything okay?” she asks. No hello or how are you. She must assume something is wrong with the tattoo I got yesterday.
“Everything is fantastic,” I say and she rolls her eyes. “I’d like to get another tat.”
“Oh,” she perks up. “Well, the same artist who worked on you yesterday isn’t here right now. You cool with that?”
“That’s fine. It’s nothing extravagant.”
After a few minutes, I fill out the same form again and give her my ID. Once the formalities are out of the way, a woman comes out of the back. Her right arm is decked out in a full sleeve of ink. From what I can tell, it appears to reach her back as well. Her hair is a rich, dark brown and she has it pinned in a messy bun with a folded bandana tied at the top. She has this whole 1950s pinup girl/rockabilly vibe going on.
“Hi, I’m Autumn,” she introduces herself and shakes my hand. “Looking for something specific today?”
“Gavin. Nice to meet you. Yeah, I want to get a wedding band tattooed on my ring finger.”
Beside me, Cora sucks in a sharp breath. No doubt she wasn’t expecting that. “Gavin, you don’t need to do that,” she says.
“I know, baby,” I tell her. “But I want the world to know I belong to you. And no one else. Always.”
Cora nods and doesn’t utter a sound. The tattoo artist, Autumn, guides us back to her booth and has me sit in the chair. Currently, Cora and I are the only patrons in the building. Not having people coming and going right now is nice and odd at the same time. When the gun sparks, Cora startles next to me. I reach out and she takes my hand.
Twenty minutes later, I stare down at the thick black band at the proximal end of my fourth finger. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as a thick boulder of emotion lodges in my throat.
“What do you think?” Autumn asks.
I clear my throat and croak out, “It’s perfect.”
Cora stares at me in awe and sheer amazement. Then her eyes flick to Autumn. “Have time for me?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure. Just fill out the paperwork and give me a moment to sanitize the station.”
Cora hops up and goes to the woman at the front. I amble behind her. “You don’t need to get ink unless you want to, baby.”
“I know. And I want to.”
I nod and watch as she fills out the consent form and provides her license. Ten minutes later, we are back in the booth and Cora is sitting in the chair. Her shirt is hiked up and rests on her bra. Thankfully, the only skin exposed is what anyone would see if she were in a bathing suit. Otherwise, I might have hovered over her worse than a parent of a teenager.
“You ready?” Autumn asks Cora.
She nods and takes my hand. When Autumn presses the pedal and the gun starts buzzing, Cora jumps a little. I draw circles with my thumb over her hand and try to soothe her nervousness. “It only hurts for a minute. Then it numbs a little from the vibration.”
The gun draws black lines on her skin just below her left breast. I sit mesmerized as Cora gets her first tattoo. It isn’t just the fact that this is her first tattoo, but what she decided to imprint her skin with. Autumn dips the gun in the ink then comes back to Cora’s ribcage.
When Autumn swipes some of the excess ink off, I squeeze Cora’s hand a little tighter. Cora peeks up at me, her smile brighter than the sunrise this morning.
“You okay?” she asks.
“I didn’t think this day could get any better. But I was definitely wrong.”
“Wait until you see what I do next.” Cora giggles.