Her Eyes

“Tattoos? You have got to be kidding me, Jordan.” He sighed, wishing that he hadn’t told Mason about his plan beforehand.

“You’re getting a tattoo. And so am I. And I’m choosing yours.” He said, putting on his turn signal.

“And let me guess, I’m choosing yours?” Jordan nodded, turning into a parking spot. “Wait. What? I was joking!” Mason yelled, staring hopelessly as Jordan unbuckled his seat belt, and opened the door.

He walked into the tattoo shop and started looking around, waiting for her to try and protest his decision, but it never came. She followed him willingly into the shop and took a seat in a chair by the window. Jordan walked up to the counter and beckoned the guy behind it.

“Hey. We’re here to get tattoos.” Jordan said, sticking out his hand. The guy chuckled, as if they would have come to a tattoo shop for anything else, but shook his hand anyways, asking what they both wanted. When Jordan said he didn’t know, though, the guy stopped smiling.

“Dude. Stop wasting my time.” Jordan leaned over the counter at the angry artist and spoke in a very low voice.

“You see that girl?” He gestured behind him, and he noticed the guy glance over at her before nodding. “That’s my girl. She has seven months to complete a list of things she needs to do before she dies. Number four is get a tattoo. I’m choosing hers, she’s choosing mine. I’m not full of shit man, I just want her to be happy.”

When his little speech was over, the tattoo artist gestured for Mason to come up to counter and decide what tattoo Jordan was getting, because ‘this fucker is going first.’ Mason giggled and thought for a second before leaning forward and whispering the tattoo in his ear. There was a lot of nodding and scratching as the tattoo was being drawn out, and before he knew it, Jordan was on his stomach on a table.

“You’re not going to tell me what it is before it goes on my body for the rest of my life?” Mason shook her head, assuring him that not only was the tattoo manly, but it was meaningful. To her, at least.

An hour later, Jordan was hoisting himself off the table to go look in the mirror. A series of lines and a small blue oval confused him.

“It symbolizes inner strength and a shield from negative energy. You may not realize it Jordan, but you’re so much stronger than you think you are. And you protect me. You keep me happy. You’re my shield.” It took Jordan everything he had to keep from crying. She didn’t realize how much it meant to him to hear her say that, because that’s all he wanted: to keep her happy.

After the short lived love fest, the artist cleared his throat and asked Jordan where Mason’s tattoo would be and what it was.

Mason positioned herself on her side on the table. She was instructed to raise her arm above her head and lay very still. The buzzing started, and Mason immediately felt Jordan’s hand grasp hers. She held her breath for what seemed like a second, and before she really understood what was happening, the tattoo was finished. The nervous flipping of her stomach got more and more intense as she walked over to the mirror and lifted her arm.

Tears coated her eyes, and she reached out to grab Jordan’s hand when she finally looked in the mirror. Written in delicate script on her ribs were the words “My body is not my soul.”

Notes