Beautiful Disaster

I twirled around, scrutinizing my reflection with a skeptical eye. It was white and backless, dangerously short, and the bodice was held up by a short string of rhinestones that formed a halter around my neck.

“Wow! Travis is going to piss himself when he sees you in that!” America said.

I rolled my eyes. “How romantic.”

“You’re getting that one. Don’t try anymore on, that’s the one,” she said, clapping with excitement.

“You don’t think it’ too short? Mariah Carey shows less skin.”

America shook her head. “I insist.”

I took a turn on the bench while America tried on one dress after another, more indecisive when it came to choosing one for herself. She settled on an extremely short, tight, flesh-colored number that left one of her shoulders bare.

We rode in her Honda to the apartment to find the Charger gone and Toto alone. America pulled out her phone and dialed, smiling when Shepley answered.

“Where’d you go, Baby?” She nodded and then looked at me. “Why would I be mad? What kind of surprise?” she said, wary. She looked at me again and then walked into Shepley’s bedroom, closing the door.

I rubbed Toto’s black pointy ears while America murmured in the bedroom. When she emerged, she tried to subdue the smile on her face.

“What are they up to now?” I asked.

“They’re on their way home. I’ll let Travis tell you,” she said, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh, God…what?” I asked.

“I just said I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise.”

I fidgeted with my hair and picked at my nails, unable to sit still while I waited for Travis to unveil his latest surprise. A birthday part, a puppy — I couldn’t imagine what could be next.

The loud engine of Shepley’s Charger announced their arrival. The boys laughed as they walked up the stairs.

“They’re in a good mood,” I said. “That’s a good sign.”

Shepley walked in first. “I just didn’t want you to think there was a reason that he got one and I didn’t.”

America stood up to greet her boyfriend, and threw her arms around him. “You’re so silly, Shep. Like I would get mad about that.”

“If I wanted an insane boyfriend, I’d date Travis,” America said, smiling as she tilted her head to kiss him.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel about you,” Shepley added.

Travis walked through the door with a square gauze bandage on his wrist. He smiled at me and then collapsed on the couch, resting his head on my lap.

I couldn’t look away from the bandage. “Okay…what did you do?”

Travis smiled and pulled me down to kiss him. I could feel the nervousness radiating from him. Outwardly he was smiling, but I had the distinct feeling he wasn’t sure how I would react to what he had done.

“I got a few things today.”

“Like what?” I asked, suspicious.

Travis laughed. “Calm down, Pidge. It’s nothing bad.”

“What happened to your wrist?” I said, pulling his hand up by his fingers.

A thunderous diesel motor pulled up outside and Travis hopped up from the couch, opening the door. “It’s about fucking time! I’ve been home for at least five minutes!” he said with a smile.

One man walked in backwards, carrying a plastic-covered grey sofa, followed by another man bringing in the rear. Shepley and Travis moved the couch — with me and Toto still on it — forward, and then the men sat the new one in its place. Travis pulled off the plastic and then lifted me in his arms, setting me on the soft cushions.

“You got a new one?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yep, and a couple of other things, too. Thanks guys,” he said as the movers lifted the old couch and left the way they came.

“There goes a lot of memories,” I smirked.

“None that I want to hold on to.” He sat beside me and sighed, watching me for a moment before he pulled off the tape that held the gauze on his arm. “Don’t freak out.”

My mind raced with what could be under that bandage. I imagined a burn, or stitches or something equally gruesome.

He pulled the bandage back and I gasped at the simple black script tattooed across the underside of his wrist, the skin around it red and shiny from the antibiotic he had smeared on. I shook my head in disbelief as I read the word.

Pigeon

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“You had my name tattooed on your wrist?” I said the words, but it didn’t sound like my voice. My mind was stretching in every direction, and yet I managed to speak in a calm, even tone.

“Yeah,” he said, kissing my cheek as I stared in disbelief at the permanent ink in his skin.

“I tried to talk him out of it, Abby. He hasn’t done anything crazy in awhile. I think he was having withdrawals,” Shepley said, shaking his head.

“What do you think?” Travis prompted.

“I don’t know what to think,” I said.

“You should have asked her first, Trav,” America said, shaking her head and covering her mouth with her fingers.

“Asked her what? If I could get a tattoo?” he frowned, turning to me. “I love you. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

I shifted nervously, “That’s permanent, Travis.”

“So are we,” he said, touching my cheek.

“Show her the rest,” Shepley said.

“The rest?” I said, looking down to his other wrist.

Travis stood, pulling up his shirt. His impressive six-pack stretched and tightened with the movement. Travis turned, and on his side was another fresh tattoo spanning the length of his ribs.

“What is that?” I asked, squinting at the vertical symbols.

“It’s Hebrew,” Travis smiled.

“What does it mean?”

“It says, ‘I belong to my beloved, and my beloved is mine.”

My eyes darted to his. “You weren’t happy with just one tattoo, you had to get two?”

“It’s something I always said I would do when I met The One. I met you…I went and got the tats.” His smile faded when he saw my expression. “You’re pissed, aren’t you?” he said, pulling his shirt down.

“I’m not mad. I’m just…it’s a little overwhelming.”

Shepley squeezed America to his side with one arm. “Get used to it now, Abby. Travis is impulsive and goes balls to the wall on everything. This’ll tide him over until he can get a ring on your finger.”

America’s eyebrows shot up, first to me, and then to Shepley. “What? They just started dating!”

“I…think I need a drink,” I said, walking into the kitchen.

Travis chuckled, watching me rifle through the cabinets. “He was kidding, Pidge.”

“I was?” Shepley asked.

“He wasn’t talking about anytime soon,” Travis hedged. He turned to Shepley and grumbled, “Thanks a lot, asshole.”

“Maybe you’ll quit talking about it, now,” Shepley grinned.

I poured a shot of whiskey into a glass and jerked my head back, swallowing it all at once. My face compressed as the liquid burned down my throat.

Travis gently wrapped his arms around my middle from behind. “I’m not proposing, Pidge. They’re tattoos.”

“I know,” I said, nodding my head as I poured another drink.

Travis pulled the bottle from my hand and twisted the cap on, shoving it back into the cabinet. When I didn’t