“Did you design it?
“Yeah.” I know he’s not done with just that one word, but it takes him a little while to continue. “She can’t fly anymore, so I decided I would do it for her.”
“Tell me about it.” I sit up and click on the lamp next to the bed.
“Are you sure you want to hear this? I know you don’t have an issue with my past, but listening to me drone on about another woman is a different story. I know I wouldn’t be able to handle listening to you talk about someone else.”
“I’m sure. I love you. I want to know it all.”
He lets out a loud sigh but begins to talk. “Two months after she died, I decided to get her name done. I was in a bad place back then. She was gone, Brett and I weren’t speaking, and I was filled with anger and hate for…” He pauses for a second, but we both know who he was going to say. Thankfully he leaves it at that. “Anyway, I knew I wanted a blackbird, so I drew up the one on my chest and took in the very next day. The burn of that needle felt so fucking good. It reminded me that I was alive. I was walking through life emotionless and numb, and I began to crave that burn and all that it symbolized. The next month, I had entirely too many beers one night and sat down and started drawing on the back of an envelope. The first draft of my blackbird was born.”
I begin to inspect every curve of the dark black ink. I’ve seen it a million times, but as he talks, I feel like I’m looking at it for the very first time. This is the story of Caleb’s life those first two years after the accident, and it fascinates me. It’s a timeline of his grief and pain—so hauntingly dark yet beautiful.
“Where did you start?”
“On the sleeves. The tattoo artist laughed at me when I brought in that drawing. He never thought I would finish it. It took forever, but I was determined.” I trace my fingers over his shoulders and down his arms, causing goose bumps to pebble his skin. “I got fly free because I hope that’s what she is doing these days. She isn’t weighted down here on earth the way I am. She’s soaring, I’m sure. Manda never knew how to do anything else.”
A tear finds its way from my eye and drips onto his back. Like a bolt of lightning struck him, Caleb quickly rolls under me. I remain straddling his body, but it’s now his stomach instead of back.
“Don’t cry, Emmy. It was a really dark time for me. I’m okay now.”
“Roll back over! I don’t want you to see me cry.” I slap his chest to try to lighten the mood a little bit. The expressions of concern and heartbreak mingle on his face.
“Please stop,” he says tenderly, gently pushing my hair back behind my ears. I offer him a quick nod, but I continue my tattoo investigation on his chest.
“These are really amazing.” I trace my fingers over the blackbirds rising up his shoulder. “But I wasn’t done with your back.”
He lets out a groan but rolls back over underneath me. I lift my finger and glide it down his spine to the small of his back.
“Did you start with the head of the bird first?” I ask, curious about the various stages.
“No, we did the entire outline and the shading first, then filled it in one section at a time as the months passed.”
My fingers trace over the word stolen weaved into one of the patterns in the bird’s body. But before I have a chance to ask about it, he quickly stops me, “Don’t ask. You know the answer. My words will only be bitter.”
I know he thinks Sarah stole Manda from him, and that guts me, but if I want to make this work with Caleb, I have to bite my tongue. I say nothing, but my hands never stop roving over his back. Finally, I reach the head of the bird. The menacing green eye staring at me. Once again, anticipating my question, he answers.
“Manda had the most beautiful green eyes. I met her in a dark dance club, yet I can still remember her eyes from across the bar.”
“How long were y’all together?” I have to ask. I know the basic story, but I want to hear it from Caleb.
“Three years. Engaged for six months of that.”
I lean down and kiss the back of his neck just above where his tattoo starts. “When were y’all supposed to get married?”
“I don’t know.” His answer honestly surprises me, but judging by his rough voice, it’s not something he wants to talk about anymore.
Suddenly, Caleb rolls, flipping me to the bed beside him. I let out a scream, but seconds later, he has me pinned against the bed with his upper body.
“I told her about you today.” He leans in for a brief kiss.
“You told her?”
“Yeah. I stopped at her grave on the way home from the gym. I used to carry her wedding ring around with me. But, Emma, I love you. I want this to go somewhere with us, and that ring was a symbol of my past. I want you to be my future. So I left the ring with her where it belongs.”