“Goddamn right you’re not.”
I lost her four years ago. I truly almost lost her 3 years ago. After putting her in a rehab center close to home, we were with her every day ‘til she finally came out of her come. It’s been a long road with rehab, counseling, even reconstructive surgery on her face due to so many broken facial bones, especially around her eye socket. Lots of healing had to be done, but we all did it together.
I never truly understood what Tank went through with Sis. I never understood the drinking, the pushing, the pulling, but I fucking get it now. It’s hard to swallow the idea of almost losing someone. For us it wasn’t an idea, it was a possibility; a reality. I watched her dying on me. I watched her fight for her life. I know exactly what he went through. That’s a sick fucking bond we now share.
Instead of medicating with alcohol and insanity, I live. Just being around Lala helps that shit. With her I can push that shit away. I can love her and that’s all the medication I need for that shit.
“Are you going to spend my birthday being a giant pain in my ass? Georgia is gone for the afternoon and I want to do something.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me. If she wants to fuck, she sure the fuck doesn’t have to ask me.
“Whatcha wanna do today, baby?” Peeking up at me with wicked eyes, she smirks. Fuck me, this should be good.
“I want another tattoo.”
“Fuck no.” That is never happening. Throwing her hands up, she glares at me. “It’s my birthday.” Right. It’s her birthday, but she’s not putting more ink on her skin. I own all of that perfect skin and she’s not doing shit to it.
“And that,” I tip my head at her body, “is my body, and I don’t want anyone touchin’ it or puttin’ shit on it.”
“You’re a pain in the ass.” I know I am, and I know she loves it.
“You already said that, Lala. Pick somethin’ else.” For a minute she doesn’t say anything and that could be bad, really fucking bad.
“I know what I want for my birthday.”
“Give it to me baby.”
“I want you to get another tattoo.”
Well, I wasn’t expecting that. Not the worst idea. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. I want ‘Lala & Georgia’ right across your forehead,” she laughs. That’s not going to fucking happen.
“Not on my face babe, but anywhere else, you name it and it’ll go there.”
“Really?” Really.
I’d give her and Georgia anything. There is not a goddamn thing I wouldn’t do for my family.
“Yeah. You want ‘Lala & Georgia’ tatted on me, baby?”
Nodding, she smiles, “Yep.”
“Alright, babe. Let’s go get you a birthday tat.” Standing up, I hold my hand out to her. Setting that small soft hand in mine, I pull her up and into me, “I love you, Lala.”
“I know you do, and I kinda love you too.”
The End.