PULSE [H.S]

108

"Don't let the world make you hard. Don't let pain make you hate. Don't let the bitterness steal your sweetness." — Kurt Vonnegut

Clove came in for a tattoo this afternoon.

She texted me last week asking if I could give her another tattoo, and I had a cancellation at the last minute today. She was able to make it, and it worked out perfectly. She sits on my tattoo chair, making herself comfortable.

"Your snake is one of my favorite tattoos I've done," I tell her, and she beams at me.

She lifts up the sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal the red snake that wraps around her upper arm, and I admire it for a second. Something about red ink really just adds a touch of uniqueness to tattoos. I wish more people would take a risk and get the red ink.

Clove says, "It's my favorite tattoo on my body, Kiz."

I grab my sketchbook and some stencil supplies from the back so I can work out a design for her. She hasn't told me anything about what she wants, but she thankfully refused when Pen suggested she try her gum ball machine.

"What are we thinking of today?" I ask as I sit back down.

She says, "I was thinking about some Islamic text, on the back of my elbow, right here." She points to the area on the back of her arm, directly above her elbow. It's become an increasingly popular spot for tattoos recently.

"Sweet," I say, nodding. Text tattoos are one of the easiest to do, and I won't even have to sketch anything out. I say, "Is there a font you want?"

Clove scratches her arm—a nervous tick I've never seen her do before. She looks down at her lap, and I can see the emotions swirling in her eyes. It looks like something is weighing on her. She pulls out a piece of paper from her purse and unfolds it. I stay quiet as she looks at the paper on her own.

After a moment, she holds the paper out to me, and she says, "I was hoping you could replicate part of this letter for me, actually."

I cautiously take the paper from her, keeping my eyes on her cautiously, before looking down at it. It's all in Islamic, so I have no idea what any of the words mean, but I can make out that this is a letter. It clearly holds a lot of significance for her.

"We can do that," I nod. "Which part?"

Her eyes are filled with worry and a certain vulnerability I haven't seen in her yet. She's not as fun and playful as she usually is. She's a lot more timid and fidgety. I don't question her about any of it since it seems like an emotional thing for her.

She says, "Just this part."

She points to the last part of the letter, right before it's ended with a signature. I transfer it onto a stencil and get it sized exactly how she wants it. When she's happy with it, I get her arm ready for the tattoo.

Clove wants the tattoo on the opposite arm of the snake, which I think will look sick. Some people think that tattoos are pointless if you get them somewhere you can't see regularly. I think they're even more special when you can't see them all the time, because when you do see them, you really notice them.

"Do you want to know what it means?" she asks.

I say, "Only if you want to tell me."

She holds my gaze for a second and then says, "It's a letter from my mother. She passed when I was only a few years old, so I don't have any memory of her. She was sick for a long time, so she saw it coming. She wrote this letter for me, and Zayn held onto it until I turned 18."