Conversations With The Moon (Bruno Mars One-Shots)

The Girl With The Tattoo

I wake the collar jingling and panting. I roll over on my side and open my eyes a quarter of an inch. Big brown eyes, a pink tongue dangling from a furry black face and caramel colored eyebrows greet me with I nudge. 

"Good morning to you too G," I say giving him a good rub. He barks a reply and spins around in a circle. 

"I know, I know, I'm coming." I climb out of bed and push my feet in my slippers. I pull on a hoodie over my tee-shirt, put on Geronimo's leash and walk outside. I pull my door in and lock it with my key before the two of us make our way down the street. The early California air is slightly chillier than usual. The sun shines over head just beyond the tall palm trees that surround the community, in a way I'm glad that they're there; I haven't fully woken up just yet. I lead and G walks alongside me moving at my sleepy pace. He stops to sniff his usual areas, does his business and we walk back to the house. I pour out his food, check his water then go back to bed. I strip off the hoddie and fall back into the memory foam--1000 thread count comfort of my bed. I go to lie down on my left forearm with I see a large dark mark on it. I run my hand across the arm but the mark doesn't move at all. I try again but nothing happens. I rub my eyes clear and look at my forearm with awake eyes. 

"What the hell?" I whisper under my breath. I sit up in bed and turn on the lap stand on my side table. Leaning toward the light I take a better look at my arm. Only inch or so from my inner elbow is the tattoo of the side profile of a middle aged woman's face. Her hair is pinned up in curls accented with roses and there's an expensive looking dangling earring in her ear and a lace collar at the base of her neck. I have no recollection of this tattoo. I rub at the skin but it seems to be completely healed--it doesn't hurt one bit. I turn my arm examining the piece. She's beautiful. It must have been professionally done because of the amount of skill present but--suddenly a light bulb comes on in my mind.

"That story that Eric told me," I say under my breath. "But I thought it was a fable--a story you tell for entertainment--to get a rise out of people." I grab my phone and dial my older brother's number. As the dial tone rings the story comes back to me. 

"Everyone has a soulmate," he began. "but not everyone is able to find their soulmate in their first life. As a result many stumbled around in their lives with partners that were not their soulmates and had unhappy lives. On his 21st birthday a man decided to get a tattoo of his soulmate so that he even if he forgot her name he would remember her face. He figured even if he couldn't find her in the same life he would have some help the next time around. Because of him everyone after him had same idea; after a century of this the tattoos no longer had to be drawn on, they began appearing on the skin of both people. Not all the tattoo appear at 21 some appear before others appear later. A tattoo of each person's soulmate appears somewhere on their arms so when they would look it would make is easier to spot each other."

"There's no way that that's true," I said.

"You don't have to believe me but it is true, I've seen it," he insisted.

"Hello," Eric mummers into the receiver.

"It happened."

"What are you talking about?" he mumbles. I hear shift in bed in the background. 

"The tattoo thing," I reply. "I have a new tatt I don't remember getting."

"I told you it was real," he chuckles half asleep. "And you didn't believe me."

"It was a joke...I mean wasn't it?" 

"You thought it was and there's a new tattoo on your arm that you have no memory of." He pauses. "You tell me." 

"What was the part that tells you if your soulmate is near?"

"The tattoo tingles and look shiny." He yawns. "As much as I would like to tell about the legend, I'd like very to get back to sleep. Goodnight B."

"Its morning," I comment with a laugh. 

"It's still night to me," he says groggily. "Night." The line goes dead. I set my phone down and take another look at the tattoo. So this is what is she's supposed to look like... I take a shower, eat the head out to the meet and greet venue Brandon emailed to me on Tuesday. When I arrive, Phil is already there doing a sound check. He stops what he's doing and comes to greet me. Immediately he takes notice of my new tatt. 

"That's a nice one," he comments thumbing toward my left forearm. "Where did you get it done?"

"The same place," I offer to diffuse the attention. "Sound check?"

"Yeah, the were just about to ask for you actually." I walk up on stage, tune my guitar the do sound check. Afterward Phil and I take our seats on the stools provided and people start to flood into the small space. We open up samples of songs from the album then we take on requests and finally at the end autographs and pictures. Phil caps his Sharpie first and I follow. 

"You wanna grab something to eat?" he asks running tapping the marker on the table. He stands and adjust his clothing. 

"Sounds good." The two of us leave the venue and walk along the side walk scoping out bistros, cafes and other small eateries. We happen upon a bistro that provides made to order hot and cold sandwiches with an Italian flare. We walk inside, get a table and order our food. While we wait, I tell Phil about the legend of the soulmate tattoo and explain all the details. 

"So this is supposedly your soulmate and she has a tattoo of you somewhere on her arm?"

"That's how it works," I reply after a sip of water. "Its crazy." With in minutes of my speaking our food arrives and I catch a glimpse of the forearm of the girl serving us. Her eyes go wide at the exact time that mine do. Suddenly she drops the tray she was holding and darts out of the restaurant. I yell an apology to Phil and run after her. Using the tattoo as my guide, I search for her. The intensity of the tingling significantly increases as I near a movie theater 4 blocks from the bistro. I follow the source inside and when I can barely take the sensation anymore I see her. Out of reflex I grab her right forearm and look it over. It the exact area of her right arm where my tattoo appeared on my left she has a piece of gauze. 

"Let go of me!" She yells. I tug at the gauze. Despite the anger on her face, her eyes are innocent.

"It's you, I know it's you." I look up into her eyes and realize that I know her. We went to high school together, we were acquaintances. 

"I said let go!" She shoves me but still manage to hold on to her wrist. 

"Let me see it." I give the gauze one lat tug and it falls away. There's a large scare where the tattoo of my face should be. Our eyes meet and her eyes look like freshly fallen puddles against dark brown coloring. I let her go and step backward. 

"What did you do to it?"

"I had it removed," she replies. She blinks and the tears begin falling. 

"Why?" I ask in disbelief. "How could you do that?"

She doesn't answer me. She simply wipes her tears away and her face becomes stoic, nearly expressionless.

"But you're supposed to be her," I exclaim. "You're supposed to be my soulmate."

"I don't want you," she says flatly. A slight smirk appears at the left seam of her lips.

"I don't understand--what do you mean?" I ask rejecting her answer. 

"Are you hard of hearing or are you stupid?" She looks at me with dead emotionless eyes. I don't have a soulmate and even if I did, it wouldn't be you. I got the tatt removed for a reason. I could never love someone like you."

She turns drops the gauze and leaves the theater. Thought I don't know anything about her I can't help the stinging I feel in my heart. It feel as though a giant bandaid has been ripped from my skin with all the hair follicles stuck. I stand in the hallway attempting to catch the breath didn't know I was holding.