Archive of Our Own

 "Hell no."

The restaurant is quiet, the food is delicious and despite this pleasant start to our evening it appears that all my cousin Jackie can think of is ways to stress me out.

 "Why? Worried Prince Charming is going to freak out when he wakes up with an infinity sign on his wrist?"

"As if I'd get something that tacky."

I take another sip of my overpriced martini and roll my eyes at my cousin. She's already tipsy, her face flushed. It's her thirtieth birthday and she insisted on a birthday dinner just the two of us.

I have her big party planned for next week, of course. She's a popular woman; beautiful and effortlessly charming. But birthday dinners are always just the two of us, as has been the tradition since she lost her parents in a car crash at nineteen.

"Please?" she says pulling at my arm from across the table, almost upsetting her half full wineglass.

"Not a fucking chance."

Jackie gives a long sigh before grabbing another breadstick from the table. She leans back, looking thoughtful. 

"Our soulmates haven't given us much to work with, have they? No tattoos, no scars."

I'm surprised by this conversation change. I didn't think Jackie still went for this cheesy soulmate scar nonsense. 

"You don't still believe in that, do you?"

"Sure I do." She takes a nibble from her breadstick looking contemplative. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because they don't exist, Jack," I mumble. 

"Sure they do."

I don't know how to tell my little cousin that I really don't believe in this soulmate-scar-shit. So many people I know have debunked it by marrying people without matching scars and have gone on to live long and happy married lives with their partners. 

Besides, I'm thirty three years old and I don't have a scar or tattoo to speak of. Not from me or from someone else. Neither does Jackie for that matter. 

"If they do mine's probably dead," I quip, realizing too late that this was the wrong thing to say. Jackie's beautiful face falls. 

"Don't say that," she says, blue eyes landing on her wine glass. "The universe will hear."

I exhale sharply, wishing that this topic had never been brought up. Still, I feel like I have to close this out on a positive. 

"So why haven't you covered yourself in tattoos to find your dream man?" 

"At my bank job? Yeah right. We can't even dye our hair there. Besides I never really wanted to settle down before." 

"But you do now?"

"Yeah." 

I nod, not mocking her. After everything my cousin has been through with her parents, there's no way I'm going to tease her about starting a family of her own. 

"Joel? I need you to come pick me up.”

“Don't tell me you're calling from jail again."

"No no, not this time," a deep voice says through the crackle of the phone line. "Just at my Frank’s and I drank too much. I need a ride home." 

"You ever heard of a taxi?"

The man gives an embarrassed chuckle. "I'm kinda out of cash until next payday." 

Joel closes his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose on exasperation. It's Friday night and it's been a long week. After spending most of the evening working on financials for the business he was looking forward to unwinding with a beer while he watched an old action flick. 

"Tommy, I don't charge you rent, you raid my fridge and you work full time. Tell me how you've already blown through your paycheck." 

"Well, we were playing poker tonight and uh..."

Joel's younger brother trails off and he can only lean his head back on the couch, looking skyward. 

"I should just leave you there to sleep it off on Frank's couch."

"Bill made it very clear that's not an option," Tommy replies quietly. "Plus I don't exactly want to spend more time here considering I'm flat broke."

Joel's shoulders rise slowly, eyes flitting around his quiet home. Calm before the storm. 

It's always been like this, Joel having to take the helm. As the older brother he's always had to take care of Tommy. Having a dead mom and a drunken father growing up meant that Joel was always the responsible one.

It got exhausting, especially because Joel would have loved to be the irresponsible one for a change. He would have loved to have times like Tommy where he went out and got drunk, partying until all hours of the morning. Getting into fist fights and brawls in bars, taking home different women whenever he wanted. 

But Joel had always been the responsible older brother, and at forty two years old that wasn't going to change. 

"Send me the address." 

We've moved onto a trendy bar now, music thumping and bodies knocking into ours. We're both flushed, eyes glassy. Jackie clamps onto my arm as we grab another drink, her warm, alcohol-tinted breath on my cheek. 

"Maybe you were right. Maybe my soul mate is dead." 

My stomach sinks. "Don't say that." 

Fuck, I feel guilty having said what I did earlier. Knowing that Jackie grew up without parents means that she has a different perspective on love and forever. I have to remember that. 

"I mean, I don't have any tattoos or scars either," she shrugs, looking at her toned arms in her dress. "It would make sense."

I try to direct her attention to something different. A cute guy across the bar that's been giving her the eye for the last hour or so. He's got nice hair and looks great in his glasses. 

"That guy's cute," I say, giving her an encouraging grin and a light tap to her elbow with mine. She turns slightly, pretending to look at a group by the bathrooms before turning back. 

"He's not for me. He had an anchor tattoo on his wrist. I saw it when he was drinking his beer." 

I bite my tongue but this is exactly why I think the whole soulmate scar thing is ridiculous. A perfectly fine guy is sitting right there and Jackie won't even giving him the time of day because of a tattoo? Ridiculous. 

My parents don't have the scars and they've been happily married for thirty five years. I order us another round, the two of us clinking glasses and downing it. Followed by birthday shots. Maybe I can distract her with some dancing.

I've never been a particularly good dancer, but Jackie is so gorgeous it doesn't matter, all attention is on her. By the time the clock strikes one am we're both sweaty and giggling. 

"C'mon," Jackie begs as we head for the exit, "I really wanna get matching tattoos tonight! Please? It's my birthday!"

I can't deny her. Not when her pretty face is screwed up into that adorable pout. The same one she's been using on me since we were kids. The one that always gets me to cave. I shoot a lopsided smile her way, well into drunk myself. 

"Yeah, okay." 

Joel drives through the night, shaking his head as a drunken Tommy nods along to CCR on the crackling radio. 

"This is the last fuckin’ time, Tom."

Tommy is completely shit-faced as he looks out the open passenger window. His glossy black curls fan out as he hangs his head out. 

"Why in the hell do you not have any money for an Uber?" Joel continues. "Or a taxi?"

"Spent it. Tried to win some of it back at poker tonight but you know Frank. He's good. Plus I had to pay up front." 

Joel has one arm on the window ledge, one hand on the wheel. The wind tousles his own dark brown waves as the mellow summer night kisses his cheeks. 

"I know Frank and he's not normally such a tightass." 

"Well, I mean, I still owe him some," Tommy mumbles, eyes starting to shutter, "from before."

Joel grits his molars so tightly they could crush into powder. 

"How much do you owe him?"

"Couple hundred."

"Jesus, Tommy." 

"I know, I know." 

Tommy has grown comfortable in Joel's old truck, his breathing turning drowsy and slow. Joel knows he's not going to get anything more out of him tonight.  

He comes to a stop sign a short while later, giving a low sigh and drumming his fingers along his steering wheel. Two women cross in front of him, laughing loudly. Joel's eyes follow the women who appear rather tipsy. Seems like everyone is having a good time tonight. Everyone but Joel. 

He keeps watching as they take their time crossing the street, arms over one another's shoulders. They look like school chums weaving through a playground. However they're walking too slow and Joel is irritable and exhausted from the late hour. He honks his horn to urge them along, a shrill beep startling them. 

The one with big blue eyes gives a shriek of surprise while the other one scowls and gives him the finger. His eyes connect with hers and for a moment something goes up his spine. A tingling that he attributes to anger at her behavior. It makes his body flame all over. 

He returns her rude gesture, not surprised when she uses her other hand to flip him the bird twice. 

"Fuck you!"

Joel is taken aback by her vitriol, and then strangely amused at how she tries to march away with dignity even though she's staggering across the street with her friend.  

Tommy looks over when he hears his brother chuckle. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Joel mutters, putting the truck into drive. "Go back to sleep." 

Jackie is like a little sister to me, I feel fiercely protective over her. I only want what's good for her. This also means that when it comes to her I'm like an indulgent parent who gives in to her requests because at the end of the day, Jackie knows I'll give her anything I can. 

But still, as I stand in front of the tattoo shop with her at my arm I feel the first niggle of anxiety. 

"I don't know, Jack..." 

After the run in with that prick in the truck I'm feeling out of sorts. Anxious, irritated, angry. Still drunk. 

"You promised!" Jackie defends, pulling my wrist and dragging me along with her. I go after her, flinching as we step into the dark tattoo parlor. 

It's empty, save for the young woman with neon pink hair and thick eyeliner standing behind the front desk on her phone. She's wearing a black tank top and jeans, her arms are covered in bright tattoos as well as her neck. Large gold hoops go up her earlobes. 

When we walk in she doesn't smile, only looks at us with narrowed eyes as she pockets her phone. 

"Can I help you?"

"Hi. One tattoo please," Jackie says with a cheerful giggle as we come to stop in front of her. She motions towards me. "Her too." 

This doesn't exactly feel like a reputable place. I wonder if everything is sterilized properly. The girl behind the counter scans our bleary eyes. 

"You two drunk?"

"Probably," I answer honestly, hoping that means she won't tattoo us. She looks both of us up and down face screwing up into a look of contemplation. 

"You don't look like wrigglers. Here's the price list and here's some tattoo suggestions." 

She passes over a large book full of designs. 

"I'm only open another hour so pick something small." 

Jackie eagerly rips the book open, flipping through pages with an excited giggle, hopping from foot to foot. 

"I wish I could get a bunch of them but I know work would never go for it," Jackie sighs. 

After only a few moments of deliberation she decides on a bag with a dollar sign between her thumb and forefinger. 

"Because I love Monopoly," she slurs. It's been her favorite game since we were kids, and the bane of my existence since then. Despite my own drunkenness I gently urge her to reconsider. 

"You work at a bank," I mutter. "I don't think they'd love that."

"Oh right," she nods, lips pressed together in thought. "Maybe not."

I look at our tattoo artist who is hanging out, scrolling on her phone, darting looks our way every so often as we debate. I'm sober enough to know we need to pick somewhere hidden, somewhere only we'll know it exists for our tattoos.  

"Maybe lower back? Shoulder?"

"Nah."

"Inner arm?"

She scrunches up her face. "Everyone has tattoos there. Plus," she adds, "I want to be able to see if my soul mate has it."

Of course. 

"How about... Behind our ears?” I slur, feeling inspired. “It’s subtle, but obvious if you know where to look for it."

"I love that!" She says, eyes shining. She gives me an excited hug before flipping through the pages quickly. "What should we get?"

It's late and I'm tired so I point at the first thing I see on the glossy page. 

"That."