Page 4 of A Bittersweet Summer

And so, when Ryan sent over the sketches, it hadn’t taken me long to decide what I wanted.

“That should be easy, considering how dense the middle will be,” Ryan says. “Should cover that name right up. And listen, Cass…” His head tilts to the side as if he’s considering how his next words will land. “You’re not the first person to get a tattoo of someone’s name, and certainly not the last who has to scurry in to get it covered up. You’re in good company.”

A laugh chases my breathy exhale—halfhearted and unsure. “Right,” I say. “Happens all the time.”

“Last week, in fact.” Ryan’s reassuring presence helps assuage some of my embarrassment.

Though the tattoo isn’t quite as embarrassing as the relationship.

Chad had a charismatic way of existing and a good job—a stable job that provided financially in a way I craved. It’s not to say I’m materialistic, nor am I particularly wooed by extravagant cars or watches. It’s a simple fact that my childhood left me wanting. I have one brother, August, and his birth was the best thing to ever happen to my seven-year-old self.

Mom and Dad wanted a second child for so long. I remember whispered conversations I didn’t fully understand about months gone by, uncertainty, and the undercurrent of repeated devastation.

When Gus came into existence, it felt as if our entire family shuffled into place like a lucky deck of cards. For five years, that was the case. Until our luck ran out when Gus got sick.

It would be easier if I could give one singular name to what Gus has—easier in terms of explaining his condition to curious friends or even strangers. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Gus is formed with equal parts utter joy and malfunctioning organs.

The summer I turned twelve, our family slowly started tearing at the seams like the rip forming in the armpit of your favorite shirt. My parents were drowning in medical bills and disagreements about how to handle them. We traded our house for a small apartment, and the smaller space did nothing to foster a closeness among us.

Caught between scaling back to pay for prescriptions and the life my parents had always dreamed of giving us kids, I took it upon myself to find whatever it was they thought we were missing. I didn’t want Gus to think it was his fault—I’ve never wanted him to believe that. And so I powered through—brought the sunshine and positivity for all of us. It didn’t keep my parents married, but I have to believe it didsomething.

I tried to be just as bright as the sunflower maze—full of vibrant color.

When Chad walked into my life, mostly by accident, I basked in all that attention directed at me. I’d been put on the back burner for so long, I hadn’t realized how desperate I’d become for what felt like love.

With every date that followed, I’d been blinded by his attentiveness and the confidence he carried. Chad was so sure of things, and if he wasn’t, he had this certainty that it would all work out.

Maybe it was the confidence of a man who could pay for his problems to go away.

It had been a dream.

Until he cheated.

“Alright,” Ryan says, breaking me from my thoughts. “Let’s get this placement right, and you can tell me if you want any adjustments.”

My rain jacket sits discarded on the chair in the corner, leaving me in the soft brown sweater I peel up to beneath my breast.

Ryan preps the area and squints as he holds the stencil paper over my ribcage, adjusting the angle in small increments until he is satisfied and presses it to my skin.

I check the mirror, ready for the stain to be gone, and confirm my approval.

A lulling buzz followed by the sharp pinch of a needle, and I can already feel my muscles stiffen with anticipation. I’ll be lying down for a while, so I might as well make conversation.

“I got a new job,” I begin, and Ryan’s dark brows raise.

“Yeah?”

My nose scrunches. “Well… I think I do. I honestly thought it would be a harder interview process, but it turns out the guy’s only requirement was that I didn’t hold a criminal record.”

The sting on my side pauses as Ryan looks up from his work. I bask in the smile he throws me. “Must have lied about your lengthy history of vandalism, I take it.”

We both chuckle, and I remain still as the tattooing continues. Despite this piece being a bit more complicated, it doesn’t sting as much as the first time. Either I got used to it, or it’s a sign from the universe. “That was one time, and I didn’t realize chalk markers were prohibited.”

Ryan shakes his head, locs brushing against his shoulders. “Still the funniest story I’ve heard yet.”

“How’s Wyatt?” I ask, turning the attention back to him.

“Now, now. Wyatt is great. We are madly in love, but tell me more about this mysterious job of yours. What will you be doing?”