"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live," she reads the quote. Tracing the curves like the image of a crystal ball, she continues “To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.”
I swallow the lump formed in my throat when I remember why I tattooed these words. "I was in a bad headspace when my brother… when I lost him. I locked myself in my room and read every book I had on my shelf. And those words just… I don't know, touched me I guess."
She hugs me, and even though my heart still hurts like the first day, her affection makes it easier to smile.
Her voice is just a whisper as she asks, “When did it happen?”
“Six years ago. But I haven't accepted it yet, I guess.” Even though I try to sound nonchalant, my voice sounds dark with my pain.
“Tell me about your brother,” she says softly.
"He was always so mature. He knew what he wanted from life before he even started high school. But he was also fun. Best memories I have are always with him," I stop when my voice cracks. Eva strokes my hair softly, and it eases the storm inside me. "He was my hero," I whisper.
"I wish I could meet him," she whispers, and I catch one teardrop escapes from her eyes.
“I wish the same, baby,” I whisper. “But I know he would love you. He would see how crazy you make me.”
She blushes and keeps caressing the Atlas that carries the Earth on my left pec, so she doesn't meet my eye. I take this opportunity to change the subject. "Are you done with your probing yet?" I ask with a chuckle to lighten up the moment.
She smiles. “Not even close.”
“It was not the thorn bending to the honeysuckles, but the honeysuckles embracing the thorn," she reads the quote written to form a rose on my arm. "Wuthering Heights," she murmurs and moves to the next.
“Her coming was my hope each day, her parting was my pain; the chance that did her steps delay was ice in every vein," she reads and doesn't say anything for a while. I watch her caressing the birdcage holding the words in.
"You're such a romantic," she finally says, and I laugh.
"This is such a clever idea," she muses, determined to touch every script tattooed on my flesh. The skulls, flowers, angels, and devils... She lifts and twists my arm from time to time to read every quote that scribbled into those random shapes. I chuckle at her interest.
“How did you come up with this idea?”
“I wanted to have just quotes, but I’d look like a walking book. So instead, I decided the things I want to have on my body, shapes everyone will see from afar and filled the insides with my favorite quotes.”
“That’s very clever!”
“Thank you,” I smile and kiss the crown of her head.
“The eagle behind your back is the same?”
I nod. She looks at me expectantly, and I sigh. "Do you want me to turn around."
She nods, and I shake my head as I lie on my front.
“It’s huge,” she breathes out.
I chuckle. “You’re so good for my ego.”
She hit my shoulder as a protest before straddling my back.
“Do you want me to be your pony?” I tease her.
But she shushes me, “Shh, I’m reading.”
“No amount of fire or freshness can challenge what a man will store up in his ghostly heart," she reads one of the lines tattooed on the eagle's wing. Her finger moves to the spine of the bird, grazing my spine at the same time and sending a shiver through my body. "I felt a haunting loneliness sometimes, and felt it in others — young clerks in the dusk, wasting the most poignant moments of night and life," she continues reading with her breathy voice and somehow, the quotes sound so much better than I remember. I feel him lean down on my back. "This is melancholic. I like it," she whispers to my ear.
Reaching back, I caress her leg. Her tits pressing on my back, her breath tickling my neck. The warmth of her body surrounding mine. Lifting myself on my elbows, I keep hold of her and turn my back to see her. “The Great Gatsby,” I finally say.
Her breathing gets faster when our bodies align just how they should be, but she clears her throat. “I haven’t read it. Why that one?”