My Tattooed Wings Will Carry Me up to Heaven

When I was little, my mother always told me that the angels had wings so that they could fly up to heaven. But without them, they’d forever stay a ghost, walking the earth alone. So when I was about 9, I’d told my mother that I would get wings somehow, just to ensure that I make it up to heaven.

“And how do you plan to do that?” She had asked, and I know now she was just trying to humor my little mind.

“I’m not sure yet.” I replied, staring up at her with big blue eyes.

“I think you’ll be fine without them, as long as you behave.” She told me.

The words echoed softly in my mind to this day.

“Of course I’ll behave!” I nearly shouted, indignant at my mother.

“Then you won’t have to worry.” She said, stroking my soft blonde hair.

And now, here I sit, at a bar with my friends.

“Steph.” My best friend, Serena slurs drunkenly. “I wanna get my tongue pierced.”

“That sound like an amazing idea.” I slur, equally as drunk.

“I hear the guys like it.” My other friend, Fiona says with a wink.

“I just want one ‘cause Josh Ramsay has one.” Serena explains. “He so hot.”

“Who?” Fiona and I ask simultaneously.

“The lead singer of Marianas Trench.” She says, rolling her eyes. “Duh.”

Serena is obsessed with this Canadian band called Marianas Trench. No one has heard of them, but she talks about them all the time.

“Let’s go.” Fiona says, tugging on each of our hands. “I want to get a tattoo.”

“Me too!” I exclaim. “I just don’t know what of.”

“You can figure it out when we get there.” Serena says standing up, and bringing me with her. We both wobble upon standing and steady ourselves before walking out of the bar, our heeled feet clicking against the tiled floor.

“Follow me.” Fiona giggles. “I know the way.”

***

“And what do you want a tattoo of?” The butch tattoo artist asks me.

I look at the samples carefully, knowing my tattoo will be there forever. Once my eyes land on a picture of wings, I know immediately that’s what I want.

“I want that.” I slur, poking at the picture. “On my back, like real wings, too.” I add.

“Are you sure?” He asks cocking an eyebrow.

“Positive.” I say, laying down across the table and hiking my shirt up.

I feel the needle in my skin a few minutes later. I grind my teeth together to hold back my cries of pain.

Soon Serena enters my line of vision, sticking her tongue out. I laugh when I see the metal ball in it.

“What tattoo are you getting?” Fiona asks, coming to stand next to Serena.

“Wings.” I reply.

“Why?” Serena asks.

“So I can make it up to heaven.”