Don't Forget
The Tattoo
“I’ll tell you the story of my tattoo and you tell me what’s been keeping you up at night.”
His tattoo. She never asked him. She always just accepted it with the rest of him. His name was Eric Santiago. He had jet black hair, a warm smile, strong arms, and a dragon tattoo. Maybe it was time she knew more about him.
“Ok,” Mia said.
“I came to America when I was ten years old. I don’t remember much from my childhood except being scared and hungry most of the time. I remember deciding that if I was going to die I was going to die trying to survive not sitting and wasting away. So I made my way to the border. It wasn't easy and as soon as I got close enough to get in a Coyote chased me down with his machete.”
“A what?”
“They’re these gangsters who swindle people trying to get to America.” Eric explained, “He cut me from here,” Eric pointed to his hip where the tattoo began, “To here,” he pointed to his shoulder. Mia put her hand to his shoulder where he pointed and she could feel the scar tissue, “It’s OK,” he said taking her hand and kissing it, “It doesn't hurt any more.”
“How did you escape?” Mia said. She couldn't manage to get her voice above a whisper.
“I can’t really remember to be honest.” Eric said, “I woke up in a hospital bed and Beatrice was there watching anime in my room on the TV. She said her family picked me up and that they were taking me home with them. She won’t admit to it, but I think she’s the one who found me and convinced her good Catholic parents to take me in.”
“That’s why you guys are so close.” Mia said.
Eric shrugged, “She saved my life.” He sat back against the headboard and Mia took this as her chance to curl into his lap, “Even though the the doctors fixed me up there was nothing they could do about the scar. It totally sucked. Beatrice’s parents said I could never take off my shirt because I was undocumented and they didn't want to draw the attention of the authorities. I got the tattoo to cover the scar and Beatrice’s parent freaked out, accused me of joining a gang, and kicked me out. They, of course, were just looking for an excuse. I was fine with it though. Parents are tiresome.”
“You can say that again.” Mia said thinking of all the lectures she had to sit through with her father.
“Anyway that’s the story,” Eric said, “Your turn.”
His tattoo. She never asked him. She always just accepted it with the rest of him. His name was Eric Santiago. He had jet black hair, a warm smile, strong arms, and a dragon tattoo. Maybe it was time she knew more about him.
“Ok,” Mia said.
“I came to America when I was ten years old. I don’t remember much from my childhood except being scared and hungry most of the time. I remember deciding that if I was going to die I was going to die trying to survive not sitting and wasting away. So I made my way to the border. It wasn't easy and as soon as I got close enough to get in a Coyote chased me down with his machete.”
“A what?”
“They’re these gangsters who swindle people trying to get to America.” Eric explained, “He cut me from here,” Eric pointed to his hip where the tattoo began, “To here,” he pointed to his shoulder. Mia put her hand to his shoulder where he pointed and she could feel the scar tissue, “It’s OK,” he said taking her hand and kissing it, “It doesn't hurt any more.”
“How did you escape?” Mia said. She couldn't manage to get her voice above a whisper.
“I can’t really remember to be honest.” Eric said, “I woke up in a hospital bed and Beatrice was there watching anime in my room on the TV. She said her family picked me up and that they were taking me home with them. She won’t admit to it, but I think she’s the one who found me and convinced her good Catholic parents to take me in.”
“That’s why you guys are so close.” Mia said.
Eric shrugged, “She saved my life.” He sat back against the headboard and Mia took this as her chance to curl into his lap, “Even though the the doctors fixed me up there was nothing they could do about the scar. It totally sucked. Beatrice’s parents said I could never take off my shirt because I was undocumented and they didn't want to draw the attention of the authorities. I got the tattoo to cover the scar and Beatrice’s parent freaked out, accused me of joining a gang, and kicked me out. They, of course, were just looking for an excuse. I was fine with it though. Parents are tiresome.”
“You can say that again.” Mia said thinking of all the lectures she had to sit through with her father.
“Anyway that’s the story,” Eric said, “Your turn.”