Blank Space

by Francis Gideon

  "It's okay," Ernie said. "I know your anchor was your first. I can't tease you too much on that. You always remember the first, right?"

  Curtis nodded politely, and tried to not look over at Adrian. He kept his eyes fixated on Ernie in front of him, on the tattoos over his hands (a wolf's face with bared teeth) and over his knuckles (hard luck).

  "Did you get my designs?"

  Ernie nodded. "Sorry I didn't reply. It was such a nice surprise to see your name in my book again, I think everyone here just automatically assumed I'd take it. But I've been working pretty long on the piece. Give me a couple secs and I'll show you what I've come up with."

  Ernie gave a quick wave to Curtis and Adrian before he disappeared into the backroom. Ernie's station was at the far, far back—he used to joke that it was harder to hear the screams back there—and Curtis knew Ernie would fuss over his line drawing for a while before he reappeared. Trix, the receptionist Curtis had spoken to on the phone, gave them a small nod and offered to get them water before she too disappeared into the back.

  "Shall we sit?" Curtis said, gesturing to the free red pleather couch by the window. "He may be a while."

  "Sure."

  Adrian's eyes darted around the room. He bounced from the framed nautical flash pieces, to the Gothic ones, and the more traditional designs of swords and roses against the wall. One artist, a tall woman with fiery red hair named Bronwin, had a few of her paintings framed alongside the more traditional tattoo images. In one corner of the foyer was a mannequin, its face resembling a 1970s catalogue model with dusty blue eye shadow and wearing pseudo-leather bondage gear over its lanky body. Adrian remained quiet as he took all of this in, but Curtis saw the ghost of a smile on his lips.

  "How long has it been since you've gotten a tattoo?"

  "Oh, maybe four years? Maybe longer but not much longer?" Curtis answered. "I have so many now time kind of blurs."

  Adrian lifted his brows, surprised. "You guys sounded like old friends. Do you see him in between visits?"

  "Nah. But I've been coming here for almost ten years. You get pretty close after that long. Besides, I've also had my pants and shirt off around him more times than I can count. You get to know someone pretty closely, and fairly intimately like that."

  Adrian made a small noise in comprehension and picked up one of the large binders that contained old photos of people's tattoos. Curtis was pretty sure his shipwreck was in there, but he didn't mention it. When Adrian reached into the second book, and found the tattoo in his browsing, Curtis grinned widely and pointed.

  "That's me."

  "Hmm?"

  "The shipwreck. That's my back."

  Adrian glanced at Curtis, his eyebrows narrowed and back towards the drawing. Curtis's heart leapt into his throat at the way Adrian's fingers touched the photos edge. He hasn't seen it, Curtis realized. Of course Adrian had no idea it was there. It's been years since we saw one another naked. And now I'm a completely different person to him. Adrian seemed to have the same thoughts running through his mind as his fingers lingered over the outlined ink.

  "Neat."

  Curtis didn't know if Adrian's voice was stilted, or if the buzz of tattoo needles made it hard for him to hear. Adrian soon flipped the page, and gawked at a couple Led Zeppelin tattoos instead.

  "So what are you getting now?" Adrian asked after a moment.

  "Oh, right." Curtis had gone into such painstaking detail showing the design to Ernie, then Darcy, and even his daughters, he had forgotten to tell Adrian. "I'm getting a lot of stars. Constellations, mostly. It will look better than how I'm describing it now, I promise."

  "What constellations?"

  Before Curtis could answer, he spotted the shimmer of Ernie's necklace and rose to his feet. Ernie carried with him the wax paper-like design, see through and transparent. Curtis could already tell just how big the design would end up and his body tensed in fear and excitement.

  "I can shrink this," Ernie stated. "But right now, I like how big this design is. Considering how much black I'll use on your leg, though, you may want it smaller so you can give yourself a break, but it's your call. I've gone away from most of your designs before—you were way into line work—and this is more about negative space."

  "Negative space?" Adrian asked. He appeared by Curtis's side, his eyes wide and excited as he examined the piece.

  "Yeah. It's used a lot more in tattooing since we have kind of limited resources and often need to work around someone's pain threshold. Not that Curtis has a low threshold." Ernie clapped Curtis on the shoulder and gave him a wink. He gestured towards the dark space of the sky design, and around the stars. "Instead of me outlining the stars, I'm just going to fill in the sky. So it will appear more realistic and less like flash. Not that I don't love flash, it just seemed like you wanted something more organic with this piece?"

  Adrian and Curtis nodded, their eyes following along the tattoo design. The stars were set against a black sky in a v-formation that had a cluster at one end. The stars themselves looked rather dull, really, almost boring. But the way Ernie had shaded the dark night sky made the tattoo look as if it was three dimensional. As if the stars themselves could reach out and touch the person looking at them. Curtis—and even Adrian—had to hold their hands distinctly at their sides to keep from touching the wax paper prototype.

  "So often when people come in wanting stars, they think nautical stars. But for someone who has never actually been out to sea, I wanted to steer away from that meaning with Curtis. He has enough about boats on him." Ernie laughed. "I hope that's cool with you. You also said in your email that this piece was really important, so I hoped the softer edge away from line work would appeal."

  Curtis took a deep breath in. He smiled as he looked up at Ernie. "No, man. This is perfect. Thank you."

  "Great!" Ernie said. "Just let me get the stencil ready, and we can get you in the chair. Your friend can come along, too. So long as you're not afraid of needles, buddy?"

  Adrian laughed and waved his hand in a fifty-fifty gesture. "A little, but as long as they're not going in me, I'm good."

  Curtis shook himself out of his daze for a moment. "Where are my manners? I'm sorry—

  "Ernie this is Adrian, a friend from university, and Adrian, this is Ernie."

  They shook hands briefly before Ernie disappeared again. Though Curtis knew it wouldn't be long, he flopped down on the couch again.

  "That's... nice," Adrian said. "I liked the design. Where is it going?"

  Curtis laughed. "My thigh. It's... one of the only places big enough. And I figured I could always get the accompanying star piece on my other leg."

  Adrian nodded vaguely. This will be the first time he's seen me without pants since our university days. Curtis suddenly wanted to take all of his clothing off, show Adrian every inch of his new skin.

  "So," Adrian asked, knocking Curtis out of his thoughts. "Why the stars? What constellation is that?"

  "It's Pisces," Curtis answered. "For Darcy."

  "Ah," Adrian said and that was all he said for some time. There were no questions about what the accompanying star sign would be, no quibbles about getting something that could so easily be torn apart on his skin forever. Curtis knew all the faux pas about getting a spouse's name. He had heard a lecture from all of his tattoo artists, except for Ernie. He was one of the only people who did endorse couple's tattoos. Sometimes, you just gotta show the world you're in love, he had said during one tattooing session. I don't refuse couples' names. I will refuse Live Love Laugh, though. Curtis wouldn't regret this tattoo. They had been together for such a long, long time. Another part of Curtis wondered if he clung onto her name and her stars in the sky, just so he didn't have to look anywhere else. If it's on my body, if she's always there, I really could touch the sky.

  "You ready, Curtis?" Ernie asked. He stuck his head out, bit his lip excitedly.

  "Be right there." Curtis rose from his seat after Ernie was gone. When he glanced
at Adrian, he thought he saw a frown cross his face. "You ready? I know you're just watching, but if you're going to be squeamish..."

  "No," Adrian said, rising alongside. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Curtis didn't realize how awkward thigh tattoos really were. He wore tight fitting boxers—the kind that gripped his legs—but he still had to roll them up significantly if he didn't want to stain them with the ink run off. Ernie didn't mind getting super close; as soon as he put tattoo needle to skin, he pretty much lost himself in his design for a while. Adrian sat across from Curtis on one of the antique looking couches along the side wall of the tattoo booth. There was a pile of tattoo magazines next to him, including a book of unfortunate tattoos compiled over the years (like Patrick Swayze riding a unicorn), which he looked at for a little while. But mostly, Adrian kept his eyes fixated on Curtis and Curtis's leg. After the first hour, when most of the limited line work was done, Ernie pushed back on his stool with a sigh.

  "Shouldn't be too much longer," he said. He put the tattoo gun down on the contractible desk close by, making sure it stayed on the plastic covering. "I'm going to head outside for a break, if that's okay? My eyes are becoming more crossed in my old age."

  "That's fine," Curtis said. His skin felt raw enough on the inside of his thighs that a break sounded good. The rest of his body felt good though—great, even. One of the main reasons he got tattoos, especially when he was younger, was the endorphins they released. It was hard to be sad when your body was pulsing happy chemicals into you. Curtis used to tell most people he got certain designs because tattoos captured memories—like the sun on his inner arm from a children's book represented his mother and his childhood. For the most part, tattoos really did work at bookmarking and cataloguing moments for Curtis. But more often than not, Curtis remembered the euphoria after the needle more than the actual event itself.

  "Do you want to come outside too?" Ernie asked. "For a smoke? We can find a way to cover your leg if you want..."

  "Nah, it's okay." Curtis waved his hands. "I quit smoking ages ago."

  "No fun. Look at you with your healthy lungs." Ernie put a cigarette between his lips and turned to Adrian. "And you?"

  Adrian shook his head. "Never even began."

  "Well, I'll leave you two alone for a while." Ernie gave Curtis a quick wink, before he disappeared around the corner. Curtis's face flushed, but he was also pretty sure his cheeks were pretty pink already.

  "How's it going?" Adrian asked, biting his lip. "Looks painful."

  "It is. But it's also pretty good."

  Adrian grinned. "Had no idea you were into pain."

  Curtis's usual desire at Adrian's vaguely flirtatious lines suddenly turned into a flare of anger. Probably just the rawness of your leg, he told himself. But the anger niggled at him. "Pain helps me remember."

  "Does it?"

  "Yeah. Endorphins help with that, too."

  "I hear that. It's like the pit at a show—the pushing and pulling, sometimes even fist fights that break out. Hell, that's why everyone went to Fight Club, right? It sometimes feels good to be strung out on pain for a while. Like the world is more and less real at the same time."

  Curtis tilted his head. "Yeah, that's exactly it. You ever think of getting a tattoo?"

  Adrian shook his head. "Nah."

  "Afraid?"

  "No. I think I'd like it."

  "You certainly have the sensation down pat."

  Adrian smiled weakly. "I think I'm more afraid of starting. Because I don't think I'll be able to stop."

  Curtis swallowed. He looked down at his leg. Though this thigh—the right one—was unmarked up until the Pisces tattoo, his shins and ankles were not clear. There was a pirate carrying a black flag on his left shin, mostly line work, done like a more modern scrimshaw and a tattoo of crossed fingers on the back of his leg. He had taken the motif of one of the Pixies album—the odd square designs from the background of Doolittle—and reconfigured them for the back of his other leg. Over his knee, he had gotten a really corny flash-driven design for The Day of The Dead skull. And of course, there was the anchor that had started it all, almost small and hidden from view, just over the sock line.

  "I know what you mean about not being able to stop," Curtis said.

  "Uh-huh." Adrian eyes still lingered over Curtis's legs, eyeing each one, as if catching up for lost time. He didn't ask about the stories behind each piece. Curtis would have told him all of them, without leaving out a single detail. But Adrian didn't seem to want to know, or he filled in the blanks of his mind. Maybe, once we start confessing stories, we won't be able to stop.

  "How's the pain on this one compare?" Adrian asked. "Better or worse than the other places?"

  "It's tough. It pinches a lot as Ernie gets closer to, you know."

  "Can I... Can I come closer to see?"

  "Yeah, of course." Curtis shifted on the tattoo seat, swinging his legs open more. He hissed slightly at the sharp pain of his skin. Can't move like that, he chastised himself. It's still an open wound. He didn't move anymore, but stayed positioned as he was. Adrian approached, moving in between Curtis's legs as he looked over the stars Ernie had just begun blacking out around. Adrian smiled suddenly, and Curtis's heart beat faster.

  "What? What do you see?"

  "On the stencil," Adrian said, pointing delicately without touching Curtis's skin. "The shading around the stars... I think I can see the fish. You know, Pisces."

  As Curtis looked down, he realized how precariously close he was to Adrian; how their bodies' heat spread back and forth, and their breath hit one another's faces. Curtis already felt vaguely high from the pain, like he did after those early hardcore shows. He wanted to reach out and touch Adrian, to hold his hands, to just touch him again. To feel something. He had felt Ernie's fingers go over his inner thing again and again; he had already felt the pleasure mixed with pain. But Curtis still wanted so much more than that.

  "Yeah," Curtis said, once he noticed the outlines in the stencil. "I see it too."

  Adrian's eyes met his own. Curtis bit his lip, about to say something else—what he wasn't even sure—when he heard the squeaks of Ernie's sneakers. Adrian straightened his back right away and moved out of the V of Curtis's legs as Ernie turned around the corner.

  "Ready to move on?" Ernie asked.

  "Uh—yeah. Sure," Curtis answered. Adrian took another sudden step back and sat on the couch, quickly pulling a magazine out from the pile and glancing through it. Ernie's gaze bounced between them, before he walked over to his work station.

  "How about some music?" he asked. With only a murmur and a nod for approval, he pulled out a neon coloured CD case. Curtis knew it was the Buzzcocks before he even put it on. When the familiar punk beats blasted out of the speakers, and mixed with the buzzing sound of the tattoo gun, Curtis felt better. Ernie slid into place again, and started up the darker shades.

  "Only about another hour or two," Ernie said. "Not too long."

  Curtis nodded. With the music behind him, he slipped back into a zone. When he glanced up, Adrian had begun to watch the work taking place again, the tattoo magazine discarded.

  "Who did you say this was for again?" Ernie asked.

  "My wife. She's a Pisces."

  "Ah, yes. Sometimes, you just gotta show the world you're in love. You know, beyond the ring and the vows and whatnot."

  Curtis nodded in agreement. The tattoo was almost over, and he wanted to ride out the feeling. As the song changed from "What Do I Get?" and moved into "Why Can't I Touch It?" Curtis looked up and saw Adrian's eyes fixated on his thigh again, mouthing some of the lyrics in perfect pace. Curtis smiled and closed his eyes again.

  *~*~*

  "So, what do you think?"

  Curtis stood up with the help of Ernie's hand. He turned toward Adrian, who was back on the small couch. He lifted his gaze from the bad tattoo book and nodded to Curtis, his eyes not lingering much on his sk
in at all anymore.

  "I like it."

  "Good," Ernie said. "But you're happy with it, too, Curtis?"

  "Oh, yeah, definitely." Curtis could see the fish inside the constellation now and how the stars seemed to jump out, but also how they could completely fade into the background as well. The stars were just small patches of his skin next to the black ink all around. It was probably one of the simplest designs he'd ever gotten, but it had turned out beautifully.

  "Good," Ernie said, brushing his hands off on some paper towel. "I like tattooing you—but I do hope you will leave some line drawings behind now. Or else I'll go blind tattooing you."

  Curtis laughed and Ernie moved to bandage up Curtis's leg. He didn't bother repeating his aftercare spiel, because he knew Curtis had heard it all before. After, Ernie left the two of them alone to go for another smoke and so Curtis could get dressed. He had to limp slightly as he tried to put on his jeans over the gauze on his leg.

  "Do you want me to leave?" Adrian asked, worrying his hands together.

  "No. Stay. I actually need to hold on to you for balance."

  Adrian moved next to Curtis easily, and allowed him to use his shoulders. An excited chill passed between them, along with an almost electric heat under his own skin as he did his pants up. Thank God he hadn't gotten hard during the tattoo. Though there was an uncomfortable likelihood it would now.

  "We... we should go for coffee," Curtis suggested.

  "Yeah? You're not too tired?"

  "No, I get pretty wired after tattoos, actually. I want this high to last—so coffee seems like the next best bet."

  Adrian nodded, seeming to understand. Curtis struggled to remember whether or not, after the anchor tattoo, they had blown one another. Probably, he thought. Sex was always so, so much better after a tattoo. The few hours afterward lingered and drew out the excitement.