The Canvas

7- Ezra

 Charlie gets her lighter tattoo two days before the Sign. It was her only day off from the bookstore, besides New Years Eve and New Years, and she didn't know when she'd have time again, so she insisted. She's fiddling in the seat, watching as I prepare everything. "How long do you think this one will take?" I can tell she's a little nervous.

"30 minutes tops. I might be able to get it done in 20." She chose a simple skeleton design for the lighter, nothing too hard. "If you need a minute before we start, I can grab you a donut from next door." Florist on one side, donut shop on the other. We've got everything downtown.

"I'd rather just get it over with," she says. "It wasn't bad last time, it's just the wait that scares me. The anticipation kills." She's pulling at her fingers and I hear the sound of cracking knuckles. The sound continues when she rolls her neck and lets out the tension in her shoulders. Cracking her body has been her nervous habit since I've known her. In school, she put her hand on the back of her chair and twisted until the pops were released. Everyone in class was able to hear it but usually paid no mind. Sometimes when she was really nervous, especially during public speaking, she would crack just about every bone in her body. Some people would grimace in discomfort from the sound but it always brought her less anxiety, so I never mentioned it.

That, and biting her nails. I can always tell how she's doing based on the length of her fingernails. "We can take a break if you need it. Say the word and I'll stop." The needle hovers over the inside of her forearm. "Ready?"

She nods and turns her face to the side, looking at the wall to avoid the sight of the needle touching her skin. And she doesn't move the whole time. Her eyes stay trained on the empty space while I work to quickly finish the tattoo.

"How are you doing?" I ask about halfway through.

"Good." Eyes are still on the wall. Her voice is tight, and I know she just wants it to be over with, so I continue without any more exchanges. I've helped Charlie get over a lot of fears, this one will be conquered in no time.

The first was in elementary school, she was terrified of heights and refused to climb the stairs to go down the slide. I held her hand and we made progress everyday, taking it one step at a time until she got to the top. She forced me to ride down with her because she couldn't face it alone. And the next day she was running up the stairs, racing me to go down first.

When I'm done, I praise her for doing so well, "You sit like a rock Charlie. Another tattoo done on my favorite canvas."

I admire her bright smile while she looks down admiring the tattoo. "I love it!" She takes a picture. "I need to show Cat!" She wraps her non-tattoo arm around my neck and squeezes me tight to her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." I return the hug.

"I was less scared this time." It's the same thing she said after mastering heights. Soon enough, I had her swinging in trees and climbing mountains. She pulls back and I start the aftercare process.

"That's great Charlie. Soon enough you won't even think about it." I'm glad that I can help her slowly get over this fear. She wraps her arms around my torso, head falling to my chest. "Your hair smells good." It comes out way creepier than I intended it to.

She sets her hands on my waist and pulls back to look at me. There's a wide smile on her face, "My hair smells good?" It comes out as a laugh.

"Well yeah." My hands are rested on her shoulders. "It's different than usual."

"Yeah." She 's stopped laughing but the smile remains the focus on her face. "I got a new conditioner at the grocery store." Her hands fall from my waist and mine drop from her shoulders. "It's lavender scented; the bottle was broken so it was on sale."