PAINTED MAN
"What does your tattoo mean?"
It was a simple enough question under most circumstances, but I found myself turning towards her in confusion. The sight of her bikini clad body gleaming in the sun almost made me forget why I had turned in the first place.
"What do you mean?" I managed to sputter through a sheepish smile that betrayed my hormonal embarrassment.
"The symbol on your shoulder; what does it represent?"
I reached towards my left shoulder, more confused than before. "The other one," she offered, clearly now as confused as I was.
She stood up, the ice cubes in her lemonade tinkling softly, strode over to me in three long, lean steps, and held up her phone. "Turn around," she instructed.
I did as she requested and heard the soft digital shutter effect of her phone's camera. She spun me around slowly, and showed me the photo.
"Is it Chinese for forgetful?" she asked playfully. "Or maybe Thai for I'm an idiot?"
She gave my shoulder a playful shove. I smiled back at her, doing my best to feign forgetfulness, although I am not at all forgetful. I remember the birthdays, anniversaries, and key moments in all my friends and families lives. I never miss an appointment.
"I'm pretty sure it's Japanese for dream," I replied. "I just thought it looked cool."
It did look kind of cool, but for the life of me, I had no recollection of getting the tattoo an getting a tattoo seems like something one would remember.
She had walked back to her chaise lounge and resumed her tanning. I let my eyes wander slowly along her coppery length, from her toes, right up to the halo of golden hair that framed her perfectly sculpted face.
Maybe it was a symbol for luck, I decided. Where it came from was a mystery, but if it was in any way linked to my current lot in life, I was fine with it being there.
Sometimes things are better left unexplained.
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