I should’ve told you.”
“Yes.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Gerald looked down. “Because I felt ashamed.”
“Of what?”
He sat at the kitchen table. I stayed standing.
“Nathaniel was your best friend.”
“I know.”
“You’re allowed to miss him.”
“That’s what I told myself.”
Something in his answer made me sit. “What does that mean?”
Gerald pressed both palms against the table. “When we were nineteen, Nathaniel wanted us to get matching tattoos.”
“You refused.”
“I was scared of needles.”
Despite everything, I almost smiled. “He never let you forget it.”
“No.” He looked toward the window. “After he died, I kept thinking about it.”
“The stupid tattoo?”
“The promise behind it.” His voice cracked. “He asked me to do something with him, and I said no.”
“So you did it now.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I loved him.” He swallowed. “And after he died, I wanted to finally give
