"How?"
"He said Barbra needed proof that she mattered."
"And your skin was the proof?"
"Mom."
"No, explain it to me. Why wasn't renewing their vows enough? Why didn't Stephen tattoo her face on himself?"
"He already has her name."
"Her name isn't her entire head."
Dustin looked embarrassed.
Good.
He should have been.
Then his expression changed. The embarrassment gave way to something defensive and frightened.
"Dad said it would help."
"Help whom?"
"Everyone."
I sat down again.
"Dustin, look at me."
He refused.
I reached across the table and placed my hand over his tapping fingers.
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"I'm not angry because you got a tattoo. I'm angry because I don't believe you wanted this one."
His jaw tightened.
"You think I can't make my own decisions."
"I think you made this decision for a reason you're hiding."
"I'm 18."
"Yes, and being 18 does not make you impossible to manipulate."
That landed.
tHe pulled his hand away.
"Nobody manipulated me."
"Then tell me why you did it."
"I already did."
"No. You told me what your father wanted. I'm asking what you wanted."
His face went red.
For several seconds, the only sound in the kitchen was the ticking clock above the refrigerator.
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Finally, he muttered, "It wasn't for free."
I felt a cold pressure build behind my ribs.
"What wasn't?"
"The tattoo."
I stared at him.
"You were paid?"
"Not exactly."
"What did Stephen offer you?"
Dustin rubbed both hands over his face.
"It was a favor for a favor."
"What favor?"
"I helped him with Barbra."
"You helped your father save his marriage by tattooing his wife onto your body."
"That's not how he said it."
"How did he say it?"
Dustin swallowed.
"He said families make sacrifices for each other."
My anger sharpened.
"Parents sacrifice for their children. Children do not sacrifice their bodies to repair their parents' marriages."
He flinched.
I softened my voice.
"What did he promise you?"
Dustin pushed away from the table and paced toward the sink.
"Forget it."
"I won't."
"It's done now."
"That tattoo is done. Whatever your father promised is not."
He turned around.
"You'll just get mad."
"I am already mad."
"At me?"
The question broke something in my chest.
