Ink by Damien Walters Grintalis

when she decided it was unimportant to her, therefore unimportant to him. She probably smiled when she dropped it in the kitchen trashcan, then sprayed a little more perfume. ” Here, have a little stink to remember me by .”
    After that, he threw it away when he took out the trash. Simple. He’d give Brian the address, and if he really wanted one of Sailor’s tattoos, he could stop by and talk to him there.
     
    12
     
    Mitch picked him up as planned on Saturday night, but she was quiet on the drive to the Inner Harbor. Jason didn’t want to pry so he held his tongue. Once they parked, bought fries and sat down on an empty bench she opened up.
    “I’m sorry, I’ve had a rough day. My ex-boyfriend called me today,” she said. “His mom has lung cancer and it’s bad. They’ve given her six months at most.” She spoke the last few words in little more than a whisper, almost swallowed up by the noise of a half-dozen teenagers shouting nonsense to each other as they walked by. Beyond the wide brick walkway tracing the harbor's edge, sunlight danced on the water. Crowds of tourists and locals moved in and out of the two pavilions that held restaurants and retail shops. In between the two pavilions, more people had gathered to watch a street performer juggling a set of bowling pins while riding on a unicycle, and the sounds of laughter and clapping drifted through the air.  
    Jason reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”
    “I think I’m going to go and visit her in a few weeks. Adam, my ex, is an ass, but she was always nice to me, so I feel like I should. I haven’t talked to her in a really long time. She lives in Colorado now, but when she used to live here, we talked a lot. After I broke up with Adam, it just got weird because he’d pump her for information about me and use her to relay messages to me, so I stopped calling. Eventually, she stopped calling me, too.” Mitch rested her head on his shoulder. “And now she’s dying, and I feel like shit.”
    Jason kissed the top of her head. She’d switched back to the coconut shampoo. An older couple walked by holding hands, and the woman looked over with a smile.
    “It’s the cancer part that makes it so tough, though. Adam’s mom smoked two packs a day, so it’s not a big surprise that she has lung cancer, but my brother died of cancer,” Mitch said.
    “I’m sorry.”
    She remained silent for several minutes, then her words came out in a rush. “Zack was only twenty-two. He had an aggressive form of lymphoma and at first the chemo seemed to work, but after a while…” She shook her head. “It was horrible. He was so sick from all the medicine in the beginning, then when they stopped the treatments because they realized they weren’t working, he was in so much pain.
    “I thought I’d forgotten about all of that, but when I talked to Adam today it all came rushing back—the way Zack looked, the way he smelled, like chemicals and rot, the way he used to smile in spite of it all, in spite of everything. I almost cancelled our date, then I remembered something he told me near the end. He said he had the easy part of it. Dying, he meant. It would be harder for us, but he made me promise I wouldn’t let his death take over my life.” Mitch took one of the paper napkins and twisted it in her hands. “And then he was just gone.”
    She crumpled the napkin in one fist and shifted on the bench so she faced him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She opened her mouth to speak, then shook her head, leaned into his arms and kissed him. When the kiss broke, she smiled. “Thank you.”
    “For what?”
    “For being here. For listening. I know it isn’t exactly great date conversation.”
    He linked his fingers with hers. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sorry your brother died, but I’m not sorry you told me about him.”
    She ran the fingers of her free hand through his hair. “Zack would have liked you. And he would’ve loved your