As the soccer game went on around us, I was oblivious to the loud cheering and coaching, and the loud sounds of feet scuffling and making contact with the ball. I was focused only on Ian's hands, steadily working their way through my long, curly hair. I was faintly aware of Melanie's knowing glance in my direction as she paused for a drink of water, and Kyle yelling across the field for Ian to join. He ignored them.
The two of us sat snuggled together on the sidelines, waiting out the game. Ian insisted on staying with me; this new body was too weak for soccer. I told him I was fine on my own, but was secretly glad when he stayed by my side.
Beside us was a stack of papers, tattered notebooks and pens. Jared had been working on the list of things we needed for the next raid, and Ian and I –along with Melanie- had been helping him write it all down. It turned out that Pet's neat, loopy cursive handwriting was much easier to read than Jared's careless scrawl.
As my head rested sleepily on Ian's broad shoulders, I played with the black marker we had used to make the lists. My small hands passed it back and forth between them, spinning it around. I uncapped it, and then capped it again. I wasn't paying much attention. It had been a long day, and even though my family no longer allowed me to participate in the most strenuous work, it had been a tiring one for me nonetheless.
I insisted sticking by Ian's side throughout the day, doing a modified version of the work he did. Everyone thought I couldn't tell when they discreetly lightened my load, or completed a task for me. I noticed and protested, but a small part of me was grateful. No matter how much I wanted to help, I had to be realistic; there was only so much that I could do.
Ian stretched, and then repositioned his arms around my small waist. I leaned back into him, still playing with the marker. I noticed his left forearm draped somewhat across my lap, and without stopping to think, I put the marker to it and started doodling.
Ian wasn't really sure what I was doing, he just sat completely still and watched as I drew on his skin. My hand was blocking his view. I absentmindedly wrote the words love you forever in my loopy script. Satisfied with my work, I leaned back and my eyelids started to flutter.
I was about to drift off when I head Ian's soft sigh.
I tilted my head up, concerned now. "Oh! Did you not want ink on your arm? Of course you didn't. That was so stupid of me. Here, let me help you wash it off…" Ian cut me off as I tried to stand.
"No, love," he said, smiling down at me. "I was only wishing for a second that we had all of the equipment from out in the world so that I could make this permanent."
"Permanent?" I asked, curious now. "How would it be permanent?"
"Did any of Melanie or Pet's memories ever include tattoos?" he asked me, with an affectionate look on his face.
Suddenly, I remembered.
"No!" I cried, and he looked surprised. "I wouldn't want to damage your skin! And it would hurt you!"
Ian was chuckling softly now. "What?" I demanded.
"I only meant that I wished I could have this little doodle of yours permanently. I love it, and I love you."
"Do you need a doodle to know that I love you?" I asked, a bit of his teasing tone in my own voice now.
"No, of course not," he laughed. "But I still love it. I love the way the letters form, the way you express your thoughts. It shows me some of who you are."
"Those are Pet's traits." I said, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "That's her handwriting. Not mine."
"What do you mean?" he asked immediately. "Of course it's yours. You – Wanda, the Soul –shape everything about your personality. Ever since you became Pet, you have transformed from an echo of her to a representative of yourself. You can ask anyone here, they'll tell you the same thing."
I stared up at him in wonder. "Are you sure?" I asked. I still wasn't convinced.
"I'm positive," he assured me. "Do you want a specific example?" He held up his arm. "Your handwriting has been changing over these past few months. Haven't you noticed?"
I shook my head.
"At first, it was more block-like and solid." he informed me. "And slowly it's become softer and more curling. That's you, Wanda. Not a remainder of Pet."
Not just the handwriting, but the knowledge that my Ian was so observant of these little things about me made my eyes well up. I didn't deserve him; I didn't deserve any of this.
But I had it, and I was blissfully happy.
"Well," I said, smiling now with my tears blinked away, "I can't give you the permanent tattoo, seeing as we don't exactly have access to the necessary equipment."
Not that I would ever let him, anyways.
"I can however, give you the next best thing," I informed him.
He looked at me, a smile on his face that could only be a combination of affection and amusement, as I took the extra sheets of paper from beside me and began to draw.