Lights Out | Daniel Diaz

After Him

It didn't take long for them to start sharing their American experiences. As it turned out, they had a few things in common, including the fact Lia had lived in Arizona and Daniel had made a stop there on his journey to Mexico, as he mentioned vaguely. They both grew up with siblings — though Daniel wasn't too eager to talk about his brother. Lia didn't press, sparing him, and changed the subject to something she'd been wondering for a hot minute.

"You've got a lot of tattoos," she pointed out, idly drumming her fingers against her drink. "Any meanings behind them?"

Daniel's eyes swept over the bunch. He was pretty fond of them. His left arm was inscribed with a lone, ink wolf amidst a forest, trailing down a foreign path. On his other arm, there was the cub version of the same wolf, sitting next to an older one at a cliff, both silhouetted in the moonlight. The only ones he couldn't see were his father's face on his chest and a tear drop near his right eye.

"That's my dad—" Daniel pulled down his tank top just a bit for her to see, "—he died when I was nine. I... got this to make sure I don't forget his face. The rest are just metaphors for a few memories I want to remember."

"Oh." Lia's expression softened. "I'm really sorry about your dad, Daniel..."

"Don't be."

The tattoos, in reality, burdened him. Yet paradoxically, they motivated him too.

Years ago, when he entered a shady looking tattoo shop in the evening in hopes of getting something, anything that would make him feel like nothing from his old life in America could haunt him any longer, he realized something.

He didn't want to let go of his past.

Well, he did, but it was too much to let go of. He discovered his powers, made mistakes and learned painful lessons. He met many people he wanted nothing but to repay. Over time they turned into hazy memories, and regularly he would remind himself of their names.

There was his dad, mom, Finn, Chris, Sarah Lee, his grandparents Stephen and Claire. People who he wished he had had more time with.

Especially Sean.

So when the woman, not even remotely deterred by the fact he was fourteen asked what he wanted, he thought for a while. He then let the bemused artist inscribe the bittersweet memories into his skin, clenching his fist. She laughed at his expression and told him to loosen up, to which he blushed, pretending it didn't sting.

It was surprising how steadily her fingers worked when the room obviously smelled of recent, not yet aired out marijuana.

What felt like hours later he was allowed to see the finished masterpiece.

The sting he felt on his arm was nothing compared to the one in his chest when he saw the wolf brothers, side by side like they would never be again, etched into his skin. It was a painful but warm memory that would both hurt him and keep him going. Sean would want Daniel to move on, not to forget.

But he couldn't do either. Not yet.

"You know what?" said Daniel, forcing himself out of his thoughts. "Tell me about yourself. None of my tattoos can be as interesting as what you've got to say."

Lia smiled as she eyed the nearly empty glass of margarita in her hand, giggling. Daniel wondered if she had anything to drink before he arrived.

"There's plenty to say. What do you wanna know?"

He started wracking his brain for a good question. He then asked the most clever, insightful one that came to mind.