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Show sitting there beside me I would have dug into myself with my nails. "I mean, it must be very painful getting them off," I said. "Nobody would do that without a reason." He was quiet for a long time, thinking over what to say I guess, and when he was done he gave me a big white smile like he had decided something important, and he put his arm around my shoulder. "Well now," he said, "I'll tell you but you have to promise not to laugh." "I won't," I said. "It might sound kind of dumb." I told him he shouldn't be so sensitive. "Okay," he said. "The reason I got them off is because tattoos always make you look and feel tough, and I was tired of being a tough guy." I had to laugh. It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard. Of course when he pulled his arm away and I looked at his face and saw the hurt there, I felt bad. Imagine, a grown man crying. And I stopped laughing, but it was too late. He had already gotten up from the bench and started away from me. "I'm sorry," I yelled, "really I am." I ran after him but he wouldn't say anything more, wouldn't stop, and when I grabbed hold of his arm he pushed me away. I followed him all the way to his room but it didn't do any good, and when he slammed the door in my face I couldn't help it anymore, I started to cry myself. |