Scene: The living room of 32-year-old Liz. The carpet is old, but the room is filled with houseplants and art, giving it a pleasant, lived-in feeling. Liz sits on the couch, staring into space, lost in thought. Then, the tattoo on her left thigh speaks up.
TATTOO: Hey, will you please scratch me?
LIZ: No, I’m not supposed to. You have to heal.
TATTOO: Oh yeah. (beat) Hey, I have a question.
LIZ: What?
TATTOO: How the hell did you even brave a needle for 45 minutes to get me? You’re not generally cool with needles. You get light-headed when getting a flu shot. You’ve passed out almost every single time you had to have blood drawn. When you were three years old, you fainted in your father’s arms while your mom tried to remove a splinter from your foot. You get real anxious about simple medical procedures. You--
LIZ: I know. (thinking) You know, I kind of didn’t think of it as a needle. Just an abstract source of pain. I intentionally did not think about the fact that it was a needle creating a tattoo.
TATTOO: Huh. Interesting. (beat) Hey, will you scratch me? I’m so itchy!
LIZ: No.
TATTOO: Okay, fine. (beat) So you just ignored the needle and everything was copacetic?
LIZ: Yeah, actually. (beat) To be fair, I definitely did not once look at the needle. Not while it was sitting on the counter or when it was in Paige’s hand or when it was going into my skin. I just refused to think about it. I mean, I’m getting a little light-headed just having this conversation.
TATTOO: Huh.
(A pause as both Liz and the tattoo become lost in their own thoughts. Then the tattoo speaks up again.)
TATTOO: Hey, I’m itchy.
LIZ: I KNOW. I’m not supposed to scratch you.
TATTOO: Okay, okay. So…do you think your fear of needles is cured now?
LIZ: Probably not. I’ll probably still pass out the next time I have to have blood drawn. But in my defense, I have really teeny tiny terrible veins.
TATTOO: I guess that makes sense. (getting distracted) Ooh ooh! Look! Look at me! A little flake of peeling skin! Peel that off! Do it!
LIZ: Do not tempt me. You have to just heal!
TATTOO: But think how satisfying it will be to peel off this little flake of skin…
LIZ: I know! But if I do that, it could pull the ink right out from my skin and then you'll look bad.
TATTOO: Oh. Okay, well how about you scratch me?
LIZ: No.
TATTOO: Fine. Know what I miss?
LIZ: What?
TATTOO: Just living my damn life without having to be cleansed and moisturized 3 times a day.
LIZ: Believe me. I miss just living my damn life without having to cleanse and moisturize you 3 times a day. I also miss sleeping on my left side.
TATTOO: But you'll smoosh me! I'm still healing! Don't smoosh me while I'm healing!
LIZ: I know. That's why I don't sleep on my left side.
TATTOO: Oh. Thanks. (beat) Hey. I'm itchy.
LIZ: This is getting real old.
TATTOO: I can't help it!
LIZ: Well, I'm not going to scratch you no matter how many times you ask. (sighing) I can't wait until this phase of healing is over.
TATTOO: How do you think I feel?
LIZ: Itchy?
TATTOO: Yes.
LIZ: Know what else I'm excited about?
TATTOO: What?
LIZ: Being able to put my actual bedding back on my bed.
TATTOO: You have different bedding? But I thought--
LIZ: Those are my actual pillowcases, but I’ve also been sleeping with an old fitted sheet and comforter. That's why they don't match. At all. The juxtaposition of teal and yellow pillowcases, and rust/marigold fitted sheet and comforter is SO TERRIBLE. It hurts my soul to see such a terrible color combination. It's been bothering me this whole time.
TATTOO: Then why did you do it?
LIZ: Because Paige and the internet told me to sleep on old bedding for the first few nights because you might ooze blood and lymph and ink and ruin everything I own.
TATTOO: That's...gross.
LIZ: I know.
TATTOO: Hey, I'm--
LIZ: Don't say it. I know. You're itchy.
TATTOO: AND peeling.
LIZ: I know.
(beat)
TATTOO: (thinks for a moment) So why did you keep the terrible bedding combination for so long?
LIZ: Because I had to do laundry. I put the comforter and fitted sheet that match the pillows in the laundry but then I didn’t have time to actually launder them until now.
TATTOO: Oh. (beat) Hey, I’m itchy. Will you scratch me?
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