Etched Into My Skin.

Let us get one thing straight: I never got any of my tattoos because of her. She wasn’t the reason I got them. But she was however involved in the stories behind them. If you ask me to retell those stories, you would find that I will mention her in one way or another. She was always in the background, lurking quietly in the shadows and taking it all in as she watched it all happen. Sometimes she was directly involved, other times she an innocent bystander, an oblivious, clueless speculator.

One thing was for sure, though - she had everything to do with my first tattoo.

Most people think that the first tattoo you get is always meaningless or pointless, that you got it just so you could say you did. And that was the case for a couple people, who got drunk and made the stupid decision to get a tattoo. But luckily, that hadn’t been me.

When I first walked into the tattoo parlor, I hadn’t even had an idea of what I’d wanted.

~

My buddy Tim pats me on the back and chuckles when he sees me glancing around like a lost puppy. “Scared, O’ Callaghan?”

I roll my eyes. Him and the guys made a bet that I would chicken out.

The only thing I was afraid of was not choosing the right thing to get etched into my skin. I’d be stuck with it, so I’d better choose widely. Because it will be with me the rest of my life.

Life.

While I start thinking about the word, a memory sticks out in my mind. It struck me like lightning, but it was as clear as day.

My grandfather had just passed away. I was nine years old at the time, and I didn’t know what to do with myself. That man…I’d looked up to him all my life, and now he was gone. Just like that.

At the funeral, I sat alone and didn’t speak.

That’s when she’d plopped down next to me, looking pretty in her black dress and little black shoes. “I’m sorry about your grandpa. I know he meant a lot to you.”

I nodded then and kept quiet.

"Don’t be too sad about it," she’d said, clicking her thick heels. "He may have died, but you still live. So as long as you live, he’ll live in you. In your heart."

I had stared at her, astonished. She giggled and got up, walking away.

My mind replays the scene again and again. Something about that just felt important to remember.

"I know what I’m getting," I say to Tim sitting next to me.

"What?" he asks as he raises an eyebrow.

I bite my lip. “Live.”

"Live?"

"Yeah," I say. "The word ‘Live.’"

He gives me a strange look. “How come?”

I sigh. The story was too long to explain. And even if I did tell him, it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t be able to express how much it mattered to me. I don’t think I’d ever be able to get across to the gratitude that I had for her.

She was special. Somehow.

~

You’re probably wondering who “she” is.

She’s a lot of things. The first girl I ever really had as a best friend and could talk to about anything. The girl that, without even having to lift a finger, impacted my life and changed me completely.

Her name is Livia.