I met you and Jake, seeing your relationship with him made me miss Sabrina so much, I wanted to feel closer to her.”
“You didn’t tell me that,” I muttered, almost defensively, and she smiled into my eyes.
“I’m not sure you would’ve listened to me then,” she replied pointedly, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Touché.”
She opened to a particular page and continued saying, “Anyway, I started reading her journals a couple months ago. At first, it felt like prying, but then, it just felt nice, to see her handwriting and to read her thoughts. But then, one night, I came across this entry, and I knew you needed to read it.” She turned the book around to face me and passed it to my opened palms.
Eyeing the scrawled scripture, I asked, “Why?”
“Because you asked why she got the tattoo.”
My breath whispered from my lungs as I held the book in my hands and turned to her couch. Deaf to the chatter and laughter behind her front door, I sat down and braced myself. I don’t know why I felt I had to. Maybe it was just the finality of having a definitive answer to a question I’d had months ago, assuming I’d never get one. Or it could’ve been the fear of a letdown, a mundane explanation for something that had quite literally changed my life in every possible way. But whatever it was, I swallowed my apprehension and began to read.
“God, what a mixed bag of a day.
It started with a doctor’s appointment. I don’t feel well, I don’t feel right, and I told the doctor as much. But all he could tell me is everything looks the same and that I have nothing to worry about. But come on. I’m dying. I know I am, I can feel it in everything I do. Like this could be the last time I write in this book and that wouldn’t be a surprise to me. It’s a feeling I have that I can’t help, and I’m not sure I’d even classify it as a scary one. It’s just weird. And a little sad, too, but only because I’m worried I won’t do everything I need to before this part is over.
I can’t talk about this to Vanessa anymore, though. She cried so much tonight. It’s like she’s already mourning, and I hate that. I mean, I get it—I’m not sure I’d be any different, if it was the other way around—but I’m still here. I worry so much about what’ll happen to her after I’m gone. I worry she’ll close herself off, and I just hope someone walks into her life who can give her purpose. She needs that.
Ugh. Okay. Too heavy. Let’s get to the good stuff.
I got my tattoo! I wrote about the idea a while ago, but I finally did it tonight. And it is gorgeous.
I fell in love with this artist on Instagram. His name is Blake Carson and he works at Salem Skin. His work is breathtaking in this gritty, gothic sort of way and it’s a total understatement to say I’ve been drooling over his work. I mean, I’ve been completely and utterly obsessed with his artwork for years, and I’ve wanted to get something done by him for about as long. Honestly, it’s stupid that I haven’t done it sooner, but I guess I just thought I had time. But today I woke up knowing so affirmatively that my days were severely numbered, and after Vanessa went home, I went over to Salem Skin. I didn’t even make an appointment, even though his Instagram page strictly says he works by appointment only. I just walked in there, told this girl with dreadlocks that I needed to see him specifically, and when he came out from the back, I got the most bizarre feeling. I wish I could adequately express how I felt, but all I can say is, I knew that meeting him meant something. I don’t know how or why, but I just knew. So weird.
Anyway, Blake asked me what I wanted to do and when I wanted to come in, and I told him I needed to do it right away. The look he gave me made me laugh, like I had some audacity making demands, and he said I could make an appointment and come back another day. But I wouldn’t leave.”
I looked up from the book laid open in my lap and met Audrey’s eyes with an urgent, sincere recollection.