Page 79 of Just a Number

I trace my finger over the words that read ‘I live my own story’ just under the pile of books surrounded with flowers and a butterfly perched on the top. It’s a stunning design.

“Yes, that’s the words I want.”

“Oh wow, it’s stunning, Mel. It’s so perfect for you,” Cassidy gushes as she looks over the design.

“Okay, so placement… you want it on your arm?” Laura asks.

“Yes, where I can see it every day.” I point to my left bicep. “Here, I think.”

“Okay, what are you thinking about size? I know when you first reached out, you wanted something small, but then the design kind of grew from there. Is this too big?” She points to the middle sized version of the design.

“No, I like it. You’re right, it’s bigger than I’d first planned, but I want to be able to see all the amazing detail. How long will it take?” I ask.

“A couple of hours, I think. Sound okay?” I nod. “Let me get this onto the transfer paper and we can get the placement just right before I start.”

Ten minutes later, I’m grasping Cassidy’s hand as Laura’s prepping the tattoo gun to start.

“Take a breath and blow it out slowly,” she tells me. Our gazes meet and there’s a similarity between the siblings that means it could almost be Alex here, talking me through this. “Stay still for me, okay?”

“I will,” I vow. I’m not brave enough to watch, so turn my head to look at Cassidy instead. I wince as there’s a sharp scratch as the gun makes first contact. I gulp, trying to get used to the feeling. I realise I’m holding my breath and release it slowly. As I relax, the sensation dulls from a sharper pain to something more tolerable.

The time passes quickly with Cassidy chatting away with Laura. I join in every now and again, but I’m mostly happy to let the conversation roll over my head.

My courage grows with the ink on my arm and in the end, I can’t not watch as Laura permanently adds the bookish design to my skin. She’s adding shading which has a more tickly sensation than the lines when Cassidy says my name.

“Sorry, what?” I ask her with an apologetic look.

“Did you decide what to do about your job?”

“I’m going to resign. I thought about asking for part-time, but I think the new work I want to do is too similar and they wouldn’t want me doing both.” I’m now familiar with the nerves fluttering in my stomach each time I think about handing in my notice.

“What are you planning to do?” Laura asks with a quirked brow.

“I want to run events for creatives and especially help authors promote their books. I helped Cassidy get her books featured in goody bags at an exclusive event a few months ago. And since then, we’ve been working together on her promotions and marketing. I think there’s lots of opportunity to do more things like that.”

“That sounds cool. Ooh, you could host reading retreats. I’d love to do something like that. Go to a cabin in the woods with some fellow book nerds and all just sit quietly and read all day,” Laura says.

“That does sound amazing. I’ll definitely look into it.” I make a mental note to add that to my notebook of ideas, which is getting fuller by the day.

“How much notice do you have to give?” Cassidy asks.

“Four weeks. I want to try and build up some work before I quit, so I have at least some things in the pipeline.”

“That sounds like a good plan. I definitely want you to take over my marketing on a permanent basis if that helps?” Cassidy offers. We’ve been working together on her socials for a couple of months, which has been fun, but I know she wants to take some of that off her plate to have more time for writing and her two guys. “And I can put the word out to my writer friends with a glowing recommendation.”

“That would be amazing. Maybe I should come up with a list of services and some prices and see what interest I get.”

Cassidy and I start brainstorming the things I can offer and I almost forget the work Laura is doing on my tattoo until the noise of the gun stops.

“There you go, all done,” Laura announces. She gives it a final wipe down and adds a cooling liquid to the tattoo that makes my skin shiny. The design is vibrant on my bicep. “Is it okay if I get some photos to post on my socials?” she asks.

“Of course.”

“Okay, you’ve been a trooper, but I’m going to lower the bench and I want you to sit up slowly, okay? You’ve been reclined for a while and might be light-headed when you get up.”

I nod, but can’t take my eyes off my new ink. It’s better than I hoped. A permanent reminder that I get to decide how I live my life. That I don’t have to do all the things expected of me. That I get to choose and I’m using this as a kicking off point to choose more of the things that make me happy.

There’s a pang in my chest when I think of a certain someone who was very good at bringing me joy, but I sent him away. But I can’t mope forever and imagining that he would be pleased with my decision to get this permanent reminder helps add a pep to my step.

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