Page 88 of Under My Skin
We can’t erase loss. We can’t unload it onto someone else. We can’t cure it. We can only carry it, and over time, hope we learn to carry it well.
I’m still learning. Some days are heavier, but others feel more manageable. Days like today, I can look forward to the future. I can think about the ring I have hidden upstairs in a box on the top shelf of my closet. I can imagine her answering that question the same way she just answered this one. I can enjoy life and not feel guilty about it.
Lucy holds out her arm. “Okay. You can mark me now.”
I shake my head, and I swear everything she does has my affection for her growing. With a gloved hand, I pick up the tattoo gun one more time. “You’re sure about this? Because I love you, but I can’t sit here all day. My next appointment is in an hour.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sure.” I don’t want to doubt her, but Iknow she’s reading into the look on my face when she quickly adds, “Really.”
I dip the needle into the ink and lean forward. With the needle hovering over the purple stencil line, I shoot her one more questioning look.
“I trust you.”
The words probably shouldn’t hit me in the chest the way they do, but I falter slightly before regaining my bearings. Lifting her hand, I press a kiss to her open palm before laying it flat on the table again. As I drag the needle over her skin, she winces slightly, but then her face relaxes.
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She frowns. “That doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.”
With a chuckle I say, “Don’t look so disappointed.”
Her lips lift, and she says, “I love you.” It’s moments like these that I know I’m doing something right—that I know I’m someone my dad would be proud of.
