This is My Message to You

Now

His face comes back to me most when I'm not looking for it, popping out of a crowd or jumping into a dream. I know that for the first time in twelve years, he's not here at school with me, and I'm far enough from home that, for once, no one knows his name. But somehow he's managed to follow me here, and I can just picture the smirk on his face if he knew.

I sit with Tessa on the futon, our spoons stuck in a pint of Ben and Jerry's and a Parks and Rec episode playing on the TV. Her phone is tucked away in my pocket so that she can't answer his texts when her post-breakup hatred starts to fade, and her red-rimmed eyes keep leaking tears even though she told me she was done crying an hour ago. I didn't believe her, anyway; I have too much experience with that.

As we snuggle under the fuzzy green blanket I brought from home, she takes my hand and squeezes it, saying, "I'm so glad I have you, Riley."

Tessa's a great roommate, better than anyone I could have found online, really. I don't mind knowing that in a few hours I'll probably be holding her hair as she pukes off this very same futon. Things like that stopped bothering me months ago.

I'm laughing at something Ron Swanson says on the TV, so I don't really react when she brings my hand closer to her face, peering at my skin. It's only when she says, "I didn't know you had a tattoo," that I realize what she's looking at.

And just like that, he's there.

"Yeah, I got it at the end of the summer," I say, tugging my hand out of hers and holding it up in front of me so that I can see the ink at the top of my wrist. Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" begins to play in the back of my mind.

"I can't believe I didn't know this whole time!" Sometimes Tessa forgets she's only known me four months, but I kind of like that. She inspects my tattoo with narrowed eyes, shaking her head. "This is bizarre. I did not picture you as a tattoo person."

That's what the few people I told back home said, too. Ironically, my parents were the only ones who didn't question it, even though they hadn't let me pierce my cartilage until senior year. Rolling my eyes, I say, "Don't worry, it's the only one I have."

"Does it symbolize something?"

Tessa's attention is now fully diverted from the recent tragedy of her breakup; the new light of interest in her eye is the only thing that causes me to hesitate in my usual answer of "nah, it was just for fun." As I look from her face to the tattoo on my wrist, I realize that I haven't talked about it in four months, and since I just forced her to tell me everything she's feeling, it's only fair that I do the same.

"Yeah," I say, but slowly. "It has to do with this guy."

"Ooh, I like this already." Tessa pulls the blanket up to her chin and leans back against the futon, her eyes fixed on me. "I hope there's a good story behind it."

I take a deep breath and keep my eyes on the ink. 

~Hi! Told you it'd be short. Most of these "chapters" will be short, much shorter than what you're used to seeing from me. Let me know what you think! And give the song above a listen; it'll have some relevance later on.

Gracias! <3 vb123321