Melancholy Musings and The Taste of Ink

"You're sure this is the one?"

"Yep. That's the one."

Ike had known me since I was a kid, so I could understand him wanting to give me a chance to change my mind. He cared about me and didn't want me doing something I might regret later. That, and he knew he was going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do when my Dad caught up with him.

"Alright then, if you insist. Lay on back in that chair over there and I'll be just a minute."

As I lay in the cold, sterile back room of Ike's tattoo parlour, I let my eyes roam the photographs that covered the walls. Ike was the best tattoo artist in town, which is why I wouldn't even consider having anyone else do the work for me.

I listened to the calming sounds of the grunge music he had on loop and stared at the ceiling, trying in vain to steady my nerves as I let my fingers trace lazy circles over the virgin skin of my lower belly that would soon be inked.

I barely registered as Ike sat himself down on the stool beside me, carefully laying out his gun and inks.

"Really? That's the spot you've chosen?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Cassie, this is your first tattoo. I'm not going to pretend it's not gonna sting, especially somewhere as fleshy as that."

"It's fine. I can handle it."

I closed my eyes and steadied my breath as Ike muttered something to himself. My eyes immediately flew open when I heard the buzz of the gun. I looked down to where it hovered above my untarnished skin, and Ike gave me one last chance to back out with a silent question via a raised eyebrow.

I swallowed and let out a long breath as I nodded, flinching slightly as the needle broke my flesh. I breathed a sigh of relief when I realised it wasn't painful. Then again, I had an unusually high tolerance for pain.

"How long?" I asked as Ike expertly crafted the outline on my skin.

"Bout three hours. Shading takes longer. You doing ok?"

"Fine."

I let myself zone in and out in the chair—My mind wandering back to the series of events that led me here. I almost drifted off a few times, the steady beat of the music combined with the buzz of the gun creating a euphoric white noise sensation that numbed my otherwise raging thoughts.

Every time I let myself drift too far, I saw his face. The image of his blazing eyes and vibrant smile burned into my consciousness, forcing me out of whatever moment of reprieve I almost found.

"You gonna tell me the story?"

"What story?"

"Tattoo like this," Ike gestured to the almost complete outline that now sat on my lower abdomen, "There's always a story."

The way my eyes flickered must have given me away. Artists like Ike—they learn how to read people doing what they do.

"Let me guess. It involves a boy."

"Am I that transparent?" I asked, more rhetorically than anything.

"Not as much as some. I mean, if it was a flaming heart or some sad words from a Taylor Swift song..." he trailed off, scrunching his nose in disgust.

"Ha. He'd come back to haunt me if I was about to do something like that."

The words were out before I could take them back. I recognised the sympathetic look that crossed Ike's face as they registered.

"So... We're not talking about a break up then?"

I shook my head and blinked back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. Ike let the silence sit between us for a while before he spoke again.

"You know my wife passed two years ago. Two years yesterday, actually. You remember Gemma?"

"Of course. I'm sorry, Ike. I had no idea it's been two years already. You must really miss her."

"I figure it's sort of like losing a limb. You can't bring it back, and you always think about how much better or easier life was before, but you learn to live without it."

"That's a wise analogy... What if... Um, what if it felt more like you lost something more? Like a piece of yourself on the inside was gone?"

Ike's kind eyes met my own, understanding mixed with pain circling in their grey hue.

"You can learn to live without that too, it just might take a little longer... It's time for the shading, kiddo. You want a drink before we get started?"

"You mean?"

"Old enough for a tattoo, old enough for a whiskey."

"Sure, yeah. Thanks, Ike."

As Ike went to pour us a drink, my eyes locked on a familiar tattoo design in a photo on the far wall. The silhouette of a wolf howling at a full moon at the edge of the forest, its coat was made up of interwoven Celtic knots.

My mind flashed as I replayed the image of my own hand tracing over that same design.

-

"What does this one mean?"

"Just a nod to my heritage." The memory of his sharp Galway accent tickled the far reaches of my mind. I could've sworn I felt his lips as they crashed against my own—that was the best thing about Conall, every time he kissed me, he made sure to kiss me like he might never get another chance.

-

I realised I'd drifted off when the gentle clink of the glass against the side table startled me awake. I was entering the point of delirium from lack of sleep where it was possible I could take a microsleep anywhere, anytime.

I grabbed the tumbler that sat next to me and took a slow sip. I'd never had whiskey before, but I'd tasted it. It was Conall's drink of choice and the smoky liquid always seemed to linger on his tongue when he'd kiss me 'hello' at the end of a busy night.

I savoured the burn as it ran down my throat, my thumb absently stroking the band of the Claddagh ring that still sat on my third finger.

"You might want to take another swig of that. You surprised me through the outline, but the shading's been known the crack the toughest nuts."

I heeded Ike's warning and took a strong gulp of my drink before setting it back down on the table and resuming my position.

The sensation of the shading was more noticeable than the outline, but still far from painful. A hidden part of me had been secretly hoping for pain when I made the decision to get this tattoo.

Ike and I resumed our comfortable silence as he got to work, the CD player that he insisted on keeping in the parlour pausing to change discs from the grunge mix he'd been playing to a new album.

When the harmonica sounded through the room for the start of 'Dirty Old Town' by the Pogues, my chest tightened.

"You ok, kid?"

"Yeah. I just wasn't expecting this song to come on is all."

"Want me to change it?"

"No, no. It's perfect, actually."

-

I closed my eyes and thought back to that night at the pub. Conall and I were playing darts and sharing pints. Our roaming hands became less appropriate for a public setting the more alcohol we drank.

I was tracing one of Conall's many tattoos with my finger, I was completely shameless when it came to how attractive I found them.

"You should get one."

"I've thought about it, but I've never had something I thought needed to be immortalised on my body like that, you know?"

"What about I heart Conall, or Conall 4eva, yeah that's even better." he teased, tilting my chin towards him and pecking me softly on the lips, breaking my fixation with his sprawling sleeve tattoo.

"Well, Mr O'Sullivan. How am I to be sure you're a fixture permanent enough for that?"

All teasing left my expression as he took my left hand and slowly slid the Claddagh ring onto my third finger.

"I'd like to be, Cassie. If you'll have me?"

-

"Ouch! Jeez! What's changed?"

"Sorry, kid," Ike grinned, "Tickles a little more near the hip bone."

"You're not wrong."

I sighed and began to breathe my way through the first painful part of my tattoo. Ask and ye shall receive, I thought bitterly to myself.

I shot Ike a grateful smile as he put the finishing touches on his work. I stood slowly as he showed me to the full-length mirror at the far end of the room.

I cocked my head to the side as I examined the work. Ike had done exactly what I asked. There, at the base of my belly, perched on the branch of a tree made of Celtic knots, sat a barn owl. The feathers on its chest had been coloured to match the two hands holding a crowned heart design of my ring.

I didn't bother to hold back the tears now, letting them flow freely for the first time in months.

"Is it not what you wanted, Cassie?" Ike questioned, placing a concerned arm around my shoulder.

"No, it's exactly what I wanted. I don't know how to thank you, Ike." I sobbed, turning and burying my head into his fatherly embrace, letting my emotions wash over me.

As I cried, I let my thoughts carry me back to the waiting room of the emergency department where I sat hand in hand with Conall.

-

"I really think we're overreacting by being here, love."

"Well, you know what they say, you're better off than safe..."

"That's not how that saying goes." Conall laughed, putting his arm around me and kissing the top of my head.

I watched him with complete adoration as his name was called and he followed the nurse into triage. He looked back at me and shot me a wink, before mouthing "see you soon," as he disappeared behind the double doors.

-

As Ike walked me to the front of the shop, I reached for my purse.

"It's on me."

"What? No, Ike, I can't let you do that."

"Please, kid."

I threw my arms around Ike and gave him another long hug.

"Thank you. See you at Dad's on Friday for the game?"

"As if I'd miss a chance to stick it your old man when my team wipes the floor with his sorry excuse for a team. Of course, I'll see you Friday. That's if he's not ready to kick my ass over that tattoo."

"Old enough to drink, remember?"

"See you, kid."

Before I exited the shop I turned back to Ike.

"Say, Ike? Do you think it'd be okay if I took one of the photos from the studio? I uh, really connected with the design."

"Yeah sure, kid. Which one?"

"The Celtic wolf, the one howling, on the far wall?"

Ike stopped in his tracks and turned back to face me. Realisation dawning in his eyes.

"Connall O'Sullivan?"

Hearing his name made my breath hitch in my throat. I placed my hand on my belly as the world started to tilt in my vision. Ike managed to catch me, leading me to the chairs at the shop front before I passed out completely.

"I heard he died. But I had no idea he and you were... You never said... I didn't even know you had a boyfriend."

"We'd been keeping it a secret. We were planning on telling everyone the night he... " my sob choking out the rest of the sentence.

"Why the secret?"

"You know Dad. And everyone knows Connall. He needed to do some damage control, and he did. He'd worked so hard. He wanted my Dad to meet the man he had become, not the man he was."

"And you've been bottling all this up? Going through it completely alone?"

My hand moved to the place on my belly where Connall's memory would live on my skin for the rest of my life.

"After the fight, he wasn't right. He kept complaining about a ringing in his ears and his mood was off. I finally convinced him to let me take him to the ED. He was in good spirits, if he was worried, he didn't let me see. I never thought once they took him through those doors that he wouldn't come back out, Ike..."

As Ike enveloped me in another hug, the numb feeling I'd had for weeks began to subside. It was as though being able to tell someone had allowed me to finally start to feel again.

-

After the conversation with the doctor, explaining the aneurysm, it was difficult to remember anything after that. I know I somehow made it to the car, and that I'd driven out to my Dad's property and curled up under a blanket in the old barn where Connall and I used to sneak off to when we wanted to be alone.

The blanket still held his scent as I wrapped myself in it, unable to believe what was happening.

I made it a habit to drive out to the barn every night over the coming weeks as I processed the death of my love. Knowing no one would ever understand how I could be so broken over the loss of someone I never thought to mention I had been dating, let alone planned to marry.

The owl showed up on the first night, and every night after. I began to anticipate the company of the wise-looking bird as it sat nestled in the rafters, listening to my ramblings about a life that could never be.

I could've sworn there was a knowing in its sharp eyes when its head would tilt toward me whenever I heard the distinct sound of the wolves echoing from the woods.

It had sat unnaturally still as I attempted to sketch out its features for my tattoo design. The natural heart shape to its chest feathers inspired me to incorporate the Claddagh ring.

"So… Do you think he'd approve?" I asked the owl, almost expecting a response. It merely ruffled its feathers and took flight from the open window of the barn's pitched roof, signalling that it was time for me to leave as well. I jumped in my car and headed back to town, knowing my first stop after an attempt at some sleep would be Ike's tattoo parlour.

-

As I left Ike's shop, clutching the photo of Connall's tattoo to my chest, I took a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. It had been two months since Connall's death and I knew what I had to do next.

I jumped in my car and headed toward the cemetery. It was time to tell Connall I finally got a tattoo… and to say goodbye.

I was overcome with guilt as I knelt before the headstone. I'd thought about going to the funeral but had chickened out. I selfishly didn't feel up to explaining to anyone who I was or why I was there, and I certainly didn't feel like explaining to Connall's mother who I'd never met why I was wearing her ring.

"I'm sorry I missed the funeral. And I'm sorry I haven't been to see you… Gosh, Con, it feels like yesterday and forever ago that I saw you. I wanted to tell you that I did it, I got a tattoo… It turns out I did have something that needed to be immortalised…"

As I wiped the tears that had started to stream down my face, I was startled back as a loud flapping sound alerted me to the presence of the winged creature that had just taken residence at the top of Connall's headstone.

I stared in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock at the owl that was staring back at me in contemplation.

"C…Connall?" I stuttered as the bird ruffled its feathers and shook its head.

"Okay… but, he sent you? Right?" I was greeted with the same curious head tilt that I had come to know from my nights in the barn.

The owl looked toward the cemetery gates, and back at me before taking flight. Just as the owl had kept me from hiding away in that barn, its presence here gave me the message I needed.

I leant forward and traced my fingers along the engraved stone that made out the name 'Connall O'Sullivan'.

"Don't worry… I won't be back here too often. I know you wouldn't want that. I just came to say goodbye, that I miss you and that I love you."

As I exited the cemetery something told me that was the last time I would see the owl. When I got in the car I placed my hands on the wheel and took a long look in both directions. I wasn't going back to the barn, and I wasn't going home…

But I was going somewhere, and I couldn't hold back the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth when the faintest feeling of excitement ignited in the pit of my gut. I hit the start button and headed left on the main road out of town.

"So…" I said to no one in particular, "This is what closure feels like…."