The Tattoo

 It is our decisions that define us. We can use our looks, trust our instincts, try our luck, but it is those everyday decisions, big and small, which when added up determine who we are. Once made, we have no choice but to own those decisions forever, both good and bad. We can be taught, coached, and open to advice, but what we become will always come down to how we use that gained knowledge when those teachers, counselors and mentors are not present; those times when the spotlight is shining directly on us... which brings me to the cause of this cautionary tale; to one weekend of questionable choices for myself, and worse... for Lizzie Payne.

It was a myriad of little mistakes that led to “The Big One.” Lizzie came with her friends to the beach house, knowing me and my friends would be there. She let herself drink too much. She followed me into the dark night, and down to the sounding shore. She took off her clothes, and followed me in. She clung to me, undulating with the tides. She lay naked in the sand beside me, watching the stars swim tipsily through the inky sky. As I said before, a myriad of small mistakes.

“I wish it could be like this forever,” Lizzie cooed. “I want to be yours, forever and ever.”

“Prove it,” I slurred, drunkenly.

“All right.” She kissed me hard, grabbed up her beach britches and sweatshirt, and giggled awkwardly away through the deep sand. Through a drunken haze I watched her away, curious. Grown tired, I laid back my head, closed my eyes, and lost myself in the passionate, erotically sexual sounds made wherever sea and land meet.

***

I’ve no idea how long it was I slept. What I do know is I awoke to darkness, with many beers weighing heavily inside me. “Come on,” Lizzie giggled into my ear. “I want to show you something.”

She yanked me by the hand, pulling me through the sawgrass and sand, and on up the beach house steps. She stopped there on the deck beneath the soft glow of an underpowered porch light where she turned her back to me, bent, and dropped her pants. In my dizzied state I thought it an invitation, so I positioned myself appropriately, and took her warm, soft hips in my hands. 

“No silly... read it!”

A second glance revealed writing across one of her cheeks. I struggled to focus my eyes.

A tattoo of flowering vines spelled out something... my name?

She looked back, her childish face devilishly happy, her rear end raised high for my inspection. “You like? I told you! My ass is yours now!” And she squealed with rebellious delight.

Our relationship did not survive long past that beach weekend, but I think about her often, and I am sure she thinks about me too... I would venture every day.

Yes, it is our decisions that define us, good and bad. Poor Lizzie Payne made an unfortunate one on a drunken night that will define her for days (and nights) to come. 

And no, Lizzie no longer loves me, nor wants me forever and ever... but she cannot deny that her cute little tush will always be mine.