So I got a tattoo back in February.  I have always been interested in tattoos and as long as I can remember I have been interested in Star Wars so I got the death star tattooed on my chest, right above my heart.

            Because tattoos are still considered taboo in many workplaces I was careful to make sure I got it in a location that could be easily covered whilst working.  Mostly every shirt I own envelopes it rather discreetly and the existence of the tattoo has only been made aware to a few close friends and my kindest mother who paid for nearly half of it.  She was not pleased with it’s outcome.

For Christmas my dear aunt got me a tank top shirt when she was visiting Hawaii.  Being the pasty bastard that I am I have never owned a tank top, especially since for most of my life my mother was unbearably overprotective. She always has an SPF of at least 50 on deck whenever summer roles through town.   With that said, I have never donned the tank.

            Today was an exception.  Mom’s been out of town for two weeks and the laundry duties have been up to me.  I had been wearing every shirt to it’s maximum capacity and I could not find one that was suitable to wear during the summer, other than the tank.  It was no big deal really, I was just wasting time around the house, not expecting to go out until my friend Clay called.

            “Jim!  Remember those rabbits I got last year, the two chicks?”

            I assured him that I remembered his rabbits quite well and I almost included that I never knew nor gave a shit about their sex.

He continued:

            “They are a boy and a girl, and they procreated!  Can you believe that?”

            I almost made some sort of comment about them being “at it like rabbits” but he once again cut me off.

            “The little buggers are adorable and we think you would make a wonderful parent!  The sooner the better because they’re going quick as hell, almost as fast as they came. We’ve already given away the two cutest, so swing by dude.  It’ll be good to see you.  We’re looking forward to it.”

            The “we” in this scenario was Clay and his girlfriend Amity who have been inseparable for the past year since they first started dating.  Its understandable but Clay was, and I guess still is my best friend and I miss the hell out of the guy.  If any other person would have called me and asked me to take a rabbit I would have declined them unkindly. Hopefully this mildly explains the opacity of which I wanted to see Clay.

            I also feel it would be good to see Amity.  She was diagnosed with cancer shortly after her and Clay started dating and has since started chemotherapy.  I haven’t seen her since the diagnosis and really wasn’t quite sure what to expect.

            I arrived a little late and while they were waiting, Clay and Amity ran into town for some errands or some bullshit.  Sitting in front of Amity’s house I was able to prepare myself to face Amity being bald.  It was not my first time dealing with a chemo patient that had lost their hair, but I haven’t seen Amity in so long so it was going to be awkward either way.  Not to mention, I am quite the awkward piece of shit.

            “Jim!”  Clay shouted driving down the street before pulling into Amity’s driveway.  I could just barely make out her bandanna as Clay’s jeep sped by.  Clay stepped out of his vehicle and greeted me like old time’s sake, as if nothing was wrong with his girlfriend. And Amity, though timid, like an injured doe hugged me.  Being so close to her, I was able to make out a scar on her chest that was obviously from her treatment.  It was covered up well with her shirt and from say, ten feet away you wouldn’t be able to tell it was there, but boy, did I.  And I hate to say it, but it was quite the unsightly disfigurement. 

            What really alarmed though me was that her blemish was in nearly the exact position as my tattoo.

            Clay and Amity lead me through the backyard to the bunny cages where I could check out the critters.  There were 9 of them and Clay confessed to tell me that they had yet to get rid of any of them.  He and Amity have been trying most exuberantly to give these rabbits away and it has been more difficult than they had foreseen.  I told Clay I didn’t mind much about his ruse, I was just happy to see him.

            Amity and Clay took out three of the nine baby bunnies and put them in a circular fence they equipped to contain the bunnies with enough square yardage to stretch their teeny legs.  Right away, Clay asked me which one I was interested in, trying to eschew me into making a decision and taking a rabbit off of his hands.  Being coaxed, I pointed to a grey one just for kicks, I didn’t mind really which one I got. 

            Again, being pushy, Clay asked me what name I would choose for said rabbit.  I was taken aback for a second and Clay interjected “How about Anikin?  Or Han Solo?  No wait!  Chewy! Yes Chewy!  I think you should name it a Star Wars name, Amity, have you seen Jim’s tattoo?”

            I have seen Clay since I’ve gotten the tattoo so I knew he was conscious of it but I hadn’t seen Amity and could only assume she might have known of it from Clay’s description only.  Even though my tank top was rather revealing it still covered a good portion of my stigma and I was about to move aside one of the shoulder straps to show her when she said.

            “Yeah, I noticed it.  It’s pretty cool.” 

            A little surprised I looked down at my tattoo and then looked at Amity’s scar.  They indeed were in the same location and had equal parts visibility.  I looked at Amity and she met my gaze with a champion’s smirk.  We were thinking the same thing, and it was a relief to know everything was pretty cool.