Winner (Stars): The first drink I ever had

The first drink I ever had

by Amy Elise Walter

Unbearable. I hadn’t felt the knife before, obviously, but the needle now was searing into my swollen skin. Working as gently as he could between my right rib and hipbone, cathartically close to the scar, he etched ten short lines with five points that seemed to anchor themselves deep within me. A small black star glowed from my stomach, raw and tender. 

I got the tattoo a year ago, as soon as the scar healed. I had to do something, it hurt too much.

***

“What makes you wanna go for the chop?” the hairdresser asks.  

“I’m having a birthday party tonight, for my kidney. She’s 23 today.”

You know those fairground stalls where the clown pans around with its mouth gawping open? I could’ve socked a bean bag right through to her tonsils, knocking out a couple teeth as I went.

“I know it’s a bit weird, but I’ve got a sort of double bucket-list situation going on these days,” I offer. Her mouth opens and closes a few more times like a carnival goldfish. I laugh; start the poor girl breathing again.

“Reet then.” Her scissors snip urgently; deflecting. “Reet, then.”

Truth is, I did have trouble getting people on board for the party. It’s a bit morbid, isn’t it, celebrating a chunk of a person? Without being held together in the same wrap of skin, having someone else’s blood running through you, you’re not really you anymore, are you? That’s not something people want to be reminded of, unless it’s all they’ve got.

“Here we are, love, this one’s on me.”

A hand-held mirror turned; I struggled to recognise the woman looking back. 

***

In the community centre there’s a disco ball rotating so fast it makes me dizzy. My kidney and I are wearing our new haircut and a crop top that shows off our scar, punctuated by the tiny five-pointed star. Prosecco, her favourite, burns my throat as I chug it down. A novelty; I’m finally living, but enough for two? Three more Proseccos race to join the first and suddenly everything is spinning.

The DJ hands me the microphone.

I find two faces in the front of the crowd: the parents of my kidney, Seren. Their eyes are glassy with pain, confusion and anger.

I couldn’t give Seren’s parents a recording of her heartbeat. They can’t look into my eyes knowing her corneas are helping me look back. I cradle my exposed stomach. This little tattoo and this stupid party are all I can offer.

I take a deep breath, able to rely on my own lungs, at least.

“To Seren.” I raise my glass. “Happy Birthday.”

No. No, no, no. The Prosecco wants to say a few words of its own. I try to hold it in but everything’s numb and the bubbles burst out in one long, horrifying burp.

Silence.

Seren’s Dad raises his glass, tired eyes flooded with tears: “That’s our girl.”

We cry, we dance, we drink. For Seren.

—

Amy Elise Walter is a writer and communications professional trying to make tricky subjects more palatable with clever words. Sometimes successfully. 

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Our Reader said:

I chose this piece because the writer approached the ‘Stars’ theme in a unique but very effective way. The first-person narrative voice was very compelling and I was able to empathise with the narrator’s reaction to an ongoing trauma. 

Pain is a fascinating theme to have used. I really identified with the radical, impulsive decisions that the narrator and protagonist makes to cover up and comprehend the depth of the pain that her illness and treatment has caused.

‘I got the tattoo a year ago, as soon as the scar healed. I had to do something, it hurt too much.’

I love this—I think this is such an interesting comment on pain. Whilst the physical pain is obvious, the writer draws close attention to the narrator’s psychological pain and torment caused by her illness and treatment. I identified the narrator’s tattoo as a very deliberate attempt to carve distance and space between her trauma and her present in which she longs to be young, carefree and “normal”.   

Whilst the star itself is fairly understated in relation to the plot, the writer’s attention to detail in their description of the tattoo was gently compelling and undoubtedly pivotal to understanding the narrator. When I see people with tattoos I am compelled to ask what their significance is to them as they can reveal experiences, feelings, personality and, perhaps, trauma. Seren the Star told me so much about the narrator: it was such a clever yet simple creation that held such deep meaning and emotion. Fantastic!