I gave her the pendant on our first month-iversary. My look back then was a tank top and combat pants. I tried to impress her, make her think I was a soldier. I would also try to impress the soldiers I sometimes passed in the street, I would give them a knowing nod. I hoped they would think I was one of them. That is the kind of person I was.
I guess I blew my cover giving her that octopus pendant. If it was a bullet pendant, or dog tags, she might have thought I was a soldier, but octopus showed childlike wonder and also care. It showed a deep meditative spirit and a love of the aquatic. She was not fooled by my fatigues and flak armor. By the knives and guns, and bullet wounds that I had done on me at the tattoo shop. They did scars, so I asked them if they could imitate bullet scars and they said sure, that will be twenty bucks a pop. They had a special set of scoops they did it with, each for a different caliber. For thirty bucks they could do dum-dum. I went for .546 service, or something like that. Sounded legit.
She looked at my naked chiseled torso and asked “Are you an actual soldier, though?”
And I had to say “No,” because I did not have the courage to lie or the imagination to deceive. Then I saw it in her eyes.
I still have the pendant though.