[ WP ] Everyone is born with their soulmate 's name written on the sole of their foot . Your foot has a name on it , but it is n't written in any known language .

I do n't know why they let people get tattoos when they're drunk. Well, no point blaming someone else. We had a beer too many, and then a few more, and someone suggested going to the parlour. Fantastic idea at two in the morning. No complaints from me. 
 
 The shop was as dodgy as a pie out the back of a van, and probably as hygienic. Surprised none of us ended up in an ambulance. No worries from us though, just happy to find somewhere open. So, we ignore the yellowing walls, lingering cigarette smoke, half-drunk bottle of vodka on the counter. Actually, we noticed the vodka, and dared each other to take a swig. No takers though. 
 
 Ideas of what to get done went back and forth, and in the end we found a bunch of names on one of the sheets. Davey, the lemon, said something about getting a random one on our feet, so we'd have to go find some girl with a matching name to date. Genius. No possible way to backfire. 
 
 The madman in question goes first, gets a ninety-two, since that's his birth year. Another great idea, until I pointed out we all had the same birth year. Except Jim, the oldie from ninety-one. Grumbles all round, but they go out of their ways to think up a number. 
 
 I'm last. Not trying to shift the blame again or anything, but do n't trust drunk people to remember a number, okay? A lot of difference between a seventeen and a seventy-one. 
 
 Water under the bridge. 
 
 We're all standing there, trying to balance on a leg since the other foot got stabbed like a thousand times and feels it. Davey has the smuggest grin. “ Check it, Greg. ” 
 
 What really impressed me, the difference between the skin around the tattoo and the rest of his foot. Must have been industrial strength rubbing alcohol. “ What? ” 
 
 “ Ca n't you read? ” 
 
 Realised then I maybe should n't have had the last couple of pints. Could n't tell what he'd gotten. “ No mate, I can't. ” 
 
 Jim slapped him on the shoulder, nearly knocking Davey over. “ You got it upside-down! ” 
 
 “ Oh, right, ” he said, and, after a moment, asked, “ How am I gon na turn my foot around? ” 
 
 Helping out, Jim managed to twist the knee around, and it actually looked like letters. “ There we go, so, M-E-L… ” I began, trailing off. “ You better not be thinking. ” 
 
 “ Davey? Thinking? End of the world before that happens, ” Jim said, grinning himself. 
 
 Letting out a bark of laughter, Davey asked, “ Well, set us up then Greg? Always thought your sister was quite the looker. ” 
 
 “ Yeah and she's gon na be looking at you in the hospital if you try anything, ” I said, trying to get in his face and failing. Drinks and hopping do n't mix all that well. 
 
 And they all have a laugh, and show off their names. Then, it comes to me, and I clutch on to a chair and lift my foot up. They stare at it for a while, and I ask, “ What? ” 
 
 Jim turns my foot around, and they all stare again, before shaking their heads. “ Mate, what number did you get? ” 
 
 “ Seventeen. ” 
 
 Pete checked the book. “ That's not a name, mate. You got yourself a plant. ” 
 
 A chorus of, “ Oh! ” came from the choir. 
 
 “ I what? ” 
 
 “ A plant, mate. Some vine thing. ” 
 
 It took a while to live that down. Ca n't count the times one of'em's been around mine, and I'm walking around barefoot, and they say, “ Oi, you've got something stuck to your foot, ” and I check, and they laugh. Had to wear socks to stop them. 
 
 Well, a couple of months go by, and for the most part we move on from that night. Do n't often see each others feet, never mind the bottom of them, so we just kinda forgot. Then, one day out the blue, my sister calls me over for lunch. 
 
 Who do I see there? Davey, not looking so smug though. In fact, looked like he'd been sweating. Melissa sits me down, tells me the two of'em are dating, and I got ta live with that. Let's just say words are exchanged, he sweats a lot more, and I go off on my way. 
 
 That gets the lads going. Loving it, they bring the banter in full force. Kicking me while I'm down, like good friends do, and making sure to knock Davey down whenever he thinks he can get a word in. At some point, Jim comes out with “ Sole-mate ” and brings the house down. Best thing since sliced bread. 
 
 The night drags on, and Davey sneaks off, and then the others start too. Just me and Pete eventually. Gets quiet. Then, he says, “ You know, I keep seeing my foot, and there's, ya know, a girl at work. ” 
 
 “ Pete, I'm glad you got your kinks, but I do n't wan na know. ” 
 
 “ No, no, the name, ” he quickly said. “ Sarah. Maybe, maybe there's something in it, you know? ” 
 
 I laughed at him, finishing my drink. “ Nah mate, we were pissed. ” 
 
 “ But, what if that let us, you know, subconsciously choose it? ” 
 
 Laughed again, and stood up. “ Yeah, yeah, you're getting lonely and looking for anything. Just go for it. ” 
 
 Low and behold, next weekend he's showing off his new girl down the pub. Davey and Melissa are still going strong. Jim's asking everyone and anyone if they know a Clarice. Whole thing's a joke that went too far, and I'm sitting there with a bunch of leafs on my foot. 
 
 So it goes, and on it goes, all of them finding their “ sole-mate ”. Before I know it, Davey bloody well pops the question. Best man at my own sister's wedding. She looked gorgeous in her dress. Absolutely stunning. 
 
 Whole thing leaves me distant. There they all, chatting to their better halves, and I'm on my own. Not lonely, but, well, drinking alone is pretty sad. Better to have someone next to you. 
 
 Some girl joins me, while the couples are all dancing. Thanked her for the company. Maybe I had a beer too many, because I end up talking a lot, and she's being polite about it. Lovely laugh, really. And I always had my hesitations about listening to my eyes after a few drinks. But, she had a nice look to her. 
 
 Gets late, most people are going home. I'm stuck around to help tidy, and she's waiting for her designated driver. Asked her what she's doing here. Sister of a bridesmaid, helped with the make-up. 
 
 Just about closing time, and she asks me my name. I laugh, asking her if she missed the best man's speech. She laughs back, telling me she missed the best man's name is all. 
 
 “ Greg. ” 
 
 Did n't want to make it easy for her, so I asked her if she wanted to hear a story about the time I got a bit too drunk. She laughs again, and she loves a laugh, had a lovely laugh. 
 
 “ Well, I do n't know why they let people get tattoos when they're drunk, ” I say to start, and being a long ramble about the events from there. 
 
 By the time I get to the end, she's out of breath from laughing, proper red in the face. She asks to see my foot, and knowing I kinda asked for that, slipped out my shoe and pulled off my sock. It's a little hard to balance, the alcohol not helping. 
 
 For a moment, she's quiet, but with a grin on her face. “ Go on, let it out. Funny, right? My sole-mate's a vine. ” 
 
 She shook her head, though looked on the point of bursting. After a while of looking away from me, she managed to calm down, and I got my foot back in the shoe. “ You should ask me my name, ” she said, still showing good humour. 
 
 “ Go on then, what is it? ” 
 
 Biting her lip, she leans a little closer. Her breath's rather fruity, from the wine. Damn, her eyes sparkled, so beautiful. If she did n't say something soon, I'd end up kissing her. 
 
 A whisper, she says, “ Ivy. ”
