Hitting Zero

Blindsided

            I felt it every second now: the faint throbbing on my right wrist as my timer counted down to what was supposed to be 'the most momentous occasion in my life', according to my aunt.

            They said the timers were counting down to the exact second we meet our soul mate for the first time. Once we see them, the timers would read '0d 0hrs 0sec'.

            No one really knew why we had them on our wrists, when the phenomenon started or whether it was some strange side effect of evolution or not. One day they were just there, on every single human alive. Eventually, everyone just came to accept it.

            I wasn't too sure if I had a lot of faith in a system put in place by some unknown power. The timer's existence was shadowed in too many what ifs for it to be foolproof.

            Like, what if the person who was your soul mate had a tendency of eating live insects or something gross like that? What if he or she spoke a different language and you had no idea what he or she was saying? What if you were living in completely different time zones and one of you die before you ever meet? What then? Would your timer just freeze in place, never to count down again?

            What if your soul mate was blind, like me?

            I leaned my head against the cool glass pane of the window next to me, listening to the steady pounding of the rain outside as I thought about the timers. I was perched on the soft cushioned window seat of a living room I knew to be rarely used by anyone other than myself - you could say it was my safe place.

            The rhythmic tapping of my mother's heels approaching the door broke the general quiet of my surroundings. I listened as she pushed the wooden door open and entered the room. I didn't move, giving no indication that I'd heard her enter. I was hoping that she had only come to check on me.

           Recently she had been nagging me, saying I should leave the house more often in order to increase the chances of me meeting my soul mate. She had gotten upset when I'd started refusing to let her check my wrist for the time left on it, but I had my reasons.

            Mom cleared her throat loudly to let me know she was in the room - something she had been doing ever since I had become completely blind three years ago.

            "Amaranth", she began in her clear voice, a hint of worry lacing her syllables. "You need to start getting ready for your party."

            I imagined her as I'd last seen her - a proud, slim woman of average height, with lightly tanned fair skin, straight brown hair that was always perfectly arranged, dark green eyes and a smile that had varying degrees of genuineness.

            "It's still early right? Isn't the party at seven tonight?" I asked.

            "Mara, it's already four." Her footsteps approached me and I then felt her smooth my brown hair away from my face. The scent of cinnamon flooded my nose - a scent that I had long learned to recognize as uniquely hers.

            "We have to make sure you're at your most beautiful tonight, since you're the birthday girl."

            I was tempted to say that I would not be able to appreciate how good I looked anyway, but I didn't. Instead, I nodded, letting her take me by the hand and lead me to my bedroom down the hall.

            I kept perfectly still as she curled my hair and put makeup on my face, listening to the sounds of her movements. Mentally, I counted the seconds in sync with each pulse of my timer.