The Soulmate System

5. Soulmates are Not Designated to Like Each Other, Though It Is Recommended

"Mom?" Dylan called into the hall, slipping through the unlocked door into his mother's flat, his breath ragged and his mind unfocused. Mrs. Matthews looked back from the living room to see him, an aerobics workout video from the Eighties playing on the television; it was enough to distract Dylan's brain for a moment. "Why?"

His mother was twisting on the floor, riding an invisible bike in sync with the now aged, or now dead, models onscreen. "It's good for my pelvic floor, and helps keep my legs and stomach muscles strong."

"But why this video?" he asked, closing and locking the door to her flat.

"You should do it with me."

"Mom, it's weird," Dylan told her, hanging his jacket on the hooks by the door. Piper hopped over before he asked, "Has she been outside today?"

Words squeezed out between her torso twisting, his mother replied, "I took her out earlier today."

Dylan watched the dog squirm, soft whimpers escaping from Piper's mouth. "Mom, when was the last time Piper was out?"

She stopped twisting and looked at her son. "Who's the parent, here?"

"Apparently, I am." Dylan snapped the dog's leash to Piper's collar and exited the flat. After three minutes, the rain beginning to come down, Dylan returned and continued, "How is it I'm more responsible than you?" He was hoping this would lead to a conversation where he didn't reveal Bryce.

"You are talking to your mother, young man," she replied back, leaning down to eject the tape from the VCR. "Now tell me what's wrong."

Dylan scoffed, unhooking Piper from her leash. "Nothing's wrong, Mom."

"I don't usually get calls from you at five in the morning because you wanted to tell me 'I love you'." Mrs. Matthews smiled wearily, watching Piper trot past her towards the kitchen. "Though it is a nice treat." She proceeded towards the kitchen for some water, calling over her shoulder, "Now what's wrong?"

"Nothing wr..." Dylan trailed off, realising he'd trapped himself by the call he'd made. He watched his mother return with a cup of water in both hands, placing one down on the coffee table for him. Dylan, after a moment, whispered, "Yeah, I need help."

"What is it?" she asked softly, sitting down slowly on the couch's arm.

Dylan sat down in the chair opposite her, separated, again, by the ottoman. He chuckled, his anxious fingers tapping against his legs, before stating, "Well, my trip was a success, – "

"You're beating around the bush, sweetheart," Mrs. Matthews noticed.

He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I-I know," he whimpered, leaning back into his chair. "It's just...really hard for me to say."

The sound of someone knocking at the door immediately followed his words. "One second, sweetie," she whispered. His mother stood and disappeared into the hall before reappearing. "Tom's back," she noted, smiling slightly, retrieving two potted plants from the windowsill. "I was plant-sitting for him. I'll be back in a second, okay?" Dylan was then forced to listen to the subdued sound of pleasantries between his mother and her neighbour.

He began sinking into his seat, waiting for that tinge of anxiety in his chest that signified a Potential Soulmate.

'It's not there, anymore.'

Mrs. Matthews returned moments later. "Ugh, such a nice boy. I hope he meets his Soulmate – " She didn't complete the thought, seeing her son looking so disheartened in his chair. "Dylan?" Her son simply pulled his collar away. Expecting him to begin complaining about his Glow, she waited for harsh words against his dim Potential Glow.