Everyone has a soulmate. Everyone can count on fate to meet their person.
At twenty-three, I'm beginning to think fate has failed me.
You are usually matched with your soulmate at the same age your parents were matched. According to studies, the probability of you being matched years before or later than they were is less than ten percent. It can deviate a year earlier or a year later, but no more than that. The system follows a pretty straight-lined timeline. It is a predetermined destiny influenced by your ancestors' history.
Your soulmate's parents met around the same year as your parents. It is one of the characteristics that bonds one person to the other.
The easiest way to explain the system is by comparing it to the East Asian belief of "the red thread of fate." The myth states there is an invisible red thread around the finger of those who are destined to meet as they ought to be true love. The system is the equivalent of the lunar matchmaker god, who is in charge of the romantic relationships.
Our familial history partly symbolizes the red thread since it is what creates the initial connection and determines our soulmate. Our changing eye color represents the other half of the red thread as it is what leads us to meet our destined lover. The two people connected by the red thread—or in this case the different eye colors—are soulmates regardless of the place, time, or circumstances. The moment you have met your fated lover and the feeling of love blossoms, your eyes go back to their natural color as you have fulfilled your destiny.
Without the connection of changing eyes, you are not only unable to find your person, but you are also incapable of understanding their heart and establishing an emotional connection.
The different colored eye disappears once you fulfill your destiny because at that point you no longer need the system to justify the relationship for you. In that moment, you are aware of why this is your person and why fate has brought you together.
It is why there is no belief that the system is ever wrong. If a pairing doesn't work, it's because of human error. Our desires—greed, selfishness, lust—interrupted or damaged the connection of true love.
My parents met each other at the age of nineteen. I'm three years past.
Every day I wake up with the hope of looking in the mirror and seeing something else apart from my amber eyes.
Today is another day I am disappointed by my own reflection.
Surprise.
I sigh, taking a moment to accept reality. Any other day, I might have sulked like I usually do every weekend. However, I'm supposed to be meeting my best friend Claudia to help her apartment hunt.
Claudia and I met our freshman year of high school. Meeting at such a pivotal moment of our youth is what I think has allowed us to continue to be friends years later. We have seen each other at our worst both physically and emotionally.
Unfortunately, we weren't one of those girls that graciously go through puberty by the age of fourteen. Instead of being hit by it like a truck, puberty would give us an ounce of progress every year until we were probably twenty. More so, me I think. There are times where I still wonder if maybe there's a little pending glow up.
I mean, this can't be it. Can it?
However, despite claiming the same puberty struggles as me, Claudia has always been slightly ahead. As society's standard of beauty with her blue eyes and blonde hair, she revels in the male attention she gets every time we go out.
Unlike me, Claudia isn't really in a rush to be matched. She enjoys the freedom of the unknown.
Claudia enjoys the game of chasing and ditching.
As they wait to be matched, most people enjoy flings. There is always a mutual understanding that the relationship won't last forever. It is almost an agreement to be friends with benefits. It helps some endure the wait. However, the lines between casual and intimacy can be easily blurred.
My parents have always called me a sensitive soul, a hopeless romantic. From a young age, I've longed for the kind of relationship where your soulmate is more than just that. They are your best friend, your ally, your one and only. It's what keeps me from having flings.
For Claudia, it's different. Her parents love each other and several things about them show why they are soulmates. However, just as many also show why they are each other's worst enemy. Their relationship has been tumultuous, causing her not to entirely believe in the system. And I don't blame her. It's easy to doubt it and hate it sometimes.
There are people who have a casual partner, fall in love and the moment things are going great their match is announced.
You begin to wonder if the system is truly working in your favor or if it functions with an ulterior motive. In my eyes, it's a clear cut recipe for a broken heart.
Brushing my teeth, I think about what to wear. A heat wave is hitting Welford this week and the humidity is starting to settle in. Knowing Claudia, I'm also certain we'll be doing a lot of walking today.
She told me we'd be looking at three apartments which means we'll probably see five.
As an East Coast town, Welford is a place where you can experience all four seasons. Some days you absolutely love that you can see nature change throughout the months. Other days—like today, you can absolutely despise it.
Welford is a small suburb turned city located in the outskirts of Boston, Massachusetts. Mostly everyone ends up going to a college in Boston, Cambridge or Welford. The small minority leave the state. It's one of those towns that once you're born and raised here, it's very unlikely you leave. As a consequence, everybody knows about every breath you take and every decision you make.
Sometimes I dream about leaving Welford. Other times, I am okay with staying, settling in a place I already know. A part of me craves adventure but another is scared of taking that leap.
I loved my childhood here. I loved my college experience here. There's nothing pushing me out but maybe that's why I haven't found my soulmate.
I'm so comfortable staying within these boundaries that I have never given myself the chance to go outside of my comfort zone. I have never given myself the opportunity to experience new things and reflect and grow from them.
If I was a character in a movie or TV series, there would be zero character development to me. What can I contribute to another person when all I know is 0.025% of the United States? When I have put all of my energy into predetermining every new stage of my life.
Growth comes from the unknown. I have become so complacent with my current job, I have never stopped to think what's my next step. It's almost like I have unconsciously decided to spend the rest of my living years there.
My life has been a straight line. And that realization hurts because it has taken me this long to realize I fell victim to the Welford cycle.
All of this time I pitied Claudia for wanting to leave when I should have been pitying myself for wanting to stay in this bubble.
I stare at myself through my vanity mirror. You need adventure, my subconscious tells me.
I haven't gotten the chance to actually live life outside of Welford.
I need get to know the unknown to become the person I'm supposed to be, to become the person my soulmate is supposed to meet.
A text from Claudia interrupts my train of thought.
Claudia: Here
I quickly grab one of my crossbody bags, pushing my wallet and a hair tie into it. I decide to leave my light brown hair down as it still looked presentable from the curls I had from the day before. It also made me look put together despite the lack of effort put into my outfit. I chose to wear a white ribbed mini dress with a pair of black high top converse.
It's not ideal to wear sneakers on a day as hot as this but it is the comfiest pair of shoes I own for all the walking that awaits me.
Claudia is one of the few who will end up leaving Welford. Her parents' hot and cold relationship made for an unstable childhood which she associates the town with. I think that her moving outside of Welford to another neighboring city is her way of making sure she never ends up having a relationship like her parents'.
It gives her the sense of control the system has taken away from us.
I leave my little shoebox apartment, rushing down the stairs as I put on my sunglasses.
"Hey," I say as I open the passenger door.
"Are you ready?" Claudia smiles with excitement which truthfully scares me and makes me reconsider my agreeing to do this with her.
"So excited," I force the fakest smile, causing her to roll her eyes and sink her shoulders as she drives off to our first destination. "I'm kidding but please be honest with me. Is it actually only three apartments? I need to mentally prepare myself."
"It's actually three, don't worry."
I sigh in relief. "Ok, good. I wasn't sure if my feet would make it through today. I worked overtime at the bakery all of this week."
I manage our long time family friend's bakery. Jane has been like a grandmother to me growing up. At an older age, she has begun to struggle keeping up with the store.
After graduating college earlier this summer with a major in art history, it's been difficult to find a job and choose something I'll enjoy. In the meantime, I have agreed to take a managerial role at the bakery. Having worked for Jane since high school and all throughout college, I made the transition easier on her. She trusted me to make decisions, allowing her to take a back seat.
After all the years of working with her, I have perfected her recipes and even introduced new ones she approved of. She's a fan of the cinnamon and walnut coffee cake muffins and the apple crumble cup tart.
Every night, I make the doughs for all of our pastries and breads so when I come in at 6:00 a.m., I only have to pop them into the oven and have them ready for our 8:00 a.m. crowd. It's a therapeutic time for me. The bakery is completely silent and I'm able to decompress and let out any feelings while preparing my bakes. Often times, I'll play some music or listen to a podcast to have a resemblance of company. For the most part, it's a safe place for me. I'm only required to focus on the pastries and myself.
Thankfully as the manager of the store, I get the attic-turned-studio apartment at the top of the establishment. I like having my own space despite how small it may be. It gives me independence from my parents.
My dream job post-graduation had always been to be a conservationist at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. I was drawn to the museum after finding out about the theft that took place in March of 1990. Two men posing as police officers responding to a disturbance call fooled the guards into allowing them entrance to the museum in the middle of the night. Once inside the thieves tied up the guards and transferred them to the basement, handcuffing them to a steam pipe and workbench. Once upstairs, the thieves stole thirteen works valued at $200 million at the time. Today, they are probably worth close to half a billion. Many theorize the Boston mafia was involved but to this day, the case remains unsolved. For years, the museum has offered a $10 million reward in hopes that the works are returned.
The history of the museum fascinates as much as the works displayed. Whenever the stress of undergraduate classes became too much, I would take the train into Boston and spend hours getting familiar with the artwork.
One of my favorite paintings is John Singer Sargent's El Jaleo, which took Isabella 30 years to acquire. She even gutted the museum's two story music room, building the Spanish Cloister just for the painting before even owning it. That renovation was ultimately the reason she eventually was gifted the work.
I had volunteered at other Boston art museums throughout college and had even managed to get a post-grad internship at the Museum of Fine Arts. Unfortunately, the opportunity was unpaid and as great as it would have looked in my resume, it was something I couldn't afford to do, leading me to settle for the bakery job. I still have hope that one day I will have enough money saved to get an apprenticeship and do what I love most.
I often imagine my future home decorated with historical art pieces that will fascinate my guests, effortlessly complementing the rest of the decor. My children growing up with the same fascination as their mother, entertaining our family friends with fun facts about the artwork around the house. Their own work hanging next to the works of historical artists. I would become my own version of Isabella Gardner, fostering the arts through support of local museums and the discovery of talented new painters.
Maybe in a different reality, I would be able to afford that dream. One of the cheapest paintings from the surrealism movement—which is relatively recent—is Picasso's 1960 Natural Morte which sold for $118,000 at an auction in 2014. That's more than I would ever make in the next five years.
Claudia brings me back, giving me a rundown of our first stop. "Our first stop is a small studio in Mid Cambridge. The landlord said to just walk in to the apartment since it should be open. We just need to be buzzed in downstairs."
"Is Cambridge your top location?" I ask her.
"I would say it's my only one. All three apartments today are there. I love it. It's such a young city." She raves. "I'm still considering Boston though."
"I'll miss you."
"I'll be a thirty minute drive away, silly. Forty tops."
"I know, let me be dramatic. You won't be within a five mile radius from me anymore."
She drops her hand from the steering wheel and holds mine, giving it a squeeze.
I want to be selfish and wish for her to change her mind but I understand that this is the best decision for her. Claudia is a social butterfly. She'll enjoy the process of getting to know a city, finding herself.
It is also a teaser to what my life can look like if I take a risk.
We circle around the neighborhood a few times, looking for parking. Claudia gets lucky and pulls up to a space as the driver backs out. It's a few blocks away from the apartment but it's the best we'll find on a weekend.
I get out of the car, removing my sunglasses for a second. "Lead the way."
Claudia looks at me, her eyes widening. "You fucking bitch." She gasps. "You didn't tell me?!"
"What are you talking about?" I frown, completely lost.
She grabs my arms and shakes me. "Your eyes! You found out."
My frown deepens.
It's not possible. Before I left the house, there was no change.
All of a sudden a moment I have been dying for all of my life has become a moment I feel entirely unready for.
Claudia turns me around, pushing me to bend down and look at myself through the car's side mirror.
Left eye: amber color.
Right eye: grey color.
"I—" I stutter, fully standing back up. "I swear they weren't like this before I left the apartment." I turn to face her, still in a state of shock.
"What are you waiting for?" Claudia practically yells at me. "Find out who it is!"
Her reaction is what I expected from myself: the child-like giddiness, the innocent excitement and anticipation of finally getting answers. The opportunity to start looking forward to love. Instead, I'm filled with dread. All of a sudden I feel like a teenage who swore she was an adult until faced with a circumstance where she feels anything but capable of making her own decisions.
"I'm scared." I confess, biting my lower lip.
"Lennon, c'mon. You've been waiting for this every single day since you turned nineteen. Just do it."
I nod, trying to find the will to do it. Claudia gives me an encouraging nod as I take a deep breath and cover my left eye. The Cambridge neighborhood street slowly blurs before turning black and changing into a different setting.
My right eye takes a second to focus. As soon as it does, I see a library? Tall shelves almost reaching the tall ceiling are filled with countless books.
Hard spines of all colors decorate the room. The detailed carvings of the bookshelves enhance the beauty of the books. The lines weave in out of each other before meeting a coat of arms—family crest—of some sort about every two feet.
The crest has a lion standing up and showing its claws. Its majestic conviction is emphasized by the two gold-covered swords crossing behind it with what I think is a crown standing above the animal.
The decoration seems antiquated. Almost as if I have travelled back in time to the 1900s. My mind struggles to decipher the place, confused and overwhelmed with everything I'm seeing.
Immense windows with regal looking curtains bring natural light into the space.
The walls of the room are painted a soft nude color almost as a way to create peace in a room that often causes chaos.
There is a desk facing the biggest window in the room with an opened laptop, papers scattered all around it. Many have handwritten notes all throughout the margins and typed paragraphs that are hard to read from where I stand. Even so, the cursive lettering is elegant, neat, masculine. Some of them hold angry strokes, others are softer. Is it possible for handwriting to exude authority? It somehow matches the energy of the room as ridiculous as it sounds.
The dark brown furniture and the dark red rug placed in the middle of the room are the only contrast to the otherwise soft color palette.
The arched piece of glass overlooks acres and acres of green land. The weather seems gloomy outside with no sunlight to brighten the mood of the setting.
It's almost like there are other factors beyond the weather that influencing the mood of the room. Whoever he is, I get a sense of misery, stress or loneliness; like he feels suffocated despite the grandeur encompassed within these four walls.
Who are you?
I try to focus my sight on something that will give me a hint when my attention is diverted.
From the corner of my eye, I see a hand reach out and my heart races at the sight.
Tanned skin. Black soft tux sleeves. A hint of white peaking above it. Gold cufflinks engraved with the same unknown crest from the bookshelves.
Unfortunately, I'm distracted before I can understand those feelings deeper. The hot and humid weather of Massachusetts sinks into my skin, bringing me back to my reality.
"So? What did you see?!" Claudia brings me back.
"I—It was a library room?" My tone conveys my confusion. I saw so much, but so little at the same time.
Claudia frowns, also confused now. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I mean the room had all these books. There was a glass window looking into a green field but the room was too big for me to focus on one thing."
"So do you think he's a businessman? A master's student? Some useless governor's son? Oh!" She gasps. "I hope it's a Kennedy."
"I really have no clue." I run my hand through my hair, getting ready to pace.
I should be relieved the day I have impatiently waited for is finally here. Instead, I find myself frustrated. This person obviously has to do hold some status. It definitely wasn't a public library and not everyone can afford to have a private library room like that.
How the hell does the system plan for me to meet him? Will he even care enough to look for me? He might be in a position to have everything and everyone at his disposal. Why would he bother?
It's not fair of me to impose a bias and such stereotypes on him. I know that. But I can't help it.
It's clear he's not located in Massachusetts, at least not the Boston-Cambridge area. We currently have an incredibly hot summer day and in my vision it was rainy and dark.
"Hey, why do you look upset? You've been waiting for this day for ages." Claudia interrupts my downward spiral.
"I'm just a bit frustrated." I answer honestly, sighing. "It's fine though. Let's get started with your apartment hunting. That's what today is about."
I try to put on a front, putting my sunglasses back on. Claudia doesn't seem happy with my deflection but takes it.
If there is one thing I'm sure about is that he lives in some sort of estate. The coat of arms throughout the room is my most valuable clue as to who he could be. Searching it online will be my best bet at getting some answers. The question is what would I do with those answers. I feel like the ground has given in and I'm suddenly falling, being swallowed by this never-ending black hole.
My parents. I have to tell them.
A headache begins to settle in as I think about that conversation. It's not that I'm afraid of them not being supportive. It's that they'll ask questions I don't have answers to and don't know when I will.
If I could get away with it, I would not share the match with them for as long as possible. I know that would hurt Mom because I tell her everything, but for the first time in my life, I wish I could keep it a secret.
I don't know if this reluctance would exist had it been some guy I randomly crossed paths with in the past. Annoying Declan from my undergrad CHEM 101 class sophomore year or shy Robert from my high school English class senior year. Someone I would feel comfortable with because of the familiarity of having known him or parts of him. It's almost like the universe is playing a sick joke on me.
My match represents everything I have avoided my entire life: lack of control. Maybe this is my sign to step out of the Welford cycle and take a risk for once in my life.
But, I suddenly feel unprepared like a bird leaving its nest a little too soon, unable to expertly fly.
++++
after taking an incredibly long hiatus, i'm back! i hope you guys enjoy this story and the more mature side of my writing.
please let me know your thoughts as you read through. i enjoy reading them and they truly help me continue to write the story.
as always, thank you. x