I am thinking about The Mysterious Benedict Society as Soulmates.
I am thinking about a world where when you find your chosen few, they leave colour on your skin. A kind of permanent tattoo, a sign that sings, hey, hey, don't you know? We belong together.
There's something so lovely about it, in my mind. These characters who are all alone, and the way they find each other.
I am thinking about Reynie Muldoon, who is this kid who grows up picked on and outcasted. This kid who fears being alone more than anything in the world. A soulmate is a promise of the opposite, right? It means that somebody out there is going to love you. I think Reynie thinks a lot about it, late at night before he meets the rest of the society. Hoping that he'll somehow mean enough to someone to leave a mark.
I'm thinking about Kate, with the palm of her left hand painted a faded grey. Once upon a time, it shone turquoise. Soulmates are just people, in the end. They can fall out of love just as easily as they fall into it, and Kate plays it blithe but it hurts. Of course it does. The colourless mark is just one more sign that her father left her behind.
(I am thinking about Milligan, who loved his baby girl so much. I am thinking about the first time they touched, with her small pudgy fist wrapped around his finger, and the colour that blossomed between them. I am thinking about Milligan looking at this one faded mark, and when Reynie asks him what keeps him going in the face of hopelessness, he still says duty, but he also says them, whoever left this-)
(When you are brainswept, you lose yourself, and you lose the people that help make you whole. Do you understand? All the helpers are swathed in grey.)
I am thinking of Sticky curling over himself to look at his back in the mirror in his childhood home, and realising with a slack sort of dread that his parent's marks are paling. I am thinking of Sticky staring too long in the courtyard at Kate's charcoal grey hand, and refusing to look at his back anymore because he doesn't want to see his own marks reflecting hers. He doesn’t want to face the fact that his parents fell out of love with him.
I am thinking about Constance, who bears no marks on her small frame and then collects a half dozen of them. I am thinking about the twins, about Nicholas Benedict, who is positively painted in soulmarks, and Curtain, who wears gloves and has only one singular mark that he hides and keeps secret. I'm thinking about love and how vulnerable it is, to have it written on your skin.
(Not sure when or how, but I want Mr. Benedict to tell each of the children that soulmates are a choice. Always and always and always. You can always choose to hold onto someone and love them. Of course you can. Love is defined by what you make of it.)
