I was five years old when I found out what the numbers on our wrists were. It was whispered about on the playground, imparted in the same hushed tones that would share bad words, or question the existence of Santa Claus, or discuss where babies really came from.
My best friend’s big brother had just hit one of his dates, at 13. The day he met his soulmate, a boy in the year above him at his new school.
At five, we didn’t use the word “soulmate”. The way Anna explained it to us was instead: “One of them is the day you finish your biggest goal, one of them is when you meet your true love, and one of them is when you’re gonna… die.” That last word was whispered, but we all still heard it and felt how ominous it was.
We compared our dates, because of course we did. Counting on our fingers how far away the dates were. Some of them were close together, some where not. My numbers were special, being all the same day. What a day that would be. But 26 sounded so very far away.
As I grew up, I realized that 26 was not really very old, though. For a while, I felt very put upon. It wasn’t fair that I was going to hit all three milestones within a minute of each other. Not even getting a chance to enjoy my success or my true love before it was time for me to die.
I was there when Anna met her husband to be. We were 19, and she had been talking about nothing else for like a month in advance. But we got lost in conversation, and when he knocked on her shoulder to hand her something she had dropped, she didn’t know what time it was.
But as she turned to face him, I saw the numbers light up on both of their wrists for a moment, and then fade away. And I knew. Of course, I could’ve told by the looks on their faces as well, they were ridiculously and immediately besotted. I don’t know if it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy or not, that priming yourself to meet your soulmate might make you more open to it when it happens, but I’ve seen it happen enough times to know that it’s the real deal either way.
It’s kind of strange, knowing what your life expectancy is like. The people with years ahead of them plan differently than the people who know they’re going to die young. I dated a bit, but never got serious. I’ve seen plenty of people have good relationships with people who are not their soulmates, perhaps even marriage and children, knowing that their soulmates are years away still.
But for me, I never got super into any relationship. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. And kids were never an option for me. Not that I didn’t want them, but leaving them motherless so young seemed cruel.
So I threw myself into my work. For me, my goal was to write a story that had a real impact on someone else’s life. A lot of the people I knew who were destined to die young had goals like mine, wanting to leave some kind of lasting impact on the world.
Researching my story, I made contact with a brilliant surgeon named Kathryn. She lived in another city, but we had a good online relationship. She was funny and smart, and didn’t treat me like I was crazy when I came with her with strange medical hypotheticals to work out for my story.
I put her first in the list of people I wanted to dedicate the book to, and invited her to the big release party, and to my surprise she said yes. I hadn’t told her it was on my date. I hadn’t told anyone about my dates for a long time.
I sat at a little table to sign my book for anyone who wanted it, and my publisher’s daughter came up, clutching the book to her chest and with a look of awe on her face that made me smile to myself.
“Miss Daren? I just wanted to tell you, this book changed how I look at myself, and…”
She kept talking, but I could barely hear her, because I noticed one of my dates had just flashed up and then faded away on my arm. So this is it, I thought to myself, as I smiled at the girl and signed her book when she offered it to me. My life’s goal all out of the way.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned around just to come face to face with the most gorgeous woman I had ever seen. Tall and dark, with her braided hair in an advanced style and wearing an amazing red dress. I recognized her immediately from the photos I’d seen of her online.
“Kathryn?” I sighed, both so happy to finally see her in person and realize that hey, I actually got to know my soulmate, just without knowing that that was who she was, and at the same time so angry at a world that would give me such perfect happiness just to snatch it away. Angry at a world that would make me hurt her like this.
She had seen the numbers flash up on both of our arms and then fade away. She was smiling at me, and I wanted to be happy, but all I could say was “I’m so sorry,” before the stress of the moment, combined with an unknown congenital defect in my heart made the darkness rise up from behind my eyes and claim me.
And then something I never expected happened.
I woke up in a hospital room full of beeping machines and strange smells, and there was Kathryn in a chair next to my bed, still in that red dress and looking simply amazing, although kind of tired.
“How?” I managed to ask. “I was supposed to–”
“I know,” she whispered, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently. “Technically, you did. Luckily for both of us, I am very good at my job.”
“I never realized that it was even possible.”
“It’s rare, but it happens. Us surgeons are a stubborn bunch, and if we have to wrench you out of the hands of Death himself, then we will.”
I turned my arm over and looked at my wrist. A new number. Almost 80 years in the future. I took Kathryn’s hand, turned it over. Saw her one remaining number.
“We’re going to die together,” I said, disbelievingly.
“Only when we’re really old,” she replied.
And after a few moments, we both started laughing. And we laughed until we cried, and then laughed some more.
I can’t believe I get to grow old with her. I can’t believe I’m so lucky.
Perhaps sometimes, the world gets it right.
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