Gia Raquel

I have a theory. In between all the God-like creatures, the aliens, the humans, the insects, the bacteria, there is this intermingling of not-so-randomized connections we are meant to find somehow, someway. Not exactly destiny, not exactly free-will.

Soulmates. The notion where we are meant to meet certain people through the actions we take. Two halves making one whole of what you feel like your life is supposed to be and what it needs to be. Lovers to touch-and-go strangers, there they are, with just as intricate, passionate, destructive forces pushing them.

We live our lives and sometimes forget how we get there.

I can only recall piece by piece, sometimes not at all. I am here, looking him in the eye for the first time. He won’t look away, but neither will I. Silent. Staring. Unmoving.

His nose was big. A bit like a cartoon, yet attractive all the same. Uneven eyebrows, no facial hair, but full head of hair, even though he was scared of losing it all. You could try to convince yourself that his eyes were a bright type of brown, but bright couldn’t capture the curiosity, ferocity, or anguish causing them to cross in exhaustion. He closed them for more than a few seconds periodically, thoughts intangible and out of reach to me and seemingly him as well. I wanted to dip my fingers inside, as if actually touching his figments of imagination would grant me access to the rest of who he was.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

“When I was young, I knew how to fly.”

“What?”

“There’s a person for everything I’ve told someone, but only a few people know this. When I was young, I could fly. You probably don’t believe me, people usually don’t. But it’s true.”

How could I tell him I believed him without sounding like I didn’t? I looked up from my seat and saw the time. 1:13 a.m. The bustle of the 24-hour diner had died down to a few college students procrastinating with friends or just sitting alone, eating away at food they’re not actually hungry for. I had decided to go out on a whim, knowing I had too much work to do, but feeling the weight of no motivation sink its way through my skin. I set my bag down, prepared to convince myself I would get through my homework quickly and sleep soon enough. Tuesdays are tiring. I just needed to get through this and I could go to bed. The day would stop spinning and I can stop thinking for just a little.

I’ve seen him walking around campus, hearing his name like a whisper behind backs. Nothing bad. Nothing good. Just, there.

So much there.

“Ask me more questions,” he said. “I have a lot to say, but only if you ask.”

I leaned in the booth I took a seat in fifteen minutes prior. My bag, pressing against my leg, books packed away and ignored. I was tired. I am tired. But it’s the reason why I had the courage to go up to him and say hello. I apologized, “Sorry, I know this is random, but I always see you everywhere. I’ve just had a really long day.” And he looked up from his laptop, eyes wide like a child taking in the world. “Me too.” So of course I had to ask why. I love talking to people I don’t know. How else do you find a soulmate?

“Who are you?”

“I don’t know.”

“You remind me of someone I know.” He did. I hooked up with someone over the summer with the same speech patterns as him. Different races, different homes, same style of talking. I didn’t know whether I liked that or not.

“That’s funny. I’m not myself right now. Not lately, at least. Ever since I got to this campus I’ve been different. I sleep through everything. Miss everything. Don’t do anything. I don’t know who I am, I’m just breathing and absorbing and going through whatever I’m going through. I think I’m depressed? I bought a skillet and a carton of eggs, but never wake up early enough to make them. I love eggs.”

I never woke up early enough to make eggs.

“What are you going through?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a crisis? Maybe this is what happens when you start college?” His voice rose every so slightly, I felt like the rest of the diner could hear even though there was no one left. Only the waitress remained, sitting beside the cash register reading a book.

“Who are you?”

“I have no idea, but I know I don’t like her.”

“Why don’t you like her?”

“She’s mean. Violent, even. I choked someone last month because they pushed me too far. I feel restless, like a nomad that was never supposed to leave home but didn’t really have a choice.”

“Where is home?”

“Doesn’t exist,” I say immediately.

He looked at me, again with those wide eyes. He didn’t say a word and neither did I. It felt like a challenge as opposed to being offered comforting silence. His energy bending against my energy, two forces of nature meeting. Distressful. Delicious.

“Where did it go?”

“Home is always a person for me. It’s awful, I don’t recommend this. But I make myself a home in someone I love and I’m currently homeless.”

More so, an eviction. But he doesn’t need to know that. As of right now, his mind is forming me into a person rather than a two-dimensional background character of his life. As of right now, my mind is trying to convince herself that she is more than a statistic. That the fact that one in five females who get sexually assaulted in college could not possibly encompass my hours of dissociation, discomfort, disgust.

An eviction, yes. A self-eviction. Because as of right now, who could love a body that forgets how to fight back?

“I guess I’m homeless too.” More staring. More silence

“What’s the meaning of life?” I ask.

“God, I hate that question. Meaning? There is no meaning! I can’t even imagine myself past 30. We live, we breathe, then we die. The world ends when we close our eyes. That’s all.”

“The world doesn’t just end. The world goes on with or without you! You die, but people move on. They have to.”

“No, no, not like that. We all have our own worlds. You live in a world different than my own. I am the main character of my world, and once I close my eyes, it’s done. It stops until I come back.”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Was he just conceded? He didn’t seem like the type. Then again, I’ve only known him for – I look at the clock again, 2:08 – an hour or so. He doesn’t even know who he is, how could I?

“Can I ask you something?”

“That seems to be the only thing we’ve done.”

“I guess you’re right,” I nod. “Do you have a cold? You keep on trying to breathe and all I hear is your stuffed nose.”

He paused to think. “You know, I don’t have allergies so I’m not very sure-”

I cut him off. “You’re not sure about a lot of things.”

One look turns into a stare so easily with him. I liked it. Who was I to him? Nobody. But this, this night was everything. Human connection comes and goes like dreams we forget to write down. The kind where you don’t have to think twice about trusting them because somehow you were supposed to meet and the words you give were never meant for you to keep.

I broke the silence. “You make a lot of eye contact.”

He looked away. I regretted saying that.

“I’ve never been told that before.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

He twisted his mouth to the side, a little twitch of a smile shadowing his face. He’s good looking when he smiles. He’s good looking when he doesn’t. I wouldn’t have thought that unless I spoke to him.

“If a tree falls and no one is there to hear it, to see it, to validate its existence, does it actually fall?”

“Of course it does,” I reply.

“Existence doesn’t need validating. Existence happens.”

I don’t need your validation to exist. I have my own validation. Even though I really want yours. I want you to remember this as well as I will.

I am not a tree. Trees probably don’t feel all of this.

“Nope. That fucker’s gone. Not there.”

“You said you used to fly, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Did anyone see you fly?”

“No, but I did. I was there to see myself.”

“The tree is there to see itself. You were there to see yourself. Who am I to say the tree didn’t fall, or that you didn’t fly?”

He looked at me as if there was a catch to my words. I look at the clock, 3:27. It’s getting late. My head feels pressurized. Someone is pushing against my temples until I give in and go to my dorm room. I don’t want to go back. I want to see what kind of home he is.

“Did you have to run first or could you just levitate?”

“Levitate. As high as my house.”

“What was it like?”

“I don’t know. Honestly, I only vividly remember the day I realized I couldn’t fly anymore. It was terrible. I’m pretty sure I cried. I guess the adults finally got to me.”

“Peter Pan grew up, huh?”

“In that aspect, you could say. I don’t really feel that grown up.”

“You’re still young.”

“No, but like, I feel like I’m on a break from my life. I got here and it’s as if I don’t know how I used to talk, used to act. I got here and I’m supposed to behave like these are the big leagues. But I’m just fading. I’m fading.”

He said it the second time, more to himself, like a realization he had just had at this wooden diner table. The bright red leather booths were illuminated by the one light-bulb above us. The fries he had ordered were cold, but he played with them as if they were never food to begin with.

“You’re not fading.”

“How do you know that?” Fear. Anger?

“Because if you’re fading, then I’m already gone.” “You don’t even know me. How can you make that comparison?”

“Because we’re soulmates.”

He opened his mouth, ready to object. Probably about to argue against destiny and soulmates and everything in between.

“I was supposed to meet you today. Not yesterday or tomorrow. I’m tired and I don’t know how to articulate myself at all, so I apologize. But we don’t know who we are and we won’t be the same people in the future, but we were supposed to meet under the weird and shitty circumstances we have now.”

“Destiny, fate, that stuff doesn’t exist. There are so many multi-verses, everything has to happen. We’re just one of the results.”

“And we’re living those results. Doesn’t that take a little something more than us? If you could fly then why is this so far-fetched?”

He stared at me again. We didn’t speak for a while.

“I used to hate the color yellow. But I love it now. I own a lot of yellow things.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve never told anybody that.”

4:32 a.m.

 

I saw glimpses of him on campus. Never long enough to talk, or to even acknowledge. He was there, then he wasn’t. I went back to the diner later that month, hoping to run into him. As I claimed a table, he was on his way out. I looked at him for his entire walk. Lanky arms, tall legs, voice so distant I could hardly remember what he sounded like that night. His eyes landed on mine and he gave me a brief smile, quickly fading as he pushed open the door. My smile faded, too He’s a soulmate, alright. Whoever he was.