Soulmated

by Shaila Patel

  My feet were pounding the floor before the bell had finished ringing. I made it down to the locker rooms just as the girls started leaving. Shiney came out alone, her forehead creased.

  I grabbed her arm. “Where’s Lucky? What happened? Is she sick?” I opened my mind to Shiney.

  Some giggling cheerleaders stepped out of the locker room. Shiney glared at them and pulled me to the other side of the hallway. “She went home. Coach got her signed out because she was so upset.”

  “Why? Shiney, you’ve got to be telling me, please.”

  “She overheard two cheerleaders saying all kinds of stuff about her. They said the only reason the drill team allowed her to help them was because Bailey was a lesbian and liked her. Then they made fun of her being Indian and wondered if she’d bring a cobra to school, saying she was a snake charmer, if you know what I mean.”

  I balled my hands into fists. My insides felt like molten lava. “Go on.”

  She bit her lips and looked down. “They made fun of your nickname for her, insinuating all kinds of things that you really meant with the word lucky. And they said you’d told Chloe you were just out to get lucky at tomorrow night’s party. That if Laxshmi didn’t live up to your nickname for her, you’d dump her. Chloe’s apparently all ready for that to happen.”

  “Bloody lies, Shiney. They’re all lies.” I cursed under my breath and rushed toward the exit. “I’m going after her now,” I called out over my shoulder.

  I slipped out the side entrance and ran home. Damn Lucky’s mobile issues. A stitch in my side burned by the time I got to her house. I rang the bell and pounded on the door. She was home—her sadness was washing over me—but she wasn’t answering. Why was she hiding herself? Was she believing what they’d said about me? Christ. What more could bloody get in our way?

  If only I’d been thinking straight, I could’ve borrowed Shiney’s mobile—Lucky’s mum would’ve recognized her number. I looked down the street in the direction of the school. Should I be going back? Lucky’s pain was overwhelming. She needed me. I couldn’t be leaving her alone.

  I rushed to my house, grabbed the ladder, and climbed to the roof from my parents’ veranda. I could see Lucky sitting on her window seat. Her sheer curtains fluttered from the open window.

  I cupped my hands around my mouth. “Lucky!”

  Her head jerked up in surprise, but then she threw her legs off the seat, turning her back to me. Her pain sliced me open like the jaws of a shark.

  “Lucky, I know you can hear me. Talk to me, or I’ll be staying here all night.”

  She turned to face me, resting her hand on the window, and shook her head. I focused my enhanced vision across the distance. She had a bunched-up tissue in her hand. Even with tears and a red nose, she was stunning.

  “You can’t be listening to anything they said. You know they’re just ignorant, jealous racists.”

  She covered a sob. I pressed my fists against my eyes. She didn’t deserve this. When I looked at her again, she was opening her window wider. She cupped her hands around her mouth. “Not now. I can’t.”

  If she couldn’t share this with me, what did it mean? That she believed their lies?

  She disappeared, closing the window and curtains. I slumped against the chimney and looked past her house toward the school. Should I go back and find the scrubbers who’d done this? I couldn’t bear to leave Lucky though. If I kept sending her my love, maybe she’d not feel so bad. What else could I do?

  Two hours later, Lucky’s mum pulled up into their driveway, earlier than usual. At least Lucky wouldn’t be on her own, but I’d have no chance to visit her now. I leaned my head into my hands.

  Not but a few minutes after, the diesel engine of Da’s classic Mercedes grew louder as he drew near. The car door slammed, and Da began yelling. “This is just what we’ve been looking for. Now where’s that book, Moira? Where have you put it? Let me see the book!”

  The front door slammed, and I climbed down to see why Da was sounding like there was a bit of a hooley kicking off.

  Since I’d come back from the hotel, Da and I had been avoiding each other. Mostly, that meant Da packing up and researching with a colleague two hours away at Belmont Abbey College. His friend was a medieval studies professor who had an interest in Irish lore. Could they have discovered something about the joining?

  I reached the front room and found Da dancing around like he’d gone off his nut, waving the book of poetry he’d given me.

  “What the hell are you about?” I asked.

  “Your ma told me our Laxshmi finished it.”

  The poem?

  Before I could ask any more, Mum came down the stairs, and Da grabbed her arms, twirling her around. “Ahh, a ghrá! A thaisce! Where’s the letter, love? We’ve got to get eyes on it.”

  “Patrick, what’s this all about?” she asked, her face pink and her eyes twinkling. “What letter, darling?”

  He held her closer, poetry book still in hand, and hummed a waltz. “The letter I had you hide what is it—twelve years ago now. Don’t tell me you’re not remembering. I mailed a letter to the house and asked for it to be hidden where I’d never lay eyes on it until the time was right. And it’s right.” He held up the poetry book again.

  “Goodness, Patrick. I’d completely forgotten.”

  “What letter would this be?” I asked. Was this about getting proof?

  “Liam!” Letting go of Mum, he came around the sofa and grasped my shoulders. “You did it! You did it!” He wasn’t guarding his emotions, so it was hard not to get caught up in his joy.

  All I could do was hug him back. “Is this about Lucky?”

  Ignoring me, he stepped back to Mum, still beaming. “Moira, you’re still standing when it’s off to the hiding hole you should be.”

  “Oh, yes, I believe I tucked the note between the pages of one of my books.” She ran her finger along the spines of her textbooks on psychology and pulled out a thick volume that she handed to him. “Here you are—a book you would never open in a million years.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The Psychological Considerations for the Patient-Family Dynamic in Treating Addictions? You’re slagging me.” He fanned the pages, found the envelope, and handed me a letter addressed to me.

  Mum came over to my side.

  “Why did he put it in a letter?” I whispered to her.

  “When is he not eccentric, darling?”

  I opened the envelope to find a note written in his hand. I read it aloud.

  To my dear son, Liam,

  It’s a happy man I’ll die if I can lead you to this bliss. The young lady who writes these two lines will be the one to share your joys, your sorrows, and your days.

  And wings that leave their cages,

  Find a love to span the ages.

  Find it in yourself to push aside your fears and spread your wings.

  With all the love a father could have,

  Patrick Whelan

  Dublin

  28 August 2001

  I couldn’t take my eyes off the letter. “You knew about this since I was six?” I asked Da.

  “I couldn’t be letting anything muck this up for you, son. If you knew, you might coax a girl into writing this even if she wasn’t The One, or maybe you’d let something slip and a girl too keen on you might have found out and used it, eh?” He put a hand on my shoulder. “You had the right of it all along. Your Lucky is the love of your life—your soul mate, your mo shíorghrá. She’ll be the mother of your children—our grandchildren! What a story we’ll have to tell.” He left me and dashed off to the kitchen, taking Mum with him, asking how many grandchildren she was wanting.

  My Lucky.

  I slouched on the sofa, staring at the ceiling fan and watching the spinning blades go nowhere. How could I celebrate when Lucky was miserable and alone? My insides ached to be with her. When could we tell her mum about us? I fingered her ponytail holder.r />
  Da came back with a Guinness for each of us. He stopped and stared at me. “Why are you pulling such a long face as that? We’re celebrating. You’re done, Liam. You found your soul mate.”

  “Lucky won’t see me. I don’t know what to do.”

  He put one of the bottles in my hand and slapped me across the back of my head. “What in bleeding blazes have you been doing to make everything go arsewise? I hand you your soul mate, and you’re making a dog’s dinner out of it.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Da. I didn’t do anything.”

  He settled next to me. “Fine. Out with it—the whole bleeding story.” Holding my beer, I told him everything. He listened, sipping his Guinness and frowning. When I got to the end of it, he gave a nod. “‘Who could refrain, that had a heart to love, and in that heart, courage, to make his love known?’”

  “Shakespeare, Da? Really?”

  He held up his Guinness. “Sláinte.”

  We clinked our bottles and drank. He kept reminiscing, giving me highlights of the shite I’d endured over the years—as if they’d been pleasant memories. Da said he’d be staying up late to ring the family so they’d be getting the news over their breakfast tea. They’d be more than happy for us, no doubt. When Mum reminded Da to be telling them to keep the news in the family for now, Da finally shut his gob.

  After a few minutes of blissful silence, he turned to me. “Saved your life, your Lucky has,” he said. He raised his bottle and tapped mine. Not more than a sip passed my lips.

  “And now her life is in danger,” I said. The tether between my heart and hers burned, needing attention, but I had no idea how to be helping her. I’d been sending her my love, not knowing if she could sense me from this distance. It was all I could be thinking to do.

  “She’s a Whelan now,” Da said. “We’ll be protecting her like family.”

  The thought warmed my heart. I held out my left hand and flexed my fingers. They almost tingled just from the memory of touching her.

  Da nudged my shoulder. “What’s that? Imagining a wedding band on your finger, are you?”

  “It’s her touch I’m thinking about. When we touch, our skin tingles like we’re passing some sort of charge between us. Sometimes I can be feeling it with just the thought of her. I’m wondering if it’s the same for her.”

  He gave me his deep guttural laugh, implying more than he ever would in front of Mum. “To chemistry, son. To chemistry.”

  Toward the end of dinner, I’d been pushing my food around, thinking of Lucky. Mum asked Da if he’d learned any more about the joining from his latest batch of leads. That was why he’d been visiting his colleague.

  He put down his fork. “Wish I could be bringing home better news, but no. Not a bit.”

  “I’m certain the answers will come, Patrick.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “A few more pints wouldn’t hurt for inspiration, eh, Liam?” Da reached over and tapped his bottle to mine—the same one I’d been working on all this time. When I barely responded, he put his bottle down. “If you’ll not be learning to relax, you’ll explode over this whole situa—” He stood so quickly that his legs hit the table. The silverware rattled and the drinks sloshed.

  Mum stood and caught his arm. “Patrick! What’s wrong?”

  “A charge … ” he mumbled. He had that far-off look in his eyes, the one he’d get when he was thinking about his research. His face paled. He leaned over, supporting himself on the table. “Moira, pack me a weekend bag now if you please.” He looked at his watch. “It’s that Catholic library at Georgetown I’ll be needing again.”

  “But that’s a four-hour drive at the least. Why not leave in the morning?” She placed her napkin beside her plate.

  “I’ll ring Finnerty. He’ll be able to get me access tonight,” Da muttered. Turning to the bookshelves, he grabbed some notebooks. He pushed aside his plate and stacked the binders on the table. “Moira, please. I’d not be asking if it wasn’t important.”

  She sighed and went upstairs.

  “Da? What’s this about?”

  “Tingling, you say?” he asked.

  I nodded. He thumbed through one of his notebooks, found whatever page he was looking for, and ran a finger down the text as he scanned it. “The sky, the Earth, the light … yes, yes.” He tapped the page a few times. “I don’t know as of yet. It’s more details I’m needing, and Finnerty has a priest’s diary from the Middle Ages that’ll be a help.”

  “Is that the one Aunt Finola mentioned when you were translating those Gaelic pages?” I pushed back my chair and stood. “I’ll drive. On the way you can tell me more.”

  “No, no. It’s here with Laxshmi that you’re needed. Besides, all I have just now are hunches, and it’s time I’m needing, to piece them together.”

  “What am I meant to do? Knock on her door and tell her overprotective mum I need to see my soul mate?”

  He came and put his hands on my shoulders. “Do something unexpected. Listen to Shakespeare. You’ve the heart, now find the courage and make your love known. Every waking moment if you have to. Be a lion of a man, Liam. A lion!”

  Da left in a rush, leaving me to help Mum with the dishes. We’d been clearing off the table when she stopped to rest her hand on my arm. She furrowed her brow. “Can you sense her?”

  “I do now. But the connection’s not as strong as earlier. It feels a bit like reading fine print now, rather than a billboard. I’ll not be sleeping well tonight if I don’t see her.”

  Mum moved her hand to my cheek and gave me a small smile. “I am quite certain that you will figure it all out. Leave this, darling.” She nodded toward the table. “Go and do your schoolwork.”

  I headed to my room, running over what schoolwork I’d yet to finish and what I might have missed in last period, when the idea hit me upside the head.

  I’m a genius.

  I bolted upstairs to a shower. I couldn’t smell like steak and beer when I went to Lucky’s house.

  CHAPTER 28

  Lucky

  After my awful afternoon, Mom’s ranting about medical school was a good distraction. I didn’t want to think any more about the catty things those cheerleaders had said. Most of it was trash talk. Chloe had designs on Liam, so it wasn’t too far-fetched to think she’d get her cheer-mates to make me feel bad. It’d been the things they said about Liam using me and then dumping me that hit a nerve. It took every ounce of my faith in Liam to not fall prey to their lies. But it was the tiny smidgen of truth in what they’d said that left me with the doubts plaguing me all afternoon.

  By the time dinner was done, I’d had enough of my mom. I’d made it to the second floor when the doorbell rang.

  I glanced back down to see Mom answering it, leaving the screen door in place. “Yes?”

  “Hello, Mrs. Kapadia, I’m Liam Whelan from two doors down. We moved in next to Mrs. Robertson.”

  I froze. Not even my lungs would work. What was he doing? What if she finds out?

  “Oh, yes. You are in Laxshmi’s history and math class.”

  She couldn’t remember what drill team was called, but she remembered that little nugget of information. I walked halfway down the stairs. What had possessed him to come here? The fine hairs on my arms stood at attention as if anticipating his touch.

  “Yes, that’s right.” The porch light illuminated his dimples and twinkling eyes. He must have been excited to meet her. God, why?

  “Is there something you need?” She unlocked the screen door for him.

  “I left my calculus book in my locker. I was hoping I could borrow Laxshmi’s so I could finish my schoolwork.”

  Hearing him use my real name made me more nervous somehow. What if he slipped and called me Lucky?

  I had slowly made it all the way downstairs when I realized I was in my pajamas—a tank top and teeny-tiny, boxer-style shorts. I looked down and rolled my eyes. They had little rainbows all ov
er. Mom would freak later, of course, but I liked the way Liam’s eyes roamed over me when Mom’s attention was on closing the door.

  “Oh, yes. Come in. Come in. Let me get her.” She turned to call out my name, but stopped when she saw me. Liam flashed me a smile behind her back. Keeping myself from reacting was like trying to hold back five excited Great Danes.

  “Oh, you are here,” she said. “Did you finish your math? He needs your book.”

  “Yeah, sure, I can get it.”

  When Mom turned back around to invite Liam to take a seat, I shot him a what-the-hell-are-you-up-to look.

  He tried to hide a smile by rubbing his cheeks.

  I got to my room and scribbled a note to put inside the book. It was a pretty basic threat—I’d kill him tomorrow. I’d seen him finishing his calculus in my drama class, so why was he really here? Was he expecting to get permission to date me? A sleepover invitation from my warden of virginity?

  I took out the note again and wrote an apology underneath my threat.

  I’m sorry for how I kept us apart.

  I miss you so much it breaks my heart.

  I hid the note in the book, letting it stick out a bit, and headed downstairs. I tiptoed to the second floor and leaned down to see where Mom was. Her back was to the staircase. Liam stood by the fake fireplace, facing me. I sneaked down a few more steps and sat on the stairs to listen, well aware he could see my legs.

  He asked about our family photos and picked up the picture of me dancing. “I didn’t know Laxshmi took Bharatanatyam. Has she finished her Arangetram?”

  My jaw dropped. He’s been doing some research. Mom let out a giggle and discussed our plans for a graduation performance at the end of the school year.

  She motioned to the armchair facing me. “Sit, sit, Liam.”

  She’d holler for me in another minute if I kept stalling—guaranteed. Their interactions surprised me, though, and I wanted to be the fly-on-the-wall for a little longer.