Kenny glanced out the window behind me and then met my stare. “What are we going to do to pass the time?”
“I have drinks. We can play never have I ever.”
A twinkle flashed in her eyes, causing my heart to skip a beat.
Chapter Twelve
Kenny
“Do you believe in soulmates, Kenny?” Drew twirled my hair around his finger, every now and then brushing his knuckle across my cheek.
He had moved to the floor so that we were both in front of the fire—Drew on his back, me next to him on my front, propped up by my elbows while hugging a couch pillow to my chest. The heat had long since died down, making it comfortable and somewhat sedating. It seemed to guide the tone of our conversation well.
“Yeah,” I answered, my voice wispy yet poised. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Drew shrugged as best he could while on his back, one arm tucked behind his head as if it were a pillow. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there are people who don’t believe in the idea of only one person out there who matches you completely.”
“Well, I don’t necessarily believe that. I think we can have many soulmates.”
His eyes narrowed as his forehead creased. “How?”
“I just mean that the term isn’t exclusively romantic. We can have friends, relatives, and lovers as soulmates, which means you can have more than one out there.” I began to doubt my own beliefs the longer he stared at me, brow lined with either confusion or concentration. “I take it you think everyone only has one person?”
“Yeah. Because I believe the definition is in the word—the mate of a soul. Like the mate of a shoe. You can have many pairs of shoes, but each individual one has its own match. Their equal yet opposite counterpart. We hear it all the time when someone talks about their significant other; they call them their better half. We are each half of one soul, so how can you have more than two people make up the whole of it?”
I had never thought about it that way. “So you’re saying it’s always romantic?”
“Not necessarily. It could be a friend or a relative who completes you. I believe both parties need the same, so you’ll be what each other needs. If it’s a parent-child, sibling, platonic, or romantic relationship, then that’s what both sides need to be complete.”
“What if these people never meet? What if they’re on opposite sides of the world?”
“They’ll find each other. Fate will make sure of it.”
“What if one dies young and the other lives for a hundred years?”
His lips curled into the sexiest grin, causing the anxiety—brought on by this conversation—to wane. It was a teasing smirk, one that offered comfort and warmth. “Fate will always make it right. I have to believe that. I have to trust that there is at least one higher power that rights wrongs and balances the bad with the good. If not, then what are we doing here? What’s our purpose?”
“Isn’t that the lifelong question no one’s figured out?”
“If that’s how you want to see it. Or…you could trust that we are all living our purpose, and we’ll understand exactly what it was when we make it to the other side.”
I sorted through my memory of our previous conversation, wondering where his curiosity stemmed from. Except I couldn’t find a connection. I couldn’t come up with a single link between the movie The Quiet Man and the concept of soulmates. Then again, I’d never seen the movie. “What made you ask about that?”
He gave another awkward half-shrug and said, “There’s something about you that keeps giving me déjà vu, and I don’t know what it is. It’s like we’ve met before…but without realizing it.”
It wasn’t like I hadn’t felt the same—about the familiarity, not the possibility of being soulmates; that one was news to me. Needless to say, I was a little stumped as to how to respond. So instead of overthinking it, I went with the first thought that crossed my mind. “Wouldn’t they recognize each other? Like, wouldn’t they just know?”
“It’s not like there’s a secret handshake you suddenly remember when you’re in front of one another. I believe there is some sort of recognition, just not a conscious one.”
“Are you saying you think we’re soulmates?” I hoped he would assume that my giggles were because I found the idea preposterous, and not because the possibility of it made me extremely uncomfortable. It was more awkwardness than discomfort, but regardless, embarrassment burned my skin all the same.
“Of course not,” he said, amusement rumbling through his words. “That’s ridiculous.”
Everything that happened next all seemed to transpire simultaneously.
His laughter cloaked me in relief at the knowledge that he didn’t find my reaction odd. However, his words hit me like a thousand tiny arrows penetrating my chest and deflating my lungs. It made no sense—he said the same thing I did, he agreed with me, so why did hearing him say it have this kind of effect on me? It was a rejection I’d never experienced. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to process it before the electricity cut out.
The soft hum, that I hadn’t realized was even there until it wasn’t, shut off. The lamp next to the couch, as well as the Edison-style droplights over his breakfast bar, went dark. It was strange, considering we hadn’t heard thunder in a while. The rain still beat against his roof and windows, and the clouds continued to conceal any remnants of daylight left in the sky, yet the lightning and thunder had been noticeably absent for at least half an hour.
When nothing came back on after nearly a minute, Drew pushed himself off the floor and said, “That’s weird. I’m going to check the breaker box. I’ll be right back.” And with that, he disappeared out of the room.
While I waited for either the electricity or Drew to return, I contemplated his theory. Honestly, I’d never given the concept of soulmates much thought. To me, it was a given, seeing that we connected to some people better than others. I didn’t necessarily disagree with the notion that we all have just one person out there for us; I’d simply never questioned the subject before tonight. And now that it was in my head, I couldn’t seem to ignore it.
From the moment he showed up on the dock my first night here, I’d felt this unexplainable pull toward him, as if we were strung together, and someone out of sight tightened those strings more and more every day that passed. Most times, it felt like it was every hour, and if I stepped back and looked deeper into it, it seemed as though my being here had been divinely orchestrated.
It had been years since my mom and I had gone through my grandfather’s attic. The diary I’d found had been shoved in a box that I’d stored on the top shelf of my closet. There had never been any desire to go through the box…until a few months ago. And the only item that called to me was the well-worn brown leather journal that sat buried beneath trinkets and a few faded photos.
Of the handful of pictures I’d found, all but one were of groups of people in various places. No person or place looked remotely familiar. None of them resembled me in the slightest, leaving me to wonder whose photos they were. One had been taken at a fairground, and another was of three girls wearing beach attire in front of what appeared to be an auto shop. However, there was one that caught my attention. Oddly enough, it wasn’t of anyone.