Soulmate mark

I used to think that chance encounters only existed in books and movies. I didn’t believe that anyone could make a lasting impact on my life. Before her, I was barely existing. But then she came into my life, and I spent the best months of my life with her. Now that she’s gone, I feel like I’m barely existing once more.

It has been over a year, maybe even two, and time seems to have merged. For someone who forgets things easily, I still remember our first interaction as if it happened yesterday. I walked into a newly renovated café to get coffee and doughnuts. The place seemed out of place, situated between a driving school and a barbershop, with a busy road in front of it. The interior was cool and quiet, in contrast to the bustling street outside. Thinking back, I don’t recall ever having seen that café before that day. It’s almost as if it was placed there by God to disrupt my life.

“Disruption,” she loved that word, and I guess it’s the perfect word to describe her because she interrupted my life. As I walked out of the café, I was suddenly blinded by a bright orange light. She bumped into me, spilling my coffee and causing me to fall to the ground. She was quick to apologize and extended her hand to help me up. And that’s when I saw it — a tattoo on her forearm in the exact same placement as mine.

“I’m so sorry.” “Are you alright?” She asked

Those were the first words she ever said to me. I took a good look at her then. Her hair was dyed bright orange, and she wore a white crop top with the words “I love to make boys cry,” a denim pleated mini skirt with fishnet stockings underneath, and thigh-high boots. She looked amazing. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious in my baggy t-shirt, baggy jeans, and Vans. I barely combed my hair that morning.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said weakly.

I couldn’t believe she was talking to me. It all seemed so surreal. Then, she extended her hand for a handshake, and as I shook it, I got a closer look at her tattoo. My eyes widened, and she followed my line of vision, shrugging.

“Oh, I’ve had it forever. People always wonder why I got just the Yang tattoo, and the answer is simple. It symbolizes strength and assertiveness, two important qualities needed to change the world.”

I was mute. I had never heard anyone describe the Yang tattoo in that way. And now, I felt embarrassed — a feeling that I would feel more often whenever I was around her. I stretched out my arm to show her my tattoo in the exact same placement. Unlike hers, I had gotten mine done just a week ago.

“Oh my God!” She squealed. “I can’t believe this! What are the odds?” She added.

“I got it done last week, and it represents femininity. I guess that’s what the tattoo artist told me,” I said.

“It’s alright! I can’t believe this. We’re definitely kindred spirits!” She said.

I smiled. I didn’t know her, but at that moment, I wanted to be her soulmate. But there were many things I didn’t tell her; things I wish I had. I didn’t tell her that I was supposed to get a Yin Yang tattoo, but I couldn’t handle the pain. After the artist finished the Yin tattoo, I paid him and left. I didn’t tell her that I was weak, and getting this tattoo was supposed to symbolize my transition into adulthood. I always wonder how things would have turned out if I had been more honest with her.

“Give me your number. You’re the yin to my yang,” she said with a wink.

I wonder if I still am.