#"techni

Growing up, my parents always taught me to believe that soulmates weren’t real. There was no such thing, it was all make believe. I didn’t know any better, didn’t know how to disagree, so I went along with whatever they said.

Maybe it was because my mother was a pill popping lush who never got off the couch.

Maybe it was because my father was a drunken, disgraced cop who constantly reminded me that he never wanted me.

Maybe I was just too scared to disagree with them.

But here’s the thing, soulmates existed. They were a real thing, but I wouldn’t realize or understand that until I was ten years old. Until I found my own soulmate.

Well, technically, I didn’t find anyone. I felt it.

With soulmates, it’s all about proximity. If you’re within fifty miles of your counterpart you can feel them, feel their moods and their emotions. It’s not necessarily a weight that you feel inside yourself, it’s more of a warmth. A sense of not being alone. I felt him, whoever he was, for the first time when I was ten years old and I’d felt him every day since.

Thirteen years later and nothing had changed.

My name is Indigo Parrish and this is my story.

I slung my black Calvin Klein backpack over one shoulder as I bounded up the stairs to my apartment, keys jingling in my hand. It was nearly six and my shift at the cafe ended late thanks to the asshole who decided to spill his large iced latte all over the display case. I smelled like a mix of mocha and coffee beans, in desperate need of a hot shower before I had to meet my best friend, Tiny. We made plans to go to her favorite dive bar and it was somewhere in Oceanside, a town she had become familiar with when she was still heavy into coke and guys that were too old for her.

My phone vibrated in my pocket just as I unlocked the door. I stepped inside and locked it behind me before answering. “Tiny, listen, I’m gonna be a few minutes late. I need to take a shower, I smell like coffee and broken dreams.”

“I love coffee!” My best friend of ten years chirped happily into the phone.

“Nice try, I’m still gonna be late.”

“Boo, you whore.”

I laughed and hung up, undressing as I made my way down the short hall to the closet sized bathroom. Okay, so maybe my apartment was a shithole and maybe I could hear mice scurrying around inside the walls sometimes, but the rent was cheap, my neighbors were quiet, and anything was better than my parents’ house.

My anxiety began to rise just thinking about the two people who brought me into this world and I tried as hard as I possibly could to put a lid on it. I didn’t want him to feel that I was all riled up and upset because, in turn, he would get all riled up and upset. It was Friday, for fuck’s sake. I wanted us to enjoy our weekend even if we weren’t together.

We’d never been together.

However, I knew he was close.

It had been a selling point for the apartment, honestly. The second I stepped foot into the cramped space for the first time he felt closer than ever before. We’d spent a decade feeling each other but it always felt far away. This? My shithole apartment? This was where I could really feel him. Three years later and I never regretted moving in.

Tiny was the only person who knew my soul had found its counterpart. She was the only person I could trust with the information because she was the only person in this world who had my back. She believed in them, but anyone who truly believed in soulmates had to keep it on the downlow. There were some serious anti’s out there who refused to acknowledge that they existed. In fact, some people were so anti that they went as far as killing people who claimed to be soulmates. Just last week I saw on the news that a couple was burned alive in their home in Santa Fe after revealing they believed fate brought them together.

It was a cruel world.

I knew I believed in soulmates when I was ten years old. I’d been at the park by myself, my father too drunk to remember that he brought me there and leaving without me. I’d been sitting on the swings, kicking my legs back and forth when I felt this sudden rush of something inside me. I’d later realize it was adrenaline, but I was so panicked at the time, alone and scared, that I burst into tears. A man had been there with his daughter when he saw me having some sort of nervous breakdown. He’d rushed over, asked where my parents were and, after realizing I’d been left alone, he asked if that was why I was upset.

“No,” I said as I wiped fat tears from my cheeks. “Something’s inside of me. I feel weird.”

The poor guy looked so confused. “What do you mean? Where?”

I hit my hand against my chest three times. “Here. Something’s wrong.”

The man’s face lit up in realization and he started laugh which, in turn, made me cry harder. But that man changed my life. He told me everything about soulmates, about how he had met his when he was fourteen years old and they were still together. He told me all about how they had to keep it a secret, but that it was a good secret because they loved each other.

“Why a secret?” I asked him towards the end of our conversation.

He had lifted his hat off revealing a long, jagged scar that went from his forehead down to his temple. My ten year old self had been terrified, but something resonated with me that day. This man had his face permanently disfigured all because he wanted people to know that he found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. All because he didn’t want to settle. Even at my young age I knew, I knew, my soulmate was someone I needed to protect.

“Not all secrets are bad.” He smiled.

I never saw him again after that, but not a day went by in the last thirteen years that I didn’t think about him. His name was Simon and he changed my life.

I hoped Simon was happy with his wife and daughter.

I hoped someday I could be that happy, too.

Soulmates were a pretty straightforward concept. You could feel what the other was feeling. There was no telepathy, nothing Sci-fi about it. You could just… feel the other one. It was interesting and overwhelming, but the older I got the easier it was to manage. Although I had to admit it was a shock when I realized I could feel him get aroused and even more of a shock when I realized that he could tell when I was, too. It was embarrassing, but there was a part of me that felt as though it was easier knowing I wasn’t going through it alone. He, whoever he was, had to be just as uncomfortable as I was.

Though his emotions were never light I welcomed them anyway solely because I liked the feel of him. Sometimes his sadness and resentment were so heavy it made my chest physically ache. But he had his moments of peace. It never reached the point of happiness, but late at night when I lay in bed I could feel a certain weight lift off me. I wondered if he was asleep, if that was the only time he had any peace and quiet in his life.

Don’t get me wrong, there were days when it was so frustrating I could have screamed. There were days where I dismissed myself as crazy and told myself soulmates weren’t real and it was all in my head. I was just the dumb, crazy little girl my parents told me I was when I was a child.

Those feelings never lasted, though. They were dark, yes, and my mind was probably dangerously twisted from the constant back and forth. But there was always something to pull me back from falling over the edge of sanity. There was always something holding my hand, pulling me back, pulling me towards that warmth again.

It was him. I knew it was.

But I still thought I was crazy sometimes.

After my shower, I was quick to change into a pair of curve hugging jeans and a simple white t-shirt. Nothing fancy considering we were going to a dive bar. Wiping the condensation off the mirror, I looked at my own hazel eyes staring back at me. My long brown hair was pulled up in a loose bun, strands falling and framing my face. My thick brows looked the way they always did… thick, and my plump mouth had nothing more than chapstick on it. After swiping on a bit of mascara, slipping into my white Vans, and grabbing my keys I was good to go.

* * *

“I swear you don’t listen sometimes. It’s like I do all the work and all you do is lay around and smoke weed, and do coke, and fuck around with Renn by the pool. If you’re not here to do exactly what I tell you to, then why are you here at all? Craig, are you listening? Craig?”

I glanced over at my uncle who was zoned out and looking at whatever was playing on the tv. He was always the one who never paid attention in family meetings. I knew Pope would give him a play by play, but this was Deran’s job and Deran’s rules.

He was going to get what he wanted even if he had to sucker punch Craig for it.

It would be a routine job, the same old shit. In and out in under three minutes, ditch the cars, ditch the clothes, take the cash, and go. It was easy enough but going over the basics was smart, especially with Craig who was always too fucking coked out to pay attention.

With Smurf still in prison and Baz dead it was just the four of us. We were making it work pulling easy jobs that brought in quick cash. But it was never a big payoff. There were still bills that needed to be paid and properties that needed to be managed. We needed a serious hit. A big hit. Or else I would fuck everything up and Smurf would be right.

I’d sooner drown in my own fucking blood that ever admit she was right about us.

Hell, I didn’t even like my uncles but I wanted success so bad I could practically taste it. We could do it without her, we had to do it without her.

I shoved my elbow into Craig’s ribs. “Dude, listen the fuck up.”

He turned and glared at me, clearly pissed off that I’d interrupted his tv time. “Why don’t you shut the fuck up, kid?”

I clenched my jaw and cocked my head from side to side, cracking my neck to relieve some of the tension. I couldn’t let my anxiety ramp up, not after feeling hersnot too long ago. I wondered what was bothering her, if she was alright. She wasn’t normally an anxious person, she was actually pretty relaxed most days. I could always feel that warmth in my chest when she was happy and as much as I loved it, it killed me that I couldn’t be there with her. I hated knowing that I wasn’t the one making her happy, but even more than that? I fucking loathed the thought of anyone else making her happy.

You’re her soulmate, I thought to myself as Deran rambled on about money and guns and we had to move quick and keep our heads low. No one will ever make her as happy as you do.

Although there was no way of knowing if I was actually going to make her happy considering I’d never heard her voice or seen her face. But I always liked to imagine what she looked like. I pictured a brunette, someone with an easy laugh, someone that liked the same movies as me.

“Jesus, J, you there? Or did Craig get you into the coke, too?”

I clenched my jaw as my uncle looked down at me with raised eyebrows.

“I’m here, sorry. I didn’t sleep well.”

He huffed, moving slowly across the living room as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, if you’re too tired then maybe you should skip this one, kiddo. I don’t want you to lose any sleep.”

I bit back my temper, grinding my fucking molars. “I said I’m here.”

He clapped his hands together in response. “Great, now where were we?”

After going over the plan three more times we called it a day. Deran needed to head to the bar, Craig needed to pick up Nicky and get more coke, and Pope… went off doing whatever it was that Pope did. I went back to my room, closing and locking the door behind me as I thought about her, wondering if she had a good day. I assumed she did considering how light my chest felt. If it was a good day everything felt light. A bad day? It felt like my bones weighed a ton and there was a weight on my chest.

But today wasn’t a bad day.

I wonder if she felt my temper earlier, I mused silently. As if she could hear and answer my question, warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading over my shoulders and down my arms to the tips of my fingers. I knew she did.

There were times when I didn’t think she could possibly exist. Maybe my family was right, maybe soulmates were bullshit and it was just media propaganda. It was make believe and there was never just one person out there for us. But the older I got the more I believed. Because why else would I wake up in a panic in the middle of the night? Because she was afraid. Why else would I get this strange, bashful, vulnerable feeling in October of every year? Because it was her favorite month, it was her birthday month. It held something significant and I felt it.

She was real, she was out there, and she was waiting for me.

Sometimes she felt so close that I wondered if she was down the street.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, looking down at the ID. It was Smurf. Again. She’d been pushing me to go see her for the last four days but now I was dodging her calls. She was awaiting trial for Javi’s murder, but she just kept saying she would get out. She would come home. Things would go back to the way they were before.

I fucking prayed every day that she was wrong.

“J!” Craig’s heavy footsteps thudded down the hall to my room. “Get dressed, we’re heading to the bar.”

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here. Tired.”

He was already shaking his head. “No way. Come on, man. Smurf turn you into her little bitch boy or do you want to come have a beer?”

Fucking Christ, I thought to myself. It was bad enough living with this fucking family, the last thing I wanted to do was drink with any of them. I just wanted out.

“Whatever. Fine. Give me ten minutes.”

“Five.”

I flipped him off and his laugh echoed down the hallway.

* * *

The bar was crowded. Shoulders were being bumped into and Tiny had her finger wrapped around my belt loop as we headed towards the bar.

“Two shots of Jameson!” I shouted over the overlapping conversations around us.

The bartender was a blonde guy wearing a red velvet shirt. Tiny mentioned earlier that she thought he was cute but he didn’t seem to pay much mind to the petite, raven haired Panama native that was my best friend.

“This is my favorite little place.” Tiny drummed her fingers on the bar and shook her ass to the beat of the music. It was clear that she’d pre-gamed pretty hard before I met up with her, not that I minded. She was the definition of a free spirit.

“That guy from last weekend showed up tonight.” She smiled over my shoulder, her nose crinkling up and making her little diamond stud twinkle in the dim lighting.

Tiny was, of course, referring to the guy (David? Daniel? Dick?) that she met here last weekend. She’d vowed not to exchange numbers with him but told him if she saw him at the bar again she’d let him buy her a drink.

“Looks like it’s my lucky night.” She winked at me. Her brown eyes looked like big saucers as he walked up to us with so much swagger I actually almost gagged. He wasn’t my type and his cologne was way too heavy for my taste, but he was right up Tiny’s alley.

“I believe we had a deal.” He laughed, revealing teeth that were so white they probably could have glowed in the dark. It was seriously like in that episode of Friends when Ross wore the teeth whitener for too long.

“Okay,” I said with an awkward smile. I knew it was my cue to leave and let her have her fun. To be completely honest, I didn’t mind. I was tired, work sucked, and after having a shot or two I would want nothing more than to go home, roll a blunt, and slide into bed. I’d been on my feet since nearly six and, though I wasn’t complaining about coming out and having a good time with my best friend, I was someone who appreciated their alone time.

I was heading towards the exit when all at once it felt like I couldn’t breathe. Slamming my hand against my chest, it felt as though the wind had been knocked out of me and my vision blurred around the edges. It was like nothing I’d ever felt, completely overwhelming, and all at once I knew.

He’s here.

My eyes widened at the realization and I whipped my head around, looking for someone I wouldn’t even recognize. I had no clue what he looked like, who he was, his fucking name. But I could feel him. It was like he was standing right in front of me and I wondered if he felt the same way. Could he feel what I felt? That overwhelming, stifling warmth?

We’d been doing this for thirteen years, unwillingly sharing our emotions and feelings with each other. We’d always been so close yet just out of reach, just far enough away that maybe it didn’t feel completely real. Now? Now he was so close I could almost taste him, so close I could nearly feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I can’t do this.

It felt like too much. It was too much too fast, unexpected. I wasn’t ready to face him, whoever he was. What if he didn’t like the way I dressed or the way I looked? What if I was disappointed with his name or his job? They all sounded like such shallow, trivial things. But the simple truth was that they were basic things that people either accepted or they didn’t.

What if we couldn’t accept each other?

You’re soulmates. Don’t you sort of have to accept each other? It’s in the metaphorical soulmates handbook. My head was swimming and I was confused, anxiety tugging at my heartstrings. Jesus, screw the whiskey. I needed three shots of tequila and a horse tranquilizer.

It could be my only chance at actually seeing him, finding my counterpart, and I was running away with my tail between my legs because I was just too afraid. Shaking my head, I cast my eyes down to the floor as I weaved through the throngs of people in the bar. Some were playing pool, some were dancing, all were loud. My anxiety was making everything feel heightened and I figured if he couldn’t feel me before he could definitely feel me now. My palms were sweating and my temples were pulsating. I just need fresh air. I just need to get outside. My lungs were starting to burn, a panic attack quickly approaching as I shouldered my way through the crowd, eventually making it out the door to the sidewalk.

It was mostly empty aside from a few people milling about. I took a few steps to the edge of the concrete and bent over, placing my hands on my knees while I hauled in a few deep breaths and tried to even my breathing. My heart was beating a mile a minute and I shook my head, wanting to laugh and cry at the fact that I had just bitched out instead of facing him.

The strands of hair that escaped my bun were sticking to my forehead from sweat and I damned myself for wearing jeans instead of shorts.

What a shitshow this turned out to be, I thought with a humorless chuckle. I come out with my best friend and the night ends in a full blown meltdown. What was more embarrassing than that? I honestly figured the poor bastard was better off without me, I was clearly borderline certifiable and couldn’t even go out to a bar without feeling like I couldn’t breathe.

Eventually, after my heart rate slowed and my breathing returned to normal, I straightened up and rolled my shoulders a few times to relieve some of the tension. It was time to call it a night and I turned on my heel, preparing to walk for a few blocks, get some fresh air and then eventually hail a cab home.

I took two steps forward, my Vans scuffing against the broken concrete when someone stepped directly in my line of vision, blinking at me from a few feet away. He was a few inches taller than me, sandy hair curling just slightly at the ends and a navy blue sweater covering his upper half. His jaw was distinct, his shoulders broad, and he had eyes that reminded me of the ocean; stormy, dark, trouble looming just under the surface.

It was him. I didn’t know how I knew, but I did. I could feel it in my core. I was standing in front of my soulmate and he was looking right at me, our expressions mirroring the other’s.

“You.” The word was barely audible, coming from low in his chest.