For my girlfriend who adores cliché, soul mate falling in love nonsense. She made me do it.
I watch the colourful images on the tiny television screen through half closed eyes, my long eyelashes tickling the flushed skin. Fresh from a warm bubble bath my skin was rosy and my hair was still damp. The ends always ended up drying quicker than the rest and flicking in all directions and tonight was no exception. I was sitting as close to the screen as I possibly could be without going cross eyed, short legs folded up to my chest. The cheap carpet that once presumably was cream, but was now brown with dirt was rough and scratchy underneath me, not that I really noticed. On the single bed behind me, hidden under a plush mountain of teddies and pillows my younger brother slept peacefully.
A sweet love song played from the outdated television, sang by a beautiful cartoon princess with flowing corn coloured hair and a red silk gown. She danced gracefully around the lush forest, singing all about the wonders of True Love to her cute little animals friends. She didn`t half go on a bit, I think to myself, rubbing my tired eyes. The bunnies and the squirrels didn`t seem too taken with her song either. Her handsome, blue eyed prince eventually joined in, appearing magically from behind some tree. He began to twirl the delicate young girl around.
Is that really what love is like? It that really going to happen to me one day? I wonder, half intrigued, half repulsed as I tear my sleepy eyes away from the movie. I wasn`t too sure I even wanted to fall in love with someone one day, no matter if it was true or not. Love was icky, girls were icky and fairy tales were too cheesy to be really real. Mum and Dad never danced around in the woods singing sappy duets together like that, and as far as I knew they never even held hands.
I glance down at my left hand and frown. They were always there. Wrapped tightly around my slender finger was not one, but three brown non-allergenic plasters. Mummy and Daddy always made sure I had them on at all times, even when I was sleeping. Up until now, I was never really concerned about why they did it, not caring what name was written there. I had way more important things to be thinking about, like playing with my toy cars and looking out for Sammy at the play park.
Now though, I was curious. Maybe it was because of the movie I had just watched, or maybe I was just tired of having something so important hidden from me, but I do it. My other hand moves slowly towards the plasters. I take a deep breath then reach out and grab hold of the end which had become loose in the bath water earlier. I pull it back quickly, wincing at the sting. I then do the same until the other two are off and thrown across the cramped bedroom and in the bin as well.
I take another deep breath, before looking down at my hand again, unable to hold back a small giggle at what I was about to do.
Five neat italic letters curl their way down my ring finger, the inky black lettering telling me the name of my supposed soulmate. The one I was destined to live my own happily ever after with one day. The name they had tried to hide from me for my entire life.
"J-Jam…Jam…e…s," the word tastes strange in my mouth, but I feel a warmth rush over me as I struggle to say the last letter. I grin a big gap toothed grin, incredibly pleased with myself for sounding the word out all on my own.
My future soulmate was someone named James.
I didn't know who he was, where he came from or what he looked like. I didn`t even know his last name. He was my soulmate and like it or not, nothing could ever change that.
This would explain why Mum and Dad had never read me the name of my soulmate the one time I had asked them to before. It explained why they treated me different to Sammy, who had the name "Jessica," marked on his finger. Explains why I have to have it covered over every day.
"Mummy, read this!" I eagerly stretch out my left arm for her like I do every morning so she can apply a new plaster.
"Read what, Dean?" she asks warily, ripping opening a new box of waterproof plasters.
"The writing on my finger!" I explain happily, waving it about under her nose.
Her eyes harden into thin slits. Roughly, she grabs my hand and ignoring my wails of protest, covers the fancy writing with a dull brown plaster. She then adds another two on top of it to stop if from coming off during the day.
"You are never to ask me about that again Dean, are we clear?" she slaps the hand away as though it disgusted her.
"And if we find you looking at it you will be in big trouble." Dad booms from his seat at the breakfast table, tucking in to a third helping of bacon.
Mum walks away leaving me there in the kitchen, cradling my sore hand to my chest before she gets an answer.
I was five, but I wasn`t stupid.
My soulmate was a boy and they didn`t like that.