Soulmated

by Shaila Patel

  A full grin brought out his dimples. “And miss your dress?”

  I let out a laugh. “You know, you can borrow it if you like.” I glanced at it. “You seem awfully infatuated … with the dress, I mean.” I brushed past him toward another bookshelf, but he stopped me by sliding his arm around my waist. My stomach somersaulted.

  He turned me to face him. “Not the dress. You.” A faint redness tinged his cheeks. He swallowed hard. “You look like … an angel. You are an angel. The angel.” His voice was husky and awed. Goosebumps erupted all over me. He reached up to stroke my cheek.

  The angel? Don’t ruin such a perfect moment with doubts, Laxshmi.

  I closed my eyes at his touch and allowed myself to believe the other Indian girl had never existed. She did, of course, but he was here with me now. His heart was here with me. With each stroke of his fingers, he rubbed away my resistance. Each touch told me I was never anyone’s shadow. He’d said his heart was as true as steel. For the first time, I trusted him.

  It had to be my imagination, but he sighed as if he were relieved.

  “You let go,” he whispered.

  “How—?” I gasped. Tingling tore the question from my mouth. Liam brushed my bare shoulder and traced my collarbone to the dip at the base of my throat. Little sparks tickled my skin wherever his fingers trailed, and when he cupped my neck, it was like leaping off a cliff in a grand jeté, tutu and all. I rested my hands on his chest to balance myself, feeling his heart pound against my hand. He leaned in slowly, our eyes locking, and pressed his warm lips against mine.

  A radiant bliss spread from every point where we touched, like the tingling had already created a web of highways for itself. He pulled back a fraction, nuzzled his nose against mine, then studied my eyes. Was he looking for my reaction? I gave him the reassurance he seemed to need by leaning up and returning the kiss. We both smiled against each other’s lips and exhaled as if we’d been holding our breaths. He groaned and hugged me to him, lifting me up. He arched his back and then gently brought me back down, kissing my shoulder. Before I could take my next breath, he kissed me again and then exploded into one of the happiest expressions I’d ever seen him make. I couldn’t help but trace his dimples, nor could I stop my overactive subconscious.

  A smile I inspired, by the touch of my lips.

  A moment to keep in memory’s grip.

  “Damn,” he said. “If I’m inspiring poetry again, I need to be hearing it.”

  “Ugh! No way. You’re too full of yourself already.”

  “Please?” He glanced toward the kitchen and groaned. “Too late—lunch is ready.”

  How did he know? Oh God. I looked behind me. Was his mom watching us?

  He took my hand, kissed the back of it, and led the way into the kitchen before my thoughts could freak me out any more.

  Moira held open the back door and smiled at us. On instinct, I pulled my hand from Liam’s. He turned to me, raising an eyebrow. I shrugged. It felt surreal to be myself in front of a parent—even though I suspected that Moira would be open-minded about a public display of affection. Dating was a normal part of life for Liam, but for me, it wasn’t part of our culture. Hiding my American side from Mom was an act of self-preservation, as was downplaying my Indian side in front of everyone else.

  We stepped outside. A concrete patio extended past a second-floor balcony overhead, giving the Whelans a clear view of my backyard. The heat baked my skin, but a hint of a breeze reminded me autumn was coming. Liam held out my chair, and the three of us sat around an outdoor table with textured glass and a wide, sipping-in-the-shade umbrella.

  Moira dished out seasoned, broiled fish over wild rice, a small green salad, and fresh fruit. Fish was a rare treat for me since we didn’t cook any type of meat or seafood at home, and the school’s fried fish was questionable at best.

  As we ate, Moira thanked me for helping Patty. She went on and on about how much it meant to them. She reached over and squeezed my hand at one point. Her eyes glistened. I tried to change the subject several times, but it didn’t work.

  As usual, Liam seemed to know what I was thinking. He put his arm on the back of my chair and caressed my shoulder with his thumb.

  “Mum, let’s stop with the family talk, yeah?”

  “You’re right, darling, listen to me go on.”

  She changed the subject to the DVD Liam had borrowed and gushed about my dance performance. Still awkward, but at least there was no chance I’d burst into tears.

  Without missing a beat, she offered me more fish. I pointed out a small portion, which she scooped onto my plate. Liam reached over and grabbed two more filets, playfully muttering about Moira’s favorite son being ignored.

  “And that green costume was exquisite. It’s Liam’s favorite color as well.” She slid a bite off her fork and smiled.

  Liam half-sighed, half-groaned. I held back a snort.

  Moira wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and launched into a slew of questions about my dancing. Liam hadn’t been joking—she really did love everything Indian. She’d visited India several times already, and so had Liam—three times, in fact—when he was three, seven, and ten. Was that where he’d gotten his taste for Indian girls?

  “One of the reasons I’m so fascinated with India,” Moira continued, “is because my great-grandmother was Indian.”

  Wha—? I gaped at Liam. “That means you’re … ” I quickly did the math in my head. “One-sixteenth Indian.”

  Would Mom be impressed? Yeah, right.

  “That I am.” He wore a proud look on his face, and I fell for him a little bit harder. Maybe Mom’s sister and brother would be impressed. I closed my eyes. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Laxshmi.

  Moira began serving up an apple tart. “My great-grandmother’s name happens to have been Mahalaxshmi, and she was a courtesan dancer for one of the rajas in northern India. My Irish great-grandfather Fionn was visiting this raja and fell in love with her. He helped her escape and brought her back to Ireland. She didn’t even speak English.”

  Chills sprinted up and down my body at the incredible story and coincidences. “Did she dance Bharatanatyam or Kathak?”

  “Kathak,” she said.

  “Wow, the whole thing is so romantic.” Mahalaxshmi was all by herself in a foreign country, married to a man who spoke a different language. How did they even communicate? How did they make it work? I sneaked a peek at Liam, but he was already studying me, like he always did.

  While we finished eating, we watched a squirrel hang from its tail and swing toward a bird feeder on a nearby branch. We laughed at his antics, and then Liam turned to me.

  He leaned in and lowered his voice. “Where there’s a will—”

  “There’s a way,” I finished, wondering if he was somehow answering the question I hadn’t voiced about Fionn and Mahalaxshmi. It wouldn’t have surprised me.

  Moira began clearing the table, and I jumped up to help.

  “No, darling. Relax and enjoy the day.”

  Liam helped himself to another piece of the apple tart, and I worked on mine, chewing slowly and twirling my fork.

  “I’d really like to know what it is you’re thinking,” Liam said.

  “I was wondering how your twice-great grandparents communicated, and then I thought about how you always know what I’m thinking.” I shrugged. “Maybe it was like that for them.”

  “Not thinking, but feeling.”

  I turned to him. It was an odd thing to say, but he wasn’t laughing. Instead, he had that private-joke smile of his.

  The patio door opened, and I helped Moira clear the rest of the dishes, despite her protests. Liam reclined in his chair, hands linked behind his head as he chewed his last bite. With the sun washing him in light, he was the one who looked like an angel.

  “The fish was delicious, Moira. Thank you.” I stepped inside and placed the dishes under some running water.

&nb
sp; “You’re welcome, darling, but please leave the washing up. You two have work to do.” She stroked the ends of my hair, then handed me a towel to dry my hands.

  “Are you sure? With two of us, we could knock this out in a few minutes.” Through the kitchen window, I saw Liam staring off into space, a small smile on his face. Could he be thinking of me?

  “I’m quite certain.” She followed my gaze, and I put the towel down, embarrassed. How could I be so rude? Wasn’t I supposed to want to impress Moira?

  She chuckled. “You know, you’re the first girl Liam has ever brought home.”

  I snapped my head toward her. “Really?”

  “Truly. I’ve never seen him like this. If I were you, I wouldn’t worry so much. Now go to him. Just don’t tell him I told you anything.”

  “I won’t.” I hugged her, overwhelmed with everything. She held me close, caressing my hair like she would a daughter’s, and then scooted me out the door.

  Liam and I eventually headed back to their library, or front room as he’d called it. We sat on the sofa, and I took out the books we needed to practice my monologue. After an hour, I still kept losing my accent every few words.

  I leaned forward and buried my face in the book. “Ugh.” The musty odor tickled my nose.

  “You’re doing well. Honest,” Liam said. “You know you’ll make a good grade for trying.”

  “That’s not good enough.” I wanted to make him proud.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ll ever be doing an American accent as well as you’re doing an Irish one.”

  “You’re just being nice.”

  “Can’t help it.” He stroked my cheek. The tingling warmed me. He moved the book off my lap and came closer, making my head spin. He kissed me and then began reciting a poem.

  I’d mourn the hopes that leave me,

  If thy smiles had left me too;

  I’d weep when friends deceive me,

  If thou wert, like them, untrue.

  But while I’ve thee before me,

  With heart so warm and eyes so bright,

  No clouds can linger o’er me,

  That smile turns them all to light.

  We studied each other’s faces, and I memorized his little quirks—the few eyelashes that curled at the ends while the others were straight, the tiny mole under the corner of his right eye, the roundness of his upper lip. Judging by the way he gazed at me, he was doing the same.

  How can one moment feel like an anchor for my whole life?

  “That was Thomas Moore, right?” I asked, quietly. “Page 173.”

  He barked out a laugh and kissed the top of my shoulder. “You’re always surprising me Lucky Kapadia.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my face.

  “Nuh-uh. You keep distracting me. Besides, your mom’s right in the next room,” I whispered, glancing behind us into the kitchen.

  “Now that’s just a challenge.” He buried his face in my neck.

  “Stop!” I giggled, nudging him away.

  He pulled me closer just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. I didn’t know if I should be relieved or annoyed. He smiled. “It’s Patty.”

  I curled up next to Liam, eager to take the phone when he was done. As I’d expected, Patty rambled on before Liam could get a single word in. “I’ll give you over to Aunt Moira in a tic, but I’ve a surprise for you … Yeah, a birthday surprise … No, it’s here, sitting next to me.” Liam grinned. Patty must have guessed. “Here she is.” Liam grabbed my jaw and pulled me in for a quick kiss before he handed me his phone.

  I sighed and cleared my throat. “Patty?”

  “Lucky!” His sweet Irish accent tore through my heart. How could someone so far away, someone I barely knew, have that kind of power over me? It was like he was my own sibling.

  We talked and laughed, and then Uncle Henry came on the phone to thank me. After some mushy-awkward moments, I gave the phone to Moira. It wasn’t long before she came back from the kitchen with the phone to her chest.

  “Kyle and Bryan now insist on speaking with Laxshmi. They say they’ll keep ringing back until she talks to them. They promised a quick chat.”

  Liam got up and muttered something about their idea of quick would take hours. From the stories he told me about his cousins, he was probably worried they’d embarrass him. I held back a smile.

  “I’ll get them to quit,” Liam said. Moira handed the phone to him, and he hit what I figured was the mute button. “Lucky, I’ve got to take this upstairs. I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He squeezed my hand before bounding up the steps, arguing with his cousins on the way.

  “Will you be all right down here on your own, darling?” Moira asked. “No doubt, he’ll be down shortly, but I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

  “With all these books?” I waved toward the shelves. “I’ll be more than all right. Thanks.”

  She patted my shoulder and left. I started at the nearest bookshelf and walked around the room, scanning random titles. I should have been studying calculus, but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I hated to admit Mom was right. How can you focus on school when you’re thinking about what underwear you’re wearing? Well, not literally. I snorted. Not even Mom could ruin my mood.

  I glanced back toward the stairs and pushed on my sternum. Liam’s absence always felt like a big rubber band snapping back when he got too far, hitting me square in the chest. We only had two classes together—three if you counted him skipping study hall to go to drama with me—and sometimes, I’d actually feel ill when we weren’t together. The hallucinations were getting out of control.

  I rubbed my temples to clear my thoughts and wandered around the room. His old yearbooks were all on one shelf and tempted my curiosity. I started with his ninth-grade yearbook and opened it to the inside front cover. A sweet message from a girl named Juhi caught my attention. It was an Indian name, and I wondered if she was the girl Liam had sighed over. From three years ago? Not quite sigh-worthy. I searched for his picture, but only found his name. Maybe he’d missed picture day.

  I put the book back and reached for his sophomore yearbook from Atlanta. I found two Indian girls who signed it with I-used-to-be-your-girlfriend type messages, and my lungs grew heavier. He’d dated two Indian girls in one school? Three in two years? What were the odds? Especially considering no non-Indians had written any girlfriend-type messages.

  And considering he’d only mentioned the one ex-girlfriend to me.

  My heart beat harder against my chest. Liam was still upstairs. I quickly indexed the girls’ names to find their pictures. Can I be any more pathetic? Jayna was in ninth grade, and Karisha was in the tenth like Liam. I flipped between their pictures and found we all resembled each other. My hands trembled. I put the book back, and held my hand over last year’s yearbook.

  Do you really want to do this?

  I yanked it out. I had no choice.

  It was from his high school in Memphis. I scanned for his picture first and traced his face when I found it. He hadn’t changed much from last year. I pushed the dread back behind a dam, but the picture next to him caught my attention.

  Everything around me fell away.

  Framed around a quick love note were little x’s and o’s. A shaky breath escaped from my mouth, and I bit my lower lip to stop it from trembling.

  Her name was Sejal Walia. The yearbook could’ve been a mirror reflecting back my own image. She was prettier, although I didn’t like her eyebrows much, and her smile was more like a frown. Since Liam had just moved here from Memphis, leaving her would’ve been a fresh wound—a slow, sigh-inducing wound. What if Liam had lied to me to spare my feelings? How could he sigh like that for someone who’d meant nothing to him? Was I a replacement for one of them? For all of them?

  Them. Oh God.

  We even looked alike. It was creepy. Did he hav
e an Indian-girl fetish or something? Was he some sort of serial rapist? Was that why they moved around so much?

  But even worse? I’d given my heart to the wrong guy.

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

  I wasn’t special to him. I was just a number. Joke number five.

  The book slipped and plunged downward, but I caught the back cover, exposing more signatures on the inside. A large heart drawn with a red marker grabbed my attention. Everything in me was warning me to run, but it felt like my feet were glued to the floor. I read the message inside the heart through tears.

  Dear Liam,

  I’ll always remember what we had this year. You’re truly the best thing that ever happened to me. I’ll never forget watching the games under the stars and the hours on the phone with you. You’ll forever be a part of me. I will always love you.

  Love, Sejal

  She’d been in love with him. How could he have dated her for a year and have felt nothing for her? What kind of person can do that? Were the five of us part of some bet? Were we puppets in some sick joke?

  How could I ever trust someone like him?

  I swallowed the rising bile. I had to leave.

  A door slammed upstairs.

  “Lucky?” Liam thundered down the stairs.

  God, does he read minds? I shoved the yearbook back on the shelf and slapped away the tears.

  “Lucky? What’s wrong?” He rushed over and wrapped me in a hug. My arms lay limp at my side. It didn’t feel right to hold him anymore. He was a stranger.

  I pushed past him, dropped to the floor, and shoved my books in my bag.

  He fell to his knees in front of me and grabbed my face. “You’re pulling away again. Why? Talk to me.”

  “I–I have to go.” I didn’t have a choice. The pain was shredding my heart into a thousand pieces.

  I got up and ran out the door.

  CHAPTER 21

  Liam

  “Lucky!” I stared at the front door.

  What in the feckin’ hell just bloody happened?