Pink? Really?

Mr. Zombie Eyes

        Who the fuck has pink eyes? Seriously. I feel like a bad YA novel looking in the mirror and seeing that my soul mate has pink eyes. When I meet him, he's going to have some serious explaining to do. It's not even a impressive pink; it's pale and more than a little bit creepy. Sometimes I want to cover it up, but all efforts to disguise it ended in sixth grade when my contact moved and the girl sitting next to me shrieked in horror. Sighing, I pulled my hair into a lazy ponytail and slid down the stairs in an attempt to keep from face-planting at the bottom.   

        "Coye did you fall down the stairs again?" my sister's frustrated growl rumbled down the hallway from where she was sitting at the table in the kitchen.

        "What do you think?" I snapped, trying to stem the tide of rage that comes with looking in the mirror for too long and failing miserably. 

        "No need to get snippy," my sister glanced up from breakfast to give me a look. It was more concerned than angry, and I was momentarily touched. Then she had to go and open her mouth. 

        "Thinking about Mr. Zombie Eyes again?" she smirked at me. You know, this whole soul mate situation is really not fair. Her soul mates eyes must be captivating. Just the one she's got is striking. Somewhere in between blue and green, it looks like it couldn'tdecide on one and settled in the middle instead. My pink eye really does look dead next to hers. 

        "You know what Meg? I can't do this today. Let me know when you decide to be less of a prick." I stormed out the door and put my brain on autopilot while I struggled to get my hoodie on without tripping over my own feet. Before long, the local library loomed above me, and I silently thanked my subconscious for leading me there while I struggled with my outerwear. The doors slid open as I neared them and every muscle in my body relaxed as the smell of old bindings and crinkly paper hit me. There is no better way to spend a Sunday morning that got off to a bad start. Keeping in mind that the library closed at three, I took a  stroll around the shelves.

                                                                              * * * * * * * * * * * * *

        My arrival back home was less than eventful. Meg appeared to have retreated to her bedroom, so I kicked off my shoes and set my books down on the counter before rifling through the fridge for something to make up for my lack of breakfast. I was so absorbed in my determination to make the perfect breakfast burrito that my phone ringing under my stack of books scared me into dropping a piece of cheese. Whoever it was would pay for that. Picking up the phone, I lashed out in annoyance, "You have killed my cheese; you will pay." I ground it out, trying to peel the lost dairy product off the floor.

        "Coye, it's me." my best friend, Az, sighs through the phone. I still intend to carry out my threat, and I alert her of this.

        "That changes nothing." Az just sighs again and clears her throat quietly.

        "Coye I need you to be serious for a moment," her tone is sobering.     

        "Wow, okay. What's up?" I stuck my burrito in the microwave and plopped into a chair.

        "You know how I'm staying with my grandparents in North Carolina?" 

     "Yes, Az, there was a whole kerfuffle over moving schools and not seeing my best friend anymore. What's your point?" I was starting to get annoyed at this point.

        "Well, I was just walking around the park, and I...I think..." she trailed off.

        "Spit it out, I have a burrito waiting for me." I silenced the beeping microwave and popped open the door to let my burrito cool off for a bit. 

        "IMETMYSOULMATE," Az blurted, stringing it together incoherently.

        "Dude what," I could not make out one word of that.

        "I said, I met my soul mate." she breathed out.

        "Holy fuck!" I slid right out of my chair and didn't have it in me to care about how cold the floor was, "Why do you sound so sad about that?!" I demanded incredulously.

        "It's, uh...it's a girl." she whispered like it was some kind of shameful secret.

        "Oh," it suddenly hit me why she was so upset about that. My poor Az was raised "Christian". Not the loving kind of Christian, but the bigoted, horrible kind. To her this must have seemed shameful and disgusting. "Listen to me. I know what you think about this. I'm telling you it's not fair to that girl not to give it a try."

        "But I ca-" she stumbled over her words.

        "No. Don't but me. Go kiss the hell out of that girl, and if you somehow find something shameful about her, you can hate both of us for the rest of your life."

        "Wait I-"

        "No. Go. Now." I hit end call before she could protest any further and slumped against the legs of the chair. My burrito seemed to call to me, and I dragged myself toward the microwave. What an eventful Sunday.