Matchmaker: A Short Story

Check Mate

"Everything seems to be working, as I told you it would from the beginning". His now familiar face smiles genuinely at me, and I cannot help but smile back. Who would have thought this man would become so important to me?
I smile back, unable to contain myself.
"It does." I look away, instantly saddened. He grabs my shoulder and forces me to look his way.
This is Jason, the man I hired to act as my matchmaker. He is a player and he is full of himself. He makes me angry, but justifiably so. We get on each other's nerves a lot for the six months I have known him. Recently, though, we have been warming up to each other, or so I thought. He took me out to the beach yesterday, and we had the best time. I swore I saw the love in his eyes-
"You don't love him? But you've been everywhere with him! You shared so much together. You are so compatible, and yet, when we speak of him, there is no love in those eyes."
I blink back into reality, almost forgetting he is not talking about himself.
I look down again, and remember all the ridiculous dates he made me go on with Charlie, my "match".
Whenever I went on a date with Charlie, I had a microphone in my ear, and Jason was always somewhere in the background, watching and giving advice and yelling. I constantly have to remind myself that it is his job, and he does not give the advice or help me because he cares about me.
The truth is that I would never want to be with anyone but him. I have never felt so at home with someone. The matchmaker inadvertently set himself up with me, but he would never accept it. 
"Yes, you are correct. I don't love him. I cannot. I am sorry." I feel the emotions boil inside of me. I am on the verge of either tears or a screaming fit.
He grabs my hand. Across his desk. "Sweetheart, I will still help you. As long as it takes. I am not going to dump a client. We will keep looking. Your perfect match has to be somewhere."
This is when I snap. I have had enough emotional blockage.
I yank my hand out of his and stand up awkwardly out of his office chair.
I turn my angry, streaming gaze and lock it on his confused but oh so handsome face. I point at him, shakily.
"You just don't get it do you?  Maybe I cannot find someone because my match has been here all along, and I have been too shy to say it. But you know what, Jason? Now I am not. You are blind. So very blind. Perhaps, by some small chance, the matchmaker matched himself this time?"
I grow silent, as I watch understanding replace confusion on his face. He nods, as the same face begins to contort into a mask of sympathy. My hand shoots up between us, as a warning of silence and he freezes, an alarmed expression in his eyes. My mouth opens to explain further, but I crack, and run out of the office to my closely parked SUV. I throw it in drive, having backed it into the spot, and drove in the direction of my dormitory at the University.
As I wait at the stop sign, I see him stand by the door, watching me.
Crap! I forgot to give him his last paycheck. I'll just mail it. There is no way I can stand to be rejected by the person I love dearly. I watch him run back inside, and am disappointed and relieved at the same time. I know I did not give him a chance for a love confession, but I cannot see him again. I am in too deep.

I throw my bag on the floor and open my window, to let the sounds of the evening seep into my room. I grab my guitar, my notebook, and a pen and sit on the window sill. Jason inspired me to write so many news songs during my time with him, songs of love and anger and patience. Songs that exuded life. I begin to expertly write another, while my emotions peak:

Who would have thought?
We would love this much-

No. I would only write that if he loved me back.
I try again. I write until my song is complete and perfect. I glance at the clock to see that two hours went by, and set my paper down so I can see the whole thing, nonplussed. Pleased, I grab my guitar and my rolled up sleeping bag, and head for the door of my dorm to the campus lake. It is now dark outside, and I know nobody will be there.

Situated by the water's edge, I listen to the frogs croak, and the water move. It calms my peaked state to a degree of acceptance. I'm not the type of girl to be heartbroken. After my parents divorced and then my brother died in a car accident, nothing seemed to hurt. I suddenly become very sad, as it hits me that I am hurting, almost as much as when those terrible things happened. To distract myself from the impending pain, I pick up my old guitar and begin to play my song:

The sounds outside numb me
The voices freeze me
I'm not going
I'm not moving

All I own is a heart
A broken and tattered one
You can fix it
But you won't

I know I'm not much
But maybe I need a chance

Let the rain fall on your face
Let the world see all your mistakes
Do something daring
Hold my hand
And never let go
I'm your match

When you're near
I feel so warm
Just touch me
And I soar

Your smile is so lovely
I want it all
Just accept me
Accept my song

Let the rain fall on your face
Let the world see all your mistakes
Do something daring
Hold my hand
And never let go
I'm your match

I'm your match

Love is strange
Love is wonderful
Even if you
Never noticed me

My guitar rings with the final note as my voice stops. It is too perfect. It makes my heart feel full, but I don't want to feel all these things- love, forgiveness, tolerance.
I silently wish I never met the matchmaker.
My fists clench, trying to expel the feelings, and then, in anger, I tear the page out of my notebook, crumble it up, and throw it to my left. I do not follow the path, but I hear it hit the ground. The small splat is my undoing and I cry.
For the first time since I can remember, I actually cry. Over a guy who won't love me. Classic. Why couldn't it be about something unique? I throw my old guitar on the grass next to me, and stand up, preparing my sleeping bag.

I lay under the old, scary willow tree where Jason and I spent so much time planning my relationship. This place now symbolizes peace and hope for me. I pick up my phone. There are no missed calls or texts. He never tried to contact me. My tears flow again, and the stars above blur.
"If you cry again, I do not think ill be able to contain myself."
I jump and turn towards the voice, and see Jason sitting against the trunk of the tree behind me. My tears begin to flow faster and I twist and sit up. He jumps up, walks up to me and sits down behind me. He pulls me to him in an embrace.
"I told you I wouldn't be able to contain myself.  My heart breaks, knowing you are crying because of me."
There is no denying it. My tears do not slow while I am in his arms. If anything, they grow stronger, as I know this feeling of his warmth surrounding me will not last. He pulls back. "Your song about ripped me apart."
My song?
"You know. The one you so beautifully sang and then threw out the window?"
He holds up a piece of crumpled paper. My song. "I am going to be truthful, sweetheart. It took me all of two seconds after your outburst to realize that I love you, and that everything I felt for you all along was simply love and admiration. The weird, monstrous feeling I had watching you with Charlie, the warmth in my chest when I saw you smiling, the bubbling elation when I witnessed your anger and then happiness when I threw you into the sea after Charlie left, last night, and my peace when I would watch you sleeping under this exact tree when we came here. I was so stupid. I love you, and I loved you all along."
I stare at his familiar brown, curly hair and dark eyes with so much love and shock it hurts my chest. He continues, though.
"So the matchmaker has fallen for one of his clients. An impossibility, but when you look at what you've done for me, for my soul, it really is no wonder. You healed me." My level of happiness exceeds that of a human, and my body feels as if it is soaring.
At this time, I can only throw my arms around his neck. "I love you so much, and I never want to be matched with anyone else."
He laughs "So is this check mate?" I smile, at the memory. When I first met him, he made me play a game of chess with him, as a visual for his matchmaking plan. He beat me twice in a row, and that supposedly signified how good he was at his job. He told me it is impossible to put him into check mate.
I giggle.
"Yes. I've looked at it from every angle. This is surely-" He kisses me for the first time, silencing me, and melting away my train of thought.
Sparks fly through my body, and I feel like a flame itself.
After a spell, he pulls back and whispers in my ear, "Checkmate".