Soulmate

Dawn

Warm sunlight falls onto my face. I groan and roll away. My body is heavy and stiff with exertion and my arms are sore in several places. My head feels five pounds heavier and I am not ready to wake up. I pull the blanket over my head.

Wait. I don't have any windows in my bedroom.

The memories come back, my confessions, the ceremony, my sister's wedding, Talha's seemingly innocent but now suspicious questions. My head hurts. If I'm not home, where am I?

I push myself into a sitting position. I'm in a small white room with a tiny window letting light filter in. There's a single lightbulb hanging from the center of the ceiling and chain to turn it on and off. The mattress I was sleeping on seems kind of old and the sheets smell like detergent. Next to the mattress sits a little desk with some folders, and a dresser.

I'm still in my uniform for work, so I hope Talha hasn't touched anything.

I rub my eyes. My hands come away smudged brown and black and silver. I didn't wash off my makeup. Of course. I could probably do some washing up in the restrooms, but just the thought of that makes me kind of cringe.

Where am I?

I leave the room through the only door. On the front, it's labeled "Janitor." Huh. So I guess I'm still in Chapel. I've passed by this door, like, a million times and never suspected anything. We don't even have a janitor. We are the janitors.

I wash off my makeup in the restroom, and then check the time in the lounge. It's 6:51. The doors must be open. I should go grab some breakfast, but first I need to find . . . Talha.

Not surprisingly, I find him in the main room, at the altar. He's leaning elegantly against a pillar while writing in a notebook. Talha is so into it that he doesn't notice me until I give him a tap on the shoulder.

"Hey," I say. "Morning, Talha."

"I thought you were still sleeping," he replies, straightening his posture and closing his notebook. "You didn't get much sleep."

"You didn't either," I gesture at him. I'm kind of sick of Talha worrying about my condition when he's in the exact same one.

"Yeah, but I don't need much sleep," he mutters, looking flustered. "Look, I'm not used to being around . . . other people . . . it's hard getting used to it and I might not react the way you expect me to. Especially when people actually, like, worry about my well-being."

Well, that's kind of sad.

I let out a low chuckle and shove Talha playfully. He tilts his head but his eyes glitter with amusement. "Come on, you doofus, let's go get breakfast," I laugh.

We walk down the street to the little breakfast booth. Talha doesn't quite seem to know how to order, which causes him to stutter in embarrassment. In an attempt to be gracious, I don't laugh at him.

"Watch and learn, Talha," I say.

"Take it away," he shrugs.

I clear my throat and angle the microphone toward me. "The strongest coffee you have, with half a cup of milk and two teaspoons of sugar," I order. "A toasted bagel with strawberry cream cheese. Scrambled eggs."

"Berry yogurt with granola, orange juice, and two pancakes," Talha calls out after I do.

Within seconds the orders pop out in front of us. We decide to sit outside since the weather is so nice.

"Do you think we'll have to go back to the Chapel for work today?" I ask.

"No one gets married on a Monday," he laughs.

"Great," I sigh. "I need a break."

"From work?"

"No," I mutter. "I need a break from watching couples. It's only six months until I'm eighteen and I haven't found anyone."

"You can use BodyScan," Talha points out. BodyScan is a project that does full body scans of people and document their marks. After the scan, the company will leave a message on your newsfeed, on whether or not they found your match. Most of the time, it's a negative. I'd say it's a one out of five chance of finding your match.

Although, in my case, it's definitely a zero chance.

"I don't want to use BodyScan. I don't trust a machine with my future."

"You trust a machine to make your breakfast," Talha sighs.

"That's differ . . . okay."

"Yup," Talha says sarcastically. "Mm hm. I'll keep that in mind."

"Anyway," I say, steering the subject away from soulmates. "What is up with the janitor's closet?" I raise my eyebrows at him.

He sips from his orange juice a bit before answering. "Sometimes I stay the night at the Chapel."

"Sometimes enough to put up a permanent lodging?"

"Five nights out of the week, I'd say," Talha admits. "Yeah, I pretty much live at the Chapel."

"Aren't your parents, like, worried?" Whatever family Talha had, it was definitely more dysfunctional than mine.

"My mom is the head of Bodyscan's security department. My dad is a naval commander who's on duty right now. They don't have time to worry about a son."

"Well," I say uncomfortably. "They do care about you, don't they?"

"Yeah, sure, they try pretty hard, it's just that their jobs keep them from actually taking care of me." He stirs his yogurt around. "It could be worse."

"Of course!" I laugh. "Your parents could be dead."

He looks at me weirdly. "That's not funny."

"My parents are dead," I say straightly. "After a while you make yourself believe it's funny."

Rule #3: Don't talk about your dead parents.

Talha doesn't even pause, like most people I meet. He has to think before answering why he lives at the Chapel but announcing the deaths of one's parents won't faze him.

"So you live with your sister?" There's a bit of yogurt on his upper lip and it bothers me.

"Mm hmm . . ." I keep on staring at the yogurt on his lips. "Talha, you've got a little something on your lips."

"But your sister just got married. Won't she be moving out?" He licks the yogurt off. "Did I get it?"

"Yeah, it's gone now."

"What about your sister?"

"Her wife is moving into our apartment. It's going to be tight, but it's only until I'm eighteen. Then they're moving out." My skin crawls with the thought of having to live with Hirette for six months. Might as well just send me to hell early.

"Imagine hearing them have sex through the walls," Talha rolls his eyes. "It would be disgusting."

My stomach rolls. "You're weird, Talha."

"Why, thank you."

I smile. "You're very welcome." I fish around my pockets to find loose change that should cover the cost of the meal. Then I remember I spent it on a pack of gum the other day. "Shit," I whisper to myself.

"It's okay. This one's on me." Talha slips a few bills under the plates to hold them down. "Come on, let's go. We have the day off and I want to show you Valencia Park."

"I've never been there." I stand up. How out of place Talha and I must look, with our work uniforms.

"I know. No one goes there. It's real neat, though. You won't get it until you're there."