Chapter Text
It’s not that I hated my words. It’s just… they implied that I would be found, not find. Do you have any idea what pressure that puts on a little four year old? I didn’t even know how to write back then! Or read, for that matter. Well, if you ignored the four words on my arm, that is.
Anyway, back to the point. Little old – well, not-so-old – me, going off to my first day of kindergarten, being told that my words were “very special, and that’s why you need to make sure your greet-words are just as special, okay?”. And well, little baby me thought that it meant I needed special greet-words for everyone I met.
So, off I went to the door, saying goodbye to my mom, and said to the teacher, “You’re too old to be mine, but mommy said I should say special greet-words.”
Then I walked in, and waved hello at a bunch of kids. The one in a teal… jacket? Or was it a shirt… anyway, a kid wearing teal pulled me away and said “M’ name’s Brandon.”
I know Brandon was wearing teal, because my words were, “What colour is that?”, pointing straight at his chest.
Next was a girl in pigtails that I pulled away, and I told her, “I don’t think we’re soulmates, but let’s check.”
For the record, she wasn’t.
“What do you think about leopards?”
“Do you know what a char-melon is?”
I’m very glad that the kid that shook their head at me wasn’t my soulmate, because having my inability to pronounce chameleon forever written in someone’s skin is not something I want.
“Do you know that a lizard can grow another tail?”
Anyway, enough examples, I think. The point is, by the end of the day, I hadn’t said the same greet-words to anyone twice. Other kids sometimes did it too, but not to that extent. I didn’t tell my parents, because I thought they already knew. The teachers didn’t say anything, because they thought it was just a harmless fun quirk. The other kids didn’t say anything, because it’s rude to listen to someone else exchanging greet-words.
No one noticed. No one said a thing for years. I spent years thinking it was normal to blurt out whatever you had on your mind at the time. I learnt it was a weird thing to do three years later, in year 3. A creative project, drawing two people and two sets of words connecting them together. The words on your arm, and the greet-words you use.
“But what if I don’t have greet-words?”
“Don’t be silly, I know you said greet-words to me when we first met.”
“But those words were for you. They’re not going to be my greet-words to my soulmate.”
I became ‘the kid without greet-words’. I feel like I need to clarify, this wasn’t a bad thing. A weird thing, maybe, but my friend group prided themselves on being weird, and the rest of the school forgot about it a week later. We all had our weird quirks, and not having greet-words didn’t even make the top five. Like Mel eating tree sap as if it was candy, or Peggy preferring to chat while hanging upside down by her knees. Or her ankles, she wasn’t that picky.
Going back on track, I now knew that having one set of greet-words was normal. I, however, enjoyed being weird, and doubled down on never repeating greet-words. I memorised endless facts and several riddles. I went through a phase in which I would tell everyone I met a different “what would you get if you crossed…” joke. I also had one where I would quote random song lyrics, or book passages, or movie lines. Once, on an outing, I brought along a poem and quoted one line to everyone I met.
…I was a bit of an annoying kid, but in my defence, everyone had some obnoxious phase or another.
So, I spent my childhood years coming up with a special set of words for every stranger I met. Because my words were confirming words, not finding ones. Only for all that to go out the window when I finally heard them.
Yeah, that’s right, Alex, this whole thing was a setup to complain about your dang words!
Let me set the scene. Here I am, at a store, grabbing some stuff. I have a basket of miscellaneous groceries, contents unimportant. There’s a cheery teen at the check out, short black hair, same old striped uniform and perky smile. I walk up to the register and put down my stuff. Then I hear, “At last, my soulmate!”.
My head snaps up, obviously. Did I say something without meaning to? Was I muttering something under my breath except it clearly wasn’t if this cashier heard it…
“Don’t worry, we probably aren’t soulmates. It’s just, everyone acts like everyone you speak to can be your soulmate, so I just…”
“Those are your greet-words?”
We stare at each other. Alex blinks. I blink.
“So, uh,”
“Sorry, it’s just-”
“Are your soulwords…”
“Are yours?”
We roll up our sleeves. Sure enough, side by side,
‘Those are your greet-words?’ and ‘At last, my soulmate!’
“So, hi! Nice to meet you, soulmate.”
“Good to meet you too.”
“I’m Alex.”
“Carter.”
“As wonderful as this is, can you two do this later? There’s a bit of a line here!”
“Right, sorry. Uh, do you have paper?”
“No, but I do have a pen. And I can print a receipt?”
“Right. Um, how much?”
“Give me a sec… twelve dollars and seventy cents.”
I scribbled down an email address and left the receipt with Alex. Three hours later, I got a notification for my inbox.
And that, everyone, is the story of how I met the annoyance of my life, the blinding sunlight to my calm shadows, the…
“Aww, love you too, Carter.”