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Summary: Two, separate lives, being lived thousands of miles apart, forever altered by events beyond their control. Two, separate lives, being lived thousands of miles apart, coming to terms with those events in their own ways. Two, separate lives, converging one summer in a mutual haven.
“Letting go means to come to the realization that some people are part of your history, but not a part of your destiny.” – Steve Maraboli, Author
I have a thing with the theme of Destiny.
Destiny is defined as “The fixed order of things; invincible necessity; an irresistible power or agency conceived of as determining the future, whether in general or of an individual.”
In other words, as defined, Destiny is predetermined, and no matter what happens in the past, present, or future, one’s destiny is fated.
Destiny can therefore also be a tricky concept, one that’s hard to swallow or even appreciate because who the hell wants to be told that no matter what happens, will happen, or has happened, where you end up has already been decided?
Except, what if destiny isn’t necessarily a fixed, invincible loss of autonomy, as defined, but simply the ultimate definition of…whole? What if your destiny isn’t something or someone you’re bound to inevitably find, but rather something or someone you could conceivably go through life without knowing, while still leading a relatively happy and content existence?
Even more, what if destiny isn’t overt? What if you think you already met with destiny?
She spoke as if she were discussing something as innocuous as the fall weather outside, as incidental as the leaves cascading beyond the windows, the billowing breeze scattering them and portending the long winter ahead. Never mind that those leaves were once an integral part of the whole, and that with a brittle, unexpected snap, they’d cracked, shriveled, and disappeared from the Earth like specks of dust so minuscule they may as well have never existed.
What if by thinking you already met your destiny, whether for good or bad, you shut your eyes when it does arrive?
Once, during one of those visits up to Forks before my parents’ divorce, there was a meteor shower we watched from Godpop’s back yard. The meteors shot by so fast, those burning minerals moving so rapidly that I feared they’d shoot right down to Earth and through me and singe me to ashes.
‘Don’t be scared, Bella,’ my godpop said, kneeling down so he could meet my wary eyes, his chocolate ones warm and calm. ‘Do you know what meteors are?’
I shook my head, and when his whiskers twitched from side to side, I reached out and pulled on the rough strands, straightening them, using their unruliness as an excuse to keep my gaze from straying upward.
‘They’re just stars that already burned up a long, long time ago, and now, they can’t really hurt us.’
‘No matter what, Godpop?’ I asked tearily.
‘No matter what,’ he assured me. ‘Now, their only purpose is to illuminate the path for the stars that’ll come after them.’
It’s frightening, right – the thought that something is out there that’s meant just for you, yet you may never actually find it? Even worse, you may never even know it’s missing. But, if the stars happen to align in just the right manner, and one, simple summer night, when you’re least expecting it, you stumble upon that destiny…
“…not from around here…” I heard whispered. “…look at his city clothes…”
I ordered chicken tenders and fries for Trist – not the healthiest option but something I knew he’d eat without complaint if he happened to wake up hungry – and a chicken salad for me. Then, I took a seat on one of the counter-level stools and tuned out the furtive stares and hushed whispers while scanning my phone for messages that needed answering. There were a few from my parents, from Kate’s parents, from my sister, Alice, from Kate’s twin sister, Tanya, and from a couple of friends. I sent out short replies alerting everyone that Tristan and I had arrived safely and that I’d be in touch within the next couple of days.
The woman behind the counter reappeared, and I pocketed my phone as she handed me my to-go bag along with a friendly smile.
“Here you go, honey.”
“Thanks.”
“You need anything else?”
“Uhm…actually, can I please have some plastic utensils?” I was in no mood to dig through boxes and bags back at the house for utensils.
“Already put some in there! Ooh!” she exclaimed, “But I did forget the ketchup packets. Can’t have tenders without ketchup! Let me go grab you some.”
While she disappeared again, this time to find ketchup – and it would’ve indeed been a tragedy to unpack Tristan’s tenders without ketchup – I sat again. That was when I inadvertently honed in on a conversation occurring a few stools down from me...and a voice that seemed to cut through the rest of the clatter.
“Emily, I’ll be fine, really.”
“You should let me call them to come get you. You’re in no shape-”
“No, Em.”
“But your balance…”
“So, I’ll sway and stagger a bit from here to home. Maybe hit the floor once or twice. Nothing new, and no biggie. I’ve had worse.”
“Bella, that’s not funny.”
The person…Bella chuckled. “Admit it; it’s a little bit funny.”
At those words, I looked up. The other woman, another server behind the counter, was in about her early twenties and speaking to a woman…Bella, who sat a few stools down from me, gripping the edge of the counter with both hands. From my angle, she was slim and unremarkable, dressed like the poster child for a female lumberjack, with the requisite flannel checkered shirt paired with denim shorts, and a set of scuffed black combat boots. Her dark hair was swept up in a haphazard ponytail. When her boots hit the floor, she swayed unsteadily on her feet.
“Whoa.”
Apparently, Bella had pushed back one too many. I snorted quietly to myself, noting how even a town this small and remote had its requisite drunks.
“Don’t call them, Em. They all worry enough.”
Her voice had a pleading quality to it now, and I watched with an inexplicable sort of fixation as this Bella person staggered her way to the exit by clinging from one stool to the next. I considered offering my assistance – not in the form of a ride home, no; but perhaps by offering her Uber money. There had to be Ubers in this town, right?
In the next moment, it hit me:
If a town this small had your typical drunks, it would also have all other forms of vice and crime. And if it had crime, it had criminals, some of which might very well be maniac kidnappers.
‘Tristan, the chief here is the chief of police in Forks...’
That’s what I’d told my son, but Jesus, what the hell did I know about this Charlie Swan beyond what he and his wife told me? What proof did I have that any of it was true? What if he wasn’t really the chief of police? And so what if he was? For that matter, what did I know about his wife beyond the fact that she’d rented me a house via emails and texts?
I’d left my son alone in a car with a total fucking stranger.
Panic sent bile welling up to my throat, concurrently shooting adrenaline through my limbs.
I rushed toward the door, all fucking thoughts of ketchup annihilated. The hammering of my heart and the throbbing in my temples blurred my vision so that when the drunk, staggering woman – Bella – who was apparently still attempting to find her way to the door, stumbled out in front of me, I plowed into her, hard. The to-go bag of food between us bore the brunt, smashed between our chests.
“Oof!”
“Ow!”
After our collision, I instinctively grabbed her by the waist before she could go down – by her own admission, nothing new to her. Then, in one hasty and impatiently ungraceful motion, I set her solidly back on the nearest stool.
“Watch it!” I said sharply.
Her head snapped up.
Two brilliantly onyx eyes, more like black holes absorbing all constellations in their orbit, met my eyes. It was only later that night, while alone in my new bed, and with the knowledge that Tristan was safely in his bed, that I’d stopped to think about those eyes. They were amazingly deep and unclouded, especially for a drunk individual. It was as if…they’d swallowed up all light from the rest of the universe. Had I not been in the midst of almost blinding fear, I may have become completely lost in those eyes.
Because no matter what destiny is not, what it is, is the other side of the coin, the electric charge on the opposite side of the magnet, it’s the pull that keeps you coming back for more.
And that’s why I have a thing for the theme of Destiny. Because although two people may conceivably go through life just fine without meeting with it, when they do find their destiny…ohhh…
There’s nothing they can do to resist.
xx~OO~xx
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