Putting pencil to paper, I began to draw.
In a millisecond, everything changed. Tingles sped down my arms into my hands, and just like that I was drawing a picture that wasn’t Nate. I didn’t have any other image in mind, so I saw what the others saw, as it came to be on the paper in front of me.
My hand moved quickly, drawing lines, shading them in, moving on to another area of the page to do the same. The tingles increased, sort of like when your arm falls asleep and you get that numb but not quite numb feeling. That was exactly what it felt like, except it affected my entire body.
As weird as this was, I also knew I had the power to stop. That if I wanted to drop the pencil, I could. But something I couldn’t explain pulled at me, pushed at me, and I felt as if I had to finish this drawing. That nothing else mattered at that moment but completing the picture in front of me.
So, I drew. And drew. And finally, after I don’t know how much time, the image began to make sense. Sand met a water’s edge; a pile of seashells and a toy bucket with a shovel came into view. After that, a dog with big, floppy ears and a sideways grin. I have to admit, that made me chuckle. Here I was, supposedly drawing my soul mate, and a dog stared up at me from the page. Cute as he was, I doubted he was my forever after.
But then my hand drew the image of a little girl. And I recognized her from the vision I’d had with Miranda. This was my child. My daughter. Garbed in a sundress, she sat on one side of the dog, her hands digging into the sand, building the beginnings of a sand castle.
My heart raced and my breath caught in my throat. My daughter. I had a picture of my daughter before she was even born. How many people could say that?
My hand continued to move, but every part of me remained focused on the child. Her smile was wide, open, and carefree. She looked healthy and well taken care of. Which meant I hadn’t screwed up too badly yet. Yay for that.
When I heard Chloe gasp, I realized I was finally drawing the form of a man. My attention switched to him, and I waited with bated breath as my hand continued to move, continued to shade, continued to draw. All my prior arguments flew out the window. Because, guess what? I wanted to see his face.
If this man was truly my soul mate, then hell yes, I wanted to see his face. My hand moved faster, so fast that my arm began to cramp. My fingers gripped the pencil tighter, sending another spasm through my arm. Ignoring the ache, I waited for the image to be finished.
And then, finally, it was. I dropped the pencil on the table. It landed with a soft clack before rolling off, soundlessly hitting the floor below.
“Oh, no,” Chloe whispered.
“What?” Grandma Verda stood and then walked over to us. “Well, that’s not good.”
“It can’t be that bad.” Elizabeth followed in Grandma Verda’s footsteps, stopping on the other side of me. She bent forward, the movement causing her hair to cover her eyes. Pushing it away, she sighed. “All right, that sucks.”
Disappointment I hadn’t expected brushed against me, drowning out my anticipation. I ran my fingers over the drawing I’d just completed, and let out a sigh of my own. Maybe this man in front of me, put on paper by my own hands, really was my soul mate, but I’d never know who he was. At least, not based on this image. He knelt on the other side of the sand castle, across from my daughter, but all I could see was his backside. From the soles of his bare feet past the edges of his swim trunks, up to his bare back, to the—yep—back of his head. Not one part of his face showed.
“He must be nice, this man. I mean, he’s building a sand castle with someone else’s child, so he must be a good man, right?” I muttered.
“How do you know she isn’t his child?” Chloe asked.
“Because she’s my daughter. I saw her last night, when I was with Miranda.”
“Oh!” My grandmother squeezed my shoulder.
In a millisecond, everything changed. Tingles sped down my arms into my hands, and just like that I was drawing a picture that wasn’t Nate. I didn’t have any other image in mind, so I saw what the others saw, as it came to be on the paper in front of me.
My hand moved quickly, drawing lines, shading them in, moving on to another area of the page to do the same. The tingles increased, sort of like when your arm falls asleep and you get that numb but not quite numb feeling. That was exactly what it felt like, except it affected my entire body.
As weird as this was, I also knew I had the power to stop. That if I wanted to drop the pencil, I could. But something I couldn’t explain pulled at me, pushed at me, and I felt as if I had to finish this drawing. That nothing else mattered at that moment but completing the picture in front of me.
So, I drew. And drew. And finally, after I don’t know how much time, the image began to make sense. Sand met a water’s edge; a pile of seashells and a toy bucket with a shovel came into view. After that, a dog with big, floppy ears and a sideways grin. I have to admit, that made me chuckle. Here I was, supposedly drawing my soul mate, and a dog stared up at me from the page. Cute as he was, I doubted he was my forever after.
But then my hand drew the image of a little girl. And I recognized her from the vision I’d had with Miranda. This was my child. My daughter. Garbed in a sundress, she sat on one side of the dog, her hands digging into the sand, building the beginnings of a sand castle.
My heart raced and my breath caught in my throat. My daughter. I had a picture of my daughter before she was even born. How many people could say that?
My hand continued to move, but every part of me remained focused on the child. Her smile was wide, open, and carefree. She looked healthy and well taken care of. Which meant I hadn’t screwed up too badly yet. Yay for that.
When I heard Chloe gasp, I realized I was finally drawing the form of a man. My attention switched to him, and I waited with bated breath as my hand continued to move, continued to shade, continued to draw. All my prior arguments flew out the window. Because, guess what? I wanted to see his face.
If this man was truly my soul mate, then hell yes, I wanted to see his face. My hand moved faster, so fast that my arm began to cramp. My fingers gripped the pencil tighter, sending another spasm through my arm. Ignoring the ache, I waited for the image to be finished.
And then, finally, it was. I dropped the pencil on the table. It landed with a soft clack before rolling off, soundlessly hitting the floor below.
“Oh, no,” Chloe whispered.
“What?” Grandma Verda stood and then walked over to us. “Well, that’s not good.”
“It can’t be that bad.” Elizabeth followed in Grandma Verda’s footsteps, stopping on the other side of me. She bent forward, the movement causing her hair to cover her eyes. Pushing it away, she sighed. “All right, that sucks.”
Disappointment I hadn’t expected brushed against me, drowning out my anticipation. I ran my fingers over the drawing I’d just completed, and let out a sigh of my own. Maybe this man in front of me, put on paper by my own hands, really was my soul mate, but I’d never know who he was. At least, not based on this image. He knelt on the other side of the sand castle, across from my daughter, but all I could see was his backside. From the soles of his bare feet past the edges of his swim trunks, up to his bare back, to the—yep—back of his head. Not one part of his face showed.
“He must be nice, this man. I mean, he’s building a sand castle with someone else’s child, so he must be a good man, right?” I muttered.
“How do you know she isn’t his child?” Chloe asked.
“Because she’s my daughter. I saw her last night, when I was with Miranda.”
“Oh!” My grandmother squeezed my shoulder.
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