The Matcher

"The Transition" CHAPTER ONE "Hopeless romanticism" is a concept realists find trouble in empathizing with but find no trouble in laughing at. While the romantics sit at coffee shops and attempt to read, with their eyes actually, restlessly darting around the room, trying to spot the person who should walk up to them any second to compliment them, sit down, buy them a second cup and fall in love, the realists are across the room at table number four, bouncing around dry sentences that are completely wrung out from any belief in so called true love. Katie may say to Carrie who nods her head in agreement that "Love is an illusion, something people dreamt up to ward off the haunting idea that we are born alone, live alone and die alone." under the pretext that Danny broke up with her on the night of prom. Katie and Carrie are realists who "joined the club" two years ago. Said club consists of people whose force field against often attached heartbreak is to simply stop believing in love. They don't want to feel stupid either, because being super thrilled for a few months and then having to tell your family and friends that it didn't work out is embarrassing. They don't want to be fools but they certainly are fools in believing that being a romantic gets you nowhere. The reason I'm so sure of this is that even though I died when I was nineteen, long before having the chance to even meet my soul mate (I think), I still managed to end up with more than most people for the sole fact that I truly believed in love. I believed (and still believe) that it always conquers and that for one, it exists. Now you're probably all “what, Devon, you just said that you died, why the eff are you talking like you’re still alive???” Yea, well, my afterlife is not really the norm, to say the least. I was working at the market on a Sunday morning, just like I had been doing 3 Sundays before and 3 Sundays before that. My mum and Dad owned a booth since I had been seven. Dad took care of the pumpkins and other veggies and Mum took care of the finer details like the flowers, the wrapping and the chalkboard signs that read "fresh-picked, 100% organic" and "3 for 5$". I took care of making the customers laugh with my big brown eyes, chubby cheeks and child wit. The older I got, the more I could do and now they even let me run the booth on my own during the afternoon. So it was Sunday, and fate just wasn’t on my side. This young guy, probably five years older than me was looking pretty nervous as he chose some tomatoes and fresh basil. Then, right before leaving, he noticed my mum’s arrangements and pulled out another 8 dollars from his leather wallet and I swear that change pocket was alive with metallic rhythm, his hands were shaking so much. He handed me the cash from his last-minute purchase and his phone began ringing. The short conversation confirmed my forming suspicions. “Hey you! You’re still coming to my place later right? Good! I can’t wait either. Yea. Yea, I have something super important to say, well it’s more of a question really. Of course I’m cooking. There’s no way we’re getting take-out tonight. Ok yea. I love you too. Bye.” Definitely proposing. Definitely. He thanked me for “everything” and left. He wasn’t the type to walk too far for a crosswalk so he looked quickly both ways and dashed to the other side before the white Jeep coming from the left could reach him. I returned to split-vision so that I could add to my sales notebook and still be aware of new customers. That’s when I saw a blur of pale yellow on the counter in front of the cash; he forgot the roses for his girlfriend. I have this instant image flash in my mind of his perfect night being ruined or at least watered down. People underestimate the power of flowers. Quickly following the vision, my body is filled with a rush of heroism in the name of love. I asked our neighbor Joyce to watch my booth for a minute, said I’d be right back. I too, didn’t bother with the crosswalk and got to the other side easily enough, one car went by and I saw the next few would only reach the spot I was at in a minute. The guy was already in his car. His blinker was on and he was ready to pull out but he noticed my out-of-breath figure with the flowers held high in a statue-of-liberty-pose-but-with-elaborate-waving-motions in his rearview mirror. I came around the car to the passenger side and he rolled down the window before I was quite there. “No way man! I can’t believe I did that. Thank you so much seriously. People underestimate the power of flowers, you know?” I said I know because I did know. It had been my exact thoughts and I have not a single doubt that by this time tomorrow, this man will be engaged. “I gotta get back to the other flowers!” I said. Right away he’s “Same, same. I got some spaghetti to get cooking.” “Don’t forget the onions.” At first his expression told me he had no clue why I would tell him “not to forget the onions” but then recognition flooded his face and he laughed. I only said it to tease him about forgetting the flowers. “Good luck.” I said genuinely this time. He thanked me again and drove off. For a few moments, my eyes followed his car and then I stepped back into the road, lost in thoughts of what his girlfriend might look like and what her expression might look like when he pulls out her ring.