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Dorothy had not expected it. On the morning of her 16th birthday, she’d woken up just like any other day, ready for another day of her boring high school life, scribbling words and verses on the margins of her notebooks, trying to ignore that mostly everyone was ignoring her, then reading some more of For Whom the Bell Tolls over lunch, and in the afternoon being picked last for the sports team.
But it turned out from that morning on, nothing would be quite the same. She saw it when she washed her face. As the cold water splashed against her cheeks, she froze. For a moment, all she did was stare at the dark marking on her right wrist, lines that had definitely not been there last night. Of course, she’d heard of soulmates, who hadn’t? She knew people in school who couldn’t stop talking about theirs, already overeager to find their so-called ‘other half’, but she also knew many who’d hoped in vain for a name to appear on their skin.
In Dorothy’s family, it was rather uncommon, only some distant relatives had been lucky, and of those, not all had been lucky enough to actually find their soulmate. In light of that, Dorothy had sometimes pondered of the marks were actually worth the fuss everyone seemed to make about them. Plenty of people were in happy relationships without them, and more than one poor soul ended up old and alone due to their fruitless pursuit of their nowhere-to-be-found perfect match.
Incredulously, Dorothy now took in the letters that had revealed themselves on her wrist. What sort of name was that? It didn’t seem very American, more like something out of a French novel. Wait a second, she thought, that didn’t look like a boy’s name either. Blanche? She hadn’t taken a lot of French, but wasn’t that the word for white, with the female ending? Dorothy stared at her reflection in the mirror, her brown eyes wide in shock. This had to be a mistake, this couldn’t be right. A girl? Was that even possible? Didn’t everyone say it was a sin, a sickness? She felt nausea rising in her chest, and held on to the sink. What could she do? She could hardly reveal this to her parents, she could not reveal this to anyone. Lucky for her, she dressed rather conservatively, so hiding the mark would not be too hard, and for summer, well, she’d find a way. God, this was just the worst birthday ever, and it was only just beginning.
Admittedly, it was a pretty shitty day. The only good part had been her mother’s famous Cassata, a Sicilian version of the increasingly popular American cheesecake. Being a recent immigrant family trying to get by in New York of the 1940s, she was used to not getting big presents, and more than content with the three books she’d received this year, as well as the obligatory items for her dowry, this time a few hand-embroidered sheets.
After dinner, she was finally alone in her room – the perks of being the oldest of three siblings. Once more, she peeled back her sleeve, and to her dismay, the beautifully written bane was still very much there. All day, she’d found her other hand more or less consciously gravitating there, covering it even through the thick fabric of her winter uniform. She’d hardly been able to concentrate in class, her mind returning again and again to the shock state of her mind of that morning, and the hundred unanswered questions. Was it common to have a foreign soulmate? Would she have to go to France or Switzerland or wherever? What if they never coincided, if they never met? The world was huge. What a cruel joke of fate.
Couldn’t she have remained the wallflower with the undefined future? She really didn’t need this. All she wanted was to live a quiet life, become a teacher and give the future generations a good education. Now this name was hanging over her head like the figurative Damocles’ sword, threatening everything.
Over the next few days, Dorothy kept overthinking, going through all sorts of possibilities. Then, on Friday, a boy approached her in the hall, offering an unexpected distraction. Stanley was an average guy, with a big smile and a full head of hair, and he was the first one ever to ask her out. He was nice enough, had his own car, and invited her to the movies. One date turned into many, and as they were making out in the drive in movie, the inevitable happened.
“Hey, didn’t you say you didn’t have one?”
“I might as well,” Dorothy replied, trying to cover the mark with her hand.
“You don’t want me to see? I don’t care what it says. Let’s just have some fun. Come on.”
Dorothy relaxed, and decided to go for it. She could hardly have known the consequences this bit of fun would entail for her.
A few weeks later, she looked at the calendar, and a cold shiver ran through her spine. Was it really the end of the month already? In her head, she counted the days, and a terrible feeling spread through her body. Oh no. He’d been careful, it couldn’t be this. Surely it was just the stress caused by all the finals.
Of course, it was not. She’d been knocked up, and when she told Stan, he had the same look of panic as herself. They drove out to the coast at Greenwich, and walked along the shore, talking about it for hours. In the end, they agreed to wager this battle together, and went home to tell her parents. Her mother seemed to know something was up, and stayed with her while her Dad chased Stanley with a salami for 3 blocks. When they came back, her tears had dried, and her father accepted the marriage proposal. He was not happy, but he loved her more than anything, and if that meant helping her raise a baby when she was still not quite an adult herself, then that’s what he’d do.
Over the years, Dorothy never forgot about the name of her soulmate. She hid it under a big bracelet, while she raised her two kids and got her teaching certification in evening school. She managed to become a substitute teacher, and get food on the table when Stan’s novelty business couldn’t. In some particularly lonely nights, she found herself dreaming about a different life, about a different love, and wondered what this Blanche was up to. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Stan, but she could tell it wasn’t the real deal. Something was missing. He never seemed to fully understand her, he could hardly satisfy her, and sometimes Dorothy wondered if it was because she actually was… like that. Would it be different with a woman? She never dared to act on it, but she did appreciate female beauty in her friends and acquaintances, even in random ladies on the streets of New York. She wondered what it would be like to kiss their soft lips, to be resting against their warm curves.
When the terrible years of repression and persecution ended and gave way to the roaring sixties, student rebellions and sexual liberation, she felt that maybe not all was lost. Her kids were growing older, her marriage was growing staler – maybe there would be another life for her, even at this age. Maybe.
Too scared to end her old life, though, Dorothy stayed until she was fifty, had moved to Miami, and Stanley left her. He’d been cheating for years, and now, he wanted to live in Hawaii with some chick less than half his age. Despite everything, it hurt, and Dorothy had no idea where to start this new life. She had a job in Miami, but it didn’t pay too well, so looking for a place was everything but easy. She’d seen a lot of crappy, dark apartments in run down neighborhoods, when coincidence helped her. Doing her grocery shopping at a little supermarket, she browsed the ‘neighborhood notices’ board, and found an announcement for roommates. The little paper was handwritten, but it was not the bright yellow color that made Dorothy stop dead in her tracks. For a second, she didn’t know why, then it hit her – it looked just like her mark. Quickly, she read the few lines, advertising a room in a shared house on Richmond Street. At the bottom, there was a phone number and the name Devereaux. Dorothy’s heart was racing. That was a weird name. Probably French. With nervous fingers, she noted down the phone number. The price was very reasonable, and it would probably do her good not to live on her own, so she guessed she’d give it a try.
When she dialed the number that evening, she was more nervous than she’d been in a long time. She’d had to work up the courage to actually do it, and her heart was beating hard as she listened to the dial tone. Then, someone on the other end picked up.
“Devereaux?”
Dorothy cleared her throat. “Uhm, yes, my name is Zbornak, I’m calling about the advert for the room. Is it still available?”
“Ah, sure, it’s still free. When do you wanna come over and have a look? I got some people comin’ by tomorrow mornin’, so any time in the afternoon would be fine for me.”
It was a sweet, feminine voice with a thick southern accent, Dorothy thought as she listened. She sounded nice, not too young. At her age, she wouldn’t want to share a flat with some college students.
“That’s great, I could come by around two?”
“Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow then! It’d be great if you could bring a standard application form.”
Dorothy thanked her, and as she hung up, she took a deep breath. She shouldn’t get so worked up about this, I mean what were the odds?
The next day, her mother insisted she take her along. Ever since the stroke, she’d become more clingy, and used every chance she had to get out of her residence. As if this wasn’t already strenuous enough. So she picked her up at Shady pines and hoped for the best.
The house looked nice enough from the outside, with a few trees and a lawn. Roses were growing up a wall next to the door, and put a smile on Dorothy’s lips. When she rang the bell, they had to wait a few seconds, then a petite woman in a blue blouse and white pants opened the door. Behind her, was a strange looking woman with a spaced out look about her.
“Yes?”
“Are you Ms Deveraux?”
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m Dorothy Zbornak, this is my mother Sophia Petrillo. We spoke on the phone about sharing the house?”
“Yes, yes, come in,” she said, and so Dorothy did, only to be approached by the heavily made up fortune teller.
“Move in this house and you’ll die an agonizing death.”
“Thank you Madam Zelda, goodbye. – Oh ladies, I’m sorry about that! You get so many weirdos when you put an ad in the newspaper! Please sit down.”
Big blue jewels sparkled on her earlobes as she led them to the sofa, and asked them if they wanted both rooms. Dorothy explained that it was just her, and soon they were off to the tour of the house. As she looked at her, she couldn’t help but notice the bright eyes, cute nose and broad lips, and she had to make an effort to focus on the house.
On the lanai, Ms Devereaux explained, “It’s wonderful in the summertime, especially if you like to sunbathe with your top off.”
“Oh, and the neighbors can’t see in?”
“Sure they can.”
Dorothy blinked, but the landlady was already back on her way inside.
“That woman has slut embroidered on her underwear,” Sophia said.
They saw the rest of the rooms, the big and cozy kitchen, before they finally sat down in the living room once more to talk about the application. Dorothy sat beside her possible future roommate on the couch, and handed her the paper.
“May I just ask you a few questions?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
The woman looked at the questionnaire and then up. “Now, then, Dorothy-“ She suddenly paused, seeming surprised. “Dorothy Zbornak it is?”
Dorothy nodded, wondering what was up.
“Would you say you’re a neat person?”
“Yes, very neat.”
“Yeah, you’re neat and I wear a D cup.”
Ms Deveraux took a good glance at Sophia, and Dorothy feared she’d blown it. She should’ve known better than to take her mother along to this. But the interview continued, and in the end, it didn’t look too bad for her. And if her competition was Madam Zelda and the likes of her, she stood a chance.
A few days later, she got the call. Ms Devereaux informed her that she could have the room, and drop by anytime to do the paperwork. When Dorothy did, she came alone. They sat down over a cup of coffee, going over the contract details. In the end, Ms Devereaux handed her the paper and a pen with a big smile. Dorothy smiled too, feeling already very comfortable in this plant and wicker filled house, full of charme and flooded with light. As her eyes flew over the contract, she dropped the pen along with her jaw.
“Are you okay? Is there a detail we missed?” asked the landlady, handing her the pen she’d picked up.
“You- your first name –“ Dorothy stuttered. “Blanche?”
The other woman nodded. “My mother had a thing for French names. My sister’s called Charmaine, so I think I got off fine.”
Dorothy swallowed hard. “That’s not a very common name.”
“I guess not.” Blanche seemed a little tense now, too, fiddling with her gold watch. “Dorothy is more common. I’ve known a few.”
An awkward silence filled the room, as Dorothy hesitated to reply. Should she- could she? What if her hunch was wrong? Dorothy pushed her doubts aside, and signed the paper. With a smile, she handed it to Blanche, who put her signature at the bottom, too.
“Well, I guess that’s it. Welcome to your new home.”
“I am so glad. Can I move in on the weekend?”
“Sure!”
“I’d really like to get out of the old place as soon as possible, and deal with it from here.”
“Bad break up?” Blanche asked, sipping her coffee.
“Divorce, a pretty bad one.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright. He’s been cheating for a while, so I’m just glad it’s over. He wasn’t even my soulmate, so I’m surprised it lasted as long as it did.” Dorothy put down her cup. “How come you rent rooms? Have you been doing it for long?”
“Since my husband passed away, a few years ago.”
“Oh I’m sorry.”
“It’s just such a lovely place, the home where we raised our children, I couldn’t part with it, and it’s too big for me alone. Workin’ part time at the museum doesn’t pay that much, so I decided to get roommates. You’d be surprised how many middle aged women can’t afford their own place.”
Dorothy nodded. “I am a substitute teacher, so I get it.”
The two of them kept talking about their previous lives, their families and hobbies for quite a while, and at the end of the afternoon, it felt like they’d known each other forever.
Dorothy spent the next few days in giddy anticipation of the move. The other woman, a blonde named Rose, had chosen the same weekend to move in, so they all went grocery shopping together, getting to know each other. As to be expected with three women so different from one another, it didn’t go totally smoothly, but in the end they were sitting in the kitchen together, laughing their hearts out over a silly story involving herrings and trapezes, and Dorothy felt it might just work out wonderfully.
At dinner, Dorothy sat next to Rose, and as the latter reached out for her glass, the retreating hem of her shirt sleeve revealed a few big letters in clumsy handwriting.
“So Charly was your soulmate?”, Dorothy asked.
“He was, and the most wonderful one I could have wished for.”
Dorothy nodded, returning her attention to her side salad.
“How about you? Was yours?”
“No,” Dorothy and Blanche said simultaneously. In surprise, they looked at each other, and shared a soft, shy smile.
“So you have marks, too?” Rose was visibly excited. “Why didn’t you mention it? Didn’t you meet them yet? Did you not want to?”
Dorothy shrugged. “I was sixteen and pregnant, so I got married to Stan.” Then she looked over at Blanche, her pulse accelerated by her curiosity to know the beautiful belle’s story. But she kept her stare fixed on her plate.
“What’s up, Blanche?” Rose asked.
“When my mark appeared…” She cleared her throat. “Let’s just say there are some things that were not spoken about, especially in the old south.”
Rose looked at her in confusion.
“The only one who saw it that mornin' was my mammy, and she nearly fainted. She made me swear to not tell anyone.”
“What could possibly be so bad?” Rose couldn’t seem to fathom such a reaction, but Dorothy had a pretty good idea.
“You got a girl’s name, too?”
Blanche gasped, staring at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, too?”
Dorothy took a deep breath. “I got one. That’s why nobody knows I even have a mark in the first place.”
“And you never…” Blanche didn’t finish the sentence.
“I never dared. I stayed with my cheating piece of crap for 38 years, because I thought it was better, safer, than going down this road that I have no idea where it would lead. Not that I wasn’t tempted sometimes.”
Blanche nodded. “George knew he wasn’t my soulmate, and he didn’t care, not even when one night, the bracelet slipped and he saw it. Anyone else might have run off, called me names… He really was a wonderful guy, waited on my hand and foot, and made me happy enough, but… this never stopped naggin’ me.”
“This is so exciting,” Rose said, “What are their names? I will keep an eye out!”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“I’ll do it if you do,” Blanche said, and Dorothy almost lost herself in those clear blue eyes. They sparkled like ocean waves reflecting golden sunlight. If this was her, she thought, she wouldn’t object. The waiting would’ve been worth it.
After another deep breath, Dorothy nodded. “Alright.”
Taking off her bracelet in front of others felt eerily similar to like getting naked, Dorothy thought as she unclasped it, and placed it on the table. Blanche had taken off her gold watch as well, and looked at her. Then, at the same time, they turned their wrists to reveal the marks to each other. As much as a tiny part of Dorothy’s brain had expected or rather hoped for it, when she recognized her own name, in her own handwriting on Blanche’s wrist, her jaw dropped. Blanche was just as taken aback, looking at Dorothy’s arm, and her cheeks turned bright red.
“Hey, I can’t see, what’s up?”, Rose interrupted the moment. “What are the names?”
Instead of answering, both of them turned their wrists to face Rose.
“Hey, what a coincidence!” the blonde exclaimed, “They’re a match! What are the odds! Blanche, do you know another Blanche? I’ve got a Dorothy at work, I can-”
“Oh shut up, Rose,” Dorothy groaned, and pointed at Blanche’s mark. “That’s my handwriting.”
“And that’s mine,” admitted Blanche, and looked deeply into Dorothy’s eyes. “It really did take us a lifetime, huh?”
“I had a feeling it might be you, but I still can’t believe it actually is…”
“Oh, you mean you’re each other’s – oh, I see! Wow, this is amazing! We’ve got to celebrate!”
“Uh, well, there is a cheesecake in the freezer,” Blanche said.
“What kind?”
“Chocolate.”
Dorothy smiled. “My favourite.”
And so, as Dorothy shared her first of many cheesecakes with her new room- and soulmate, she thought back on that Cassata, and everything that had happened since she was that anxious sixteen year old girl. Now, it wasn’t that she didn’t feel anxious thinking about the future, but she knew, that after everything she’d been through, she’d be able to handle anything, and she deserved all the good that was still to come.