Tomorrow is my wedding day, with someone I have never met, but I know they will be my soulmate. That is the comforting, never once failed, unconditional guarantee of our world. A society that knows no heart break. I stare at my 19-year-old face in the dusty mirror and my brown long hair aches to be brushed. Butterflies crowd in my stomach as I imagine who my soulmate will be, allowing myself to be filled with hope knowing there is someone who will love my beauty marks and messy hair and uneven bangs.
When I was younger, my sister and I would sit with legs crossed and eyes wide, listening to our mother’s tales of the past. Times when people weren’t really in love. When love was fake and marriage never lasted forever.
“It was called div oar ss” my mom whispers the words as if she speaks any louder we’ll be in trouble. The word tastes like marbles in my mouth when I whisper them back, unfamiliar and unwanted. I feel my sister shudder next to me.
“Why would people get married in the first place if they didn’t love each other?” I would demand. Divorce confused me more than it scared me.
“It was a complicated time. There were people called lawyers… family lawyers to help sort out those issues. Parents would fight for custody over children. Lives were torn apart.” My sister and I stared at my mom wordlessly. I could never imagine a world with divorce. No one here has ever fought about love. There should never be a reason to.
“You girls have nothing to be afraid of.” My father would even remind us. He’d wrap us up, his voice as warm as honey, promising us a forever love.
Our society knows everything it needs to know about every one of us to ensure a healthy marriage. Our personalities have been picked apart, our pet peeves and passions analyzed. So why wouldn’t there be the perfect person out there waiting for me?
“I’ve heard some couples still want div or ce. Even now. Even in our society.” My friend Jamie would tell me at recess. A look of mischief gleaming in her eyes.
“No Jamie. You’re wrong. My mom and dad told me so.” I’d retort proudly. But the truth is, maybe Jamie is right. As I stare at the person that was promised to love me forever I still feel uneasy and I still feel unlovable. Maybe divorce is a good thing. That’s the last thing I think to myself as I pack my bag to leave for good. It’s been 2 years and it’s nothing like what I was promised. I don’t know where I’m going but if I find a place where divorce exists, I know I’ll be happy.