Page 39 of What are the Chances

Mason

SYNCHRONICITY.

I’m not sure why the word pops into my head at this particular moment, but it does, in fact, perfectly explain how I’m feeling. When I was in my last year of University, I had taken a psychology class. Having completed all the necessary courses to achieve my accounting degree, psychology was one of the last courses I was required to take to graduate.

I’m sitting on a large, grey rock in Alma’s front yard. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the bright green grass beneath my feet. It’s funny because as I keep my focus on the blades beneath my feet, I think about how it looks like my mother’s grass. The thing is, I know it isn’t my mother’s grass, but how could you really tell the difference unless you took a step back and looked at the whole picture?

As I study each blade, I’m reminded of synchronicity and the psychologist, Carl Jung, who had come up with this theory. He believed life was not a series of random events, rather an expression of a deeper order. This order was the culmination of more than just mere coincidences, but the universe showing you its greater plan. Almost as if these series of coincidental events was the plan all along.

I flex my hand, feeling the tense, bruised muscle retract beneath my skin. I laugh to myself, thinking back to all the moments that have led up to this one right now. The one where I’m sitting on a giant rock in front of Alma’s house. Fucking Carl Jung and his theories.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Sitting up, I look over my shoulder to find Charlotte walking toward me across Alma‘s small yard.

“Hey,” I sigh.

She gives me a closed-mouth smile in response as her feet brush against the green grass with every step. The warm breeze blows against her long, chestnut hair, exposing the creamy skin of her shoulders. I stare at her skin and the all too familiar twinge in the bottom of my stomach flutters as I’m reminded of last night… and this morning. How my mouth has explored every inch of that creamy smooth skin she so proudly displays. It’s as if she does it to tease me—like the tank top and shorts she wore to bed last night.

It’s now dark out, but the small lantern on Alma’s front porch shines just bright enough, I can make out Charlotte’s features. I scoot over and allow her space to sit beside me on the rock. She smiles and slides her arm under mine, gripping my bicep with her slim, delicate fingers. Turning her face toward me, she gives me a small smile before dropping her head on my shoulder with a happy sigh. We sit together, staring at the rolling green hills in front of us, the starry night sky hanging heavily above us.

“Actually,” I say, answering her question, “I was thinking about you.”

“Really?” she drags out, amused.

Planting a kiss on top of her head, I smile.

“I was. I was thinking about all that’s happened since I met you.”

“It’s weird, right?”

“It is,” I smile although I know she can’t see me.

“You weren’t supposed to agree with me, Mase.” She playfully taps my arm.

“Mase?” I chuckle. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that before. Come to think of it, no one ever has.”

“Well, you call me Char,” she shrugs. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she looks up at me with hooded, lazy eyes. The corner of her mouth curls into a small smile, and I melt all over again.

“I heard Sam call you that the day we got here,” I tell her. “I liked it.”

“I like hearing you say it,” she grins. “And those other words you call me.”

“Other words?”

“Yeah.” Her eyebrows furrow, and her eyes narrow in thought. “Aw…” Her jaw drops as she tries to say the word in Irish. “Aw-win?”

“Álainn.”

Her eyes spread wide open. “That’s it. Álainn. And what was the other one?”

“Mianach.”

“Yes, that’s the one. What do they mean?”

I close my eyes and sigh. It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, or they’re bad words, I just feel, until now, they’ve been a secret I’ve kept for myself. Something only I knew. But as her gorgeous sleepy eyes stay focused on me, I decide to tell her.

“Álainn means beautiful.” I think back to the first time I said it to her. Back when we had spent our first day together. The day when I realized she didn’t annoy me as much as I thought.

---