Red Thread

Red Thread

by Sydney Wang

An old Chinese legend states that everyone has a red string that connects them to the person they’re destined to love.

Everyone has a string. A string of fate, of love and hope.

Sometimes strings stretch and tangle, but never do they break. Destiny assured and etched into stone by the red knot tied around one’s pinky finger.

But is fate so permanent? For not everyone is destined to a happy ending. And who is to say that life, such a grand and unpredictable power, can be held in check by a flimsy red string?

“I feel like such a stalker,” I complained.

“It’s for a good cause.”

“You didn’t deny the stalker part,” I pointed out.

Rose glared in response. “Quit being a drama queen.”

Like the mature teenager I was, I stuck my tongue out at her.

“Quick, they’re moving.” My sister pulled on my arm, taking us away from the tree we’d been hiding next to and into the throngs of people that filled the outdoor mall.

I sighed in acceptance, letting her drag me along.

“I got them to go on a date. I don’t understand why I have to follow them,” I muttered under my breath as we kept our eyes on the giggling couple.

I’d spent a few weeks following the trail of the dull, red thread connected to our client. Painstaking months were dedicated to finding his fated partner, and when it was finally over I’d been eager to put it all behind me. Of course, Rose had then dragged me out of the house to stalk the couple, who were meeting for the first time.

“It’s our job to see it through to the end, Zhu.” The annoyance at the familiar argument dripped from her voice. “We’re not the most successful matchmakers in the country because of half-assed work.” She emphasized her point with a condescending flip of her hair, like the explanation was obvious and something I should have understood from the beginning.

“But the threads match,” I pointed out. “According to grandma’s destiny mumbo jumbo, they’re a fated pair.”

Rose sighed. “Grandma also explained that the threads don’t always let people meet.” I scowled at the reminder of Grandma’s favorite lecture. “We’ve been given a gift that lets us circumvent barriers like time and distance, and we need to make sure that the threads will recognize their meeting and take their bond, Zhu.”

“Fine, fine, just stop calling me that in public,” I growled, yanking my arm from her hold.

Rose had always been the one to take the job more seriously. The one who believed in all the pride and tradition our grandmother preached. She loved being a matchmaker. On the other hand, I was more of a realist.

I stuck my hands in the pockets of my jeans, slouching down as we made our way through the throngs of people. “A date to the mall is super cliché. Didn’t I tell him to take her somewhere unique?” I sighed as we passed a group of giggling teenagers.

“You told him to take her to a graveyard,” Rose said without turning away from the couple.

“It’s unique and shows creative effort. I don’t see the problem.” My sister elected to ignore me.

We wandered around the stores, Rose powering through the crowds as I followed at a more relaxed pace. In my faded and torn jeans and my favorite Star Wars T-shirt featuring a cartoon depiction of Yoda and the words “My Yoda shirt this is,” I looked like a nerd who’d been forced into social interaction. My sister was pretty much the opposite. Her intricately styled braid perfectly complemented her outfit: bright white jean shorts and a blue, flowerpatterned blouse.

You wouldn’t have known we were related if it wasn’t for the fact our hair was the same shade of raven black, and our noses were both button-shaped and low-ridged.

The couple in front of us made a turn, disappearing around a corner. My sister frowned as we rounded the corner to find a large crowd of people milling around, obstructing our view.

I turned towards my sister with a beaming smile. “Oh well, it looks like we lost them,” I said with a shrug. She looked unimpressed. “Zoe.” “Rose,” I snarked back. She glared at me, eyes hardened like glinting steel. I held her gaze defiantly for a moment before heaving out a dramatic sigh.

“Okay, okay, just give me a second.” I closed my eyes, the sounds of mallgoers fading to a mumbling drone in the background. Taking a deep breath, I let my mind center into a familiarly comfortable corner. With practiced ease, I reached for the mentally constructed switch glowing in the darkness and flicked it on. I opened my eyes.

The sudden influx of color in the world made me wince. The overwhelming shades of red always gave me a headache. The strings crisscrossed every which way, glowing in every possible shade of red. They spun and tangled together into the world’s largest abstract tapestry.

It took me a few moments to regain my bearings. Blinking, I focused in on a familiar distinct shade of crimson. Both ends of the thread pointed in a similar direction, curling into a loosely floating “u” that drifted down the outdoor mall.

Leading my sister through the crowds, I followed the distracting trail of flowing red thread swaying ethereally in an unseen wind.

The string guided me around the turns between shops.

“A Starbucks, really!” I said, zeroing in on the string caught in the familiarly monogrammed door. “Of all the places to go for a date…”

“Really, Zhu?! Priorities.” My sister sent me an exasperated look as I shoved open the doors of the shop.

“I told you, don’t call me Zhu!” I hissed, rounding on my sister with a furious glare. She met it with one of her own, her lip curled in defiance.

I knew she was messing with me. The sibling competitiveness between the two of us had always been volatile, but I was annoyed and fed up with the air of superiority she’d been projecting all morning. I opened my mouth to deliver a scathing insult.

“Stop!” a woman’s high pitched voice interrupted. I looked over. In the back of the short line, a familiar looking woman was struggling against the hand on her arm, her eyes wide with fear as a tall man leered at her with a casual smirk.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” he drawled. “I just want to chat with you.”

Watching the woman flinch away from his outstretched hands, I moved forward. All the rage that had just moments ago been directed toward my sister boiled under my skin, seeming to erupt as my fist made contact with his face.

The guy went down hard and fast, slamming into the floor at the force behind my punch. The shop that had previously been filled with casual conversation was now silent. I grinned, the stinging feeling in my knuckles drowned out by a sense of vindictive achievement.

I looked down on the man who was lying on the floor, hand pressed to his bruised cheek. “Hey man, when a lady says stop it’s impolite to not listen.”

“Zoe?” I startled at the sound of my name.

My eyes met with the young man we’d been stalking. His arms were wrapped protectively around the brunette girl who had been harassed by the man on the floor, eyes wide with shocked recognition. The crimson thread drifted in the air, one end tied around his right pinky, the other curled around the finger of the girl in his arms.

Suddenly, it dawned on me why the girl looked so familiar.

“Hello Mr. Gardner, don’t mind us. Just stopping by for a cup of joe.” I raised my hand in a nonchalant wave.

“Trevor, you know them?” the girl asked meekly, her eyes wide and still full of fear darting back between the man on the floor and me.

“Oh, we’re just his matchmakers,” I answered, gesturing towards Rose. “We’re here to make sure that you two find lifelong happiness, get married, have babies, and grow old next to each other as you sit in matching rocking chairs on a white porch, starring in erectile dysfunction commercials,” I finished with a pleasant smile.

Rose groaned, head falling into her hands in exasperation.