Chapter 1
Tag: fantasy, mystery, romance, innocent, cute, sheltered, besotted
When I was born, something happened to me.
I didn’t realize there was anything strange until I turned sixteen and started to have visions. The first time it happened, I was at school paying attention to a lesson and it suddenly seemed like a little number popped out of nowhere beside the head of a boy I secretly fancied.
I stared at that number very puzzled and shocked and looked around the class wondering if someone was using a laser that made the numbers appear in that strange way. But no one was looking in his direction and he continued to talk normally to a boy seated beside him, like nothing was the matter.
I stared at him for a whole minute wondering if something I had eaten that morning could have possibly made me sick or if, somehow, I was just having a bad day and should make nothing of that little sign. I rubbed my eyes a dozen times and the little, yellow sign continued firmly in its place and stayed in there for all day long.
It was a number 4.
For the rest of the day I didn’t look in his direction, afraid I would start seeing something even more absurd.
I arrived home feeling puzzled and uneasy with myself. What sort of thing was that number on the boy’s head? It was big enough that I could see and it had a yellow, bright color to it, which made it perfectly visible but no one seemed to care. It made me wonder if I was showing some signs of craziness...
I lived with my auntie for as long as I could remember. She was a very serious, rigid woman who didn’t allow me to leave home or to make many friends. It was really a miracle she let me go to school and to the grocery store but, apart from these places, I was always basically home and never had much to do outside the protectiveness of our little house.
On that particular day, my birthday, Auntie seemed a bit tense and acted out of sorts and more abruptly than usual. She was never really kind and rarely talked about my mother, her sister, but at least she never beat me or let me starve. And I’ve been receiving new clothes and jackets each year, together with a new pair of shoes, and it was enough so I wouldn’t feel any great necessity.
I arrived home after school and the first thing I did was to go after my auntie to look attentively at her, wishing to see if she somehow had grown a number next to her as well. But when I found her in the kitchen, there was nothing in there, no yellow sign or anything out of normal. She was doing soup for the night and I was a bit sad for not having my birthday acknowledged in any form, but it was her way of doing things and I was not expecting anything different, anyway.
She sensed my presence and gave me a strange look, evaluating my person from head to toe, like she was trying to find a difference in me I didn’t know was there. I felt very hot and flushed and didn’t know what was expected of me in that situation.
She made a sound with her tongue like I was the most enervating person in her life, and asked me with a gruff sneer, “Do you have something to tell me, girl?”
I gave an almost imperceptible gasp because it was almost like she knew I had something on my mind. It certainly was not possible for her to know what was inside my head. There is no such thing in this world. But her eyes seemed like burning flames looking at me and I could feel a scorching sense of anxiety growing inside me.
“No... auntie. It was... just a normal day.” I nervously swolled waiting for her to reveal my lie. The way she was looking at me was so strange... It was almost like... She was waiting for something to happen. She didn’t seem to like my words. She didn’t seem at all convinced. Her eyes told me she expected me to confess.
But I sealed my lips after my answer and tried to act like nothing was out of normal. In fact, nothing was wrong, really. It was just something of my imagination. The number means nothing because it was never there in the first place.
Auntie turned around and continued her cooking. I felt almost boneless with relief after so strong inspection but... Well, I really had nothing to tell.
We ate the soup with some warm bread and watched some television after. She didn’t comment on my new age or give me any presents. It was like any other day on this earth
But inside me, I felt this little thing, like a little thing no one could see. It was a little thought, almost like something I had created myself, that was not there yesterday. What should I do with this, I had no idea. But when I went to bed that day, I thought with great apprehension that nothing would really be the same in my life and I should prepare myself for whatever it was this thing I had received when I was sixteen.
I received the confirmation things would never be the same when I entered school, the next day. I saw another number. And another. And another. They were everywhere.
They were yellow and shiny little signs. The little numbers taunted me with their presence and made me sick with concern for my sanity. Each one of them showed something different and each boy had a different number hanging beside their ears.
There were boys in school I sometimes made silly dreams in my head about them, and the number near them varied between 1 and 3. One of them even had a decimal number on him: just 0.5.
Witnessing such a strange appearance made me feel as if something cold was being poured over my bones so that the ice seemed trapped inside me and my own spirit trembled with fear at such a whirlwind of feelings. I was standing in the middle of school looking at the boys and their numbers with pure dread coming from inside my heart.
I ran to the bathroom and used the toilet, feeling the bile rising in my throat as a burst of nausea left me weak and made me kneel in the cubicle I had entered.
Maybe it was a vision, something my eyes had created that meant nothing at all. I couldn’t believe that I had simply gone crazy... it couldn’t be... I was only 16. I should just ignore it and hope the numbers will go away someday. I was just having a bad day and it certainly wasn’t going to be like this forever.
My life went on, but the numbers never went away. They multiplied and appeared in the most alarming circumstances. Some boys had no numbers next to them, others had the same number continuously. Sometimes, someone who had never had a number would suddenly have one after a while. And this would sometimes happen after a brief interaction between me and that person. When I looked again, next to that boy appeared a bright yellow sigh. A new number, a new mystery.
When I turned eighteen, I saw for the first time the highest number I had ever seen. A new boy entered my school, bringing with him an excited murmur of girls who crowded around him every chance they got. I noticed him on his first day, but I didn’t dare look in his direction too much. I noticed that he was handsome and tall, but other than that impression, I preferred not to have any contact with him. Not that he would have noticed me anyway.
Walking into the cafeteria one day, near the end of the year, with all the excitement for graduation, I stopped in line to get a meal, and I didn’t realize that this boy was right in front of me. When he turned and smiled at me, I was surprised and didn’t smile back right away. But his eyes looked at me with a certain warmth and he introduced himself by saying his name and I answered mine when he asked. “Savannah. My name is Savannah.” He invited me to sit at the table with him but, at that moment, I was startled by the number that appeared next to his face. Number eighteen. The biggest number I had seen so far.
I didn’t know what to do other than stare at that number as if it were a terrifying apparition right in front of me. Up until then, the largest number I had seen was 5, and strangely enough, it appeared next to a younger substitute teacher who had been in our school for some time. His eyes followed me more closely when I was in his class, but other than that, I had never met anyone with a number higher than 5, and so I felt extremely intrigued by this boy having a bright 2-digit number shining in my direction.
I made an excuse not to sit with him and for the rest of the days until graduation, I looked in his direction a few times and that number was still there, without changing its shape, but hiding its meaning from me.
It was strangely scary to have this secret that I couldn’t tell anyone, for fear of the strangeness it would certainly bring and the judgment I would certainly face. I was afraid that this madness would become something worse and that I would start seeing more sinister things that I didn’t even want to think about. The numbers were already a big enough annoyance in themselves. They took away from me the desire to look into the eyes of the boys I knew. I was afraid of what I might see or what it might mean. Added to the fact that I didn’t leave the house much, I felt out of place in most situations and, even though I had some friends among the students in my class, I felt different in a way that prevented me from developing any kind of true bond with anyone.
I don’t know what could have happened between me and the new boy with the number 18 next to him. He asked me to go to the prom with him but I refused, not having the courage to look him directly in the eyes when I did. After that, I didn’t have much opportunity to worry about why I refused, because my aunt arranged for me to start working at a small grocery store that one of her friends owned, so my life became limited to working, going home, and taking care of the house chores.
At twenty-one I met the next highest number I had ever seen. Twenty-two. It was standing next to a man dressed in a well-cut suit, his hair finally combed to the side, and his bright coffee-colored eyes seemed warm and appreciative when they looked at me. I was in the cashier that day and he came directly at me when he entered the little grocery where I worked.
Up until that point, I had barely noticed any other numbers because they were all small for the most part and didn’t seem strange anymore. But this particular man introduced himself with a smile, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. He asked my name and invited me to have a coffee with him.
I didn’t accept it, but he left a card and a smile saying goodbye. I felt something different with that number. I was determined to ignore its existence because it didn’t affect me or make a difference in my life. But why did it exist and what did it mean? Why wasn’t anyone seeing it? My life had changed so much since they appeared. It was like I had to wait for a certain number, a unique number to appear so I could make a decision. I held the man’s card with the number 22 next to his face, imagining what it would be like if I dared to call him. I knew it was impossible for me to do so. But I could dream and I could pretend I was bold enough to call.
When I returned home that day, I had the card safely tucked away in my purse, and it seemed uncomfortable to have been placed in a dark place where I couldn’t see it. I was curious as to why that unusual number had caught my attention. I didn’t even know what it meant. But still, something strange was happening, and I couldn’t explain why I felt so bothered by its appearance.
I started preparing dinner as I normally did, but something on my face probably caught my aunt’s attention, because she asked me bluntly, “What number did you see today?”
I froze, feeling terribly exposed and afraid and, for a few seconds, I didn’t turn to look at her because I felt trapped as if a chain was holding me in place. I turned my head and saw that she was looking at me directly without blinking, and the fear I felt evaporated by the calmness that was on her face.
She didn’t seem worried or judgmental. She was just asking something that would sound normal to anyone listening. But for me, the meaning was something completely terrifying.How could she know?
“Do you know about the numbers?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I asked, suddenly feeling betrayed. I had been living with this strange apparition for over 5 years and had never dared to speak up. But she had known about the situation all along. “I thought I was crazy. Why didn’t you tell me? What are these numbers?!”
“What number did you see today? You seem to have found it interesting enough to keep quiet and to be thoughtful.”
“I saw the number twenty-two on a man who came into the market today. He was young and... he gave me a card, he wanted to meet me later.”
“Hmm... It’s not that bad.”
“What’s not that bad? What are you talking about!?” I had never questioned my aunt much about anything, but at that moment I felt like I could strangle her for playing with my feelings like that.
“Your mother saw the number five when she met your father for the first time.” She said.
That information seemed so shocking that my heart skipped a beat when I heard her words. My mother? She rarely spoke about my mother. I knew that she had died years ago along with my father in a car accident, but I never knew much about her and the little information I received always seemed like a very precious gift.
“I told her to let it go. Five is too little. But she wouldn’t listen to me and married your father anyway. Five years was all she had with him when the tragedy happened.”
What?
What did she mean by that? She had just five years with my father?
“I don’t understand...” I felt empty and terrified by what she was saying.
“It’s an affliction that seems to follow the women in our family. Not all of us suffer from it... it seems like some of us are special. But we see numbers... the number of years we would have with that person if we decided to choose them, that’s it. I saw twenty-five with your uncle, God rest his soul. And that was the highest number I had ever seen in my entire life, so I chose him for that. Your grandmother, my mother, saw the number thirty-five. She lived a good life. That’s how it is with some of us. We see the end of everything before it happens. You have the number and you know how long it can last. I know some women who have decided never to choose anyone, for fear of what might happen. It doesn’t mean that the man will die, just that he won’t be there after that number.”
I felt like I might vomit when I heard that information. It couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be real. Things like that didn’t happen to ordinary people. I’d never done anything to provoke something like that. Numbers couldn’t decide anything as important as the time we’d have with someone. My mother... Did she know from the beginning?
“Twenty-two seems like a good number. It’s hard to find a big number, you know? Few will offer you more than that. The biggest one I’ve ever seen was your grandmother’s. I have a notebook for you, with some notes made by women who have suffered from this situation. I’m not saying you should call that man who gave you the card, but now you know what the numbers should mean.”
