At First Sight

A girl walks through a party with the power to see how others die.

I walk through the party on my friend’s patio. Hanging lights illuminate the wooden deck as people drink, talk, and crack jokes.

I let my hair loose over my bare shoulders and look for someone suitable to pair with. Not that I’m unfriendly or unattractive. I’m picky.

You see, I’ve had a gift as far back as my memory can reach. I look into people’s eyes and see death. Their death. I can see if they go out young or old. I can tell if they beg and scream on their way. I can tell them if they s**t themselves as their life leaves their pathetic body. But I don’t tell them, lest they think I’m crazy. I learn to live with it in silence.

I see many new faces tonight. Mutual friends, acquaintances. New faces, new eyes, and new deaths. I wonder if I’ll find anyone interesting.

I see one man who dies of liver failure. He’s probably a drunk. I move to another.

Auto-erotic asphyxiation. This one’s a chronic masturbator. Next.

It surprises me how many of them die before they’re old. Most of them think they’ll live to see sixty, I’m sure.

My friend Gloria’s the one who hosts these get-togethers. She’s a party animal, and her death translates well. She’s cold and alone in a dark cave after a heavy night of drinking. Don’t ask me how she got there, I can only see the minutes leading up to it. She’s lost with only her sobs to company her as she expels those precious few drops of liquid from her dehydrated body.

I would be sad for her if I wasn’t so used to seeing it in her eyes. I raise a cup and compliment her choice of music.

Gloria introduces me to Sean, a pretty good looking specimen. I hold off looking at his eyes for a moment; I like to tease myself before giving in to the curiosity. He dies of lethal injection. An interesting one for sure, prophetic even. My state either brings back the death penalty or he goes to another that has. Either way, he pleads innocence till the end. I look away before I find out if it’s botched or not. I do like leaving some things to the imagination. Anyway, I don’t want to stick around to see if I’m his victim.

Sure, death can get depressing, but I’m numb to it. I learn to enjoy it, even.

I don’t see anyone I fancy. Everyone’s boring, that or crude.

Then, one man steps onto the deck. He’s well dressed, fit, and sophisticated, the marrying type no doubt. I smell his cologne from 10 feet away. Do I dare look into his eyes? Of course I do, it’s inevitable. When he looks at me, I see him on a hospital bed, surrounded by family. One of the most pleasant deaths I’ve seen, and I see too many. Next to him is an old woman gripping his hand as he drifts peacefully to sleep. The woman is not me.

I run into the bathroom. I could cry but I don’t. I try not to look at myself in the mirror, but my eyeballs feel pierced with fish hooks being reeled in. I stare at myself and my unlovable face. My eyes are blank. All the deaths I see and I’m blind to my own. My life is blank.

I want to rid myself of this curse. Tear out my eyeballs, blend them into jelly, and burn them to ash!

I settle myself down and take a few deep breaths.

I rejoin the party without a thought from before.

I see everyone, men and women. I know how they’re all going to die, and I’m okay with that.

Then I notice someone new leaning in the corner away from everyone else, beer in hand. He stares at some of the kissing couples like he imagines a life of companionship. I know the look too well.

I can’t see his death though. He wears glasses, my weakness.

I approach him long and slow so he sees me coming. He runs his fingers through his hair and straightens his back.

I sip my drink and ask him if he’s here alone. He tells me a friend brought him then left him there for some girl.

I ask if he could remove his glasses so I could get a better look. He takes them off without thinking.

I see him lie on a bed in a dark room. He’s wearing the same clothes he wears now. He’s relaxed, drifting to sleep. Two hands grab him by the neck. Their grip sends spasms through his body. He struggles, taking quick bursts for air, but the thumbs of the hands dig straight into his Adam’s apple. A single pop and he’s gone into the abyss. I get a good look at the hands that take him. They’re mine.

I smile as I look him up and down. I kiss him then and there. His loneliness fades in my arms. I know he is the man I take home tonight.