The Red String of Fate

A self-described “K-drama-holic,” she once saw a show that introduced her to the Korean belief of the red strings of fate.According to that belief, people destined to be in each other’s lives are connected by a cosmic invisible red string.The red string can be stretched or tangled, but never broken. The people are meant to always be together somehow, regardless of time, space, or circumstance. The connection may be romantic or not. The connection is neither good nor bad; it just is.

About 40 years ago, she had a short-lived romantic relationship that was way too emotionally hot to handle. The origin of their story wasn’t unique. Some may even say it was cliché. But it was true.

He’s part of an internationally famous family, the Smith-Joneses, and his closest and dearest called him SJ, as they tend to do in such circles. Her background was the complete opposite – poor and immigrant, known by her full first and last name.

Their worlds collided when she worked her way into one of the country’s elite universities. The collision wasn’t marred by any animosity, misunderstandings, or any friction at all that many rom-coms rely upon to create the “push-pull” trope. Instead, it was a collision that produced sparks of instant attraction and desire.All pull, no push. That came later.

What followed was a whirlwind affair, set against the backdrop of one of the most beautiful places on earth, which probably added to fairytale-like vibe of their relationship. But, like all sparks, it wasn’t sustainable because it always felt like they were on the edge of combusting at any given moment. A combustion that would inevitably lead to the destructive force of a conflagration. Neither was willing to risk that. And both were too young to imagine a beautiful and resilient phoenix that could rise in the aftermath.

So, they broke up.

But not really.

Soon after, she moved 3,000 miles away. The move was occasioned by a career opportunity.Still, if truth be told, she also saw it as an opportunity to start anew in the romance department; an opportunity to push him out of her mind, her heart, her life. But, despite the distance and her attempts at dating others, their mutual attraction – that irresistible pull toward each other – was too strong to keep them permanently apart. They kept seeing each other whenever possible throughout the ensuing years.

A funny story about that move.

Several months after she moved (which he knew nothing about), SJ had a layover at a place that neither she nor he had ever gone to before. When he boarded his connecting plane for the last leg of his trip, he sat next to someone who somehow felt familiar to him. After several minutes racking his brain, he still couldn’t place him so he let it be.

The other guy (Ted as it turned out) kept sneaking peeks at SJ, as though he too was trying to figure out how they knew each other.

Well, of course, SJ and Ted talked and found out they’d never met or even seen each other before. Weirdly, she knew Ted! They had gone to graduate school together. They then realized that she was their random one-in-a-billion connection while they were in some random airplane in some random place none of them had ever been to before.

Ted then proceeded to tell SJ things about her that he’d heard though the grapevine. Nothing that he’d heard directly from her. Things like, she’d made a rash move away because she was devastated after her break-up with some guy with the last name Smith-Jones (not surprisingly, Ted didn’t make the connection between “SJ” and “Smith-Jones”), that she was intimidated by the Smith-Jones family, that the guy dumped her because she was a poor nobody while his family was rich and famous, and on and on.Each bit becoming more and more embellished. He had absolutely no idea he was talking to the Smith-Jones guy himself! Of course, SJ never told Ted his real first or last name.He just kept pumping Ted for gossip about her move, her failed relationship, her insecurities. Things she didn’t want SJ to hear about – whether 100% true or stretched to fit the gossip narrative.

A few months later, SJ told this story to a mutual friend of theirs. Predictably, the story reached her almost immediately. She died a million deaths, all from embarrassment.

While still struggling to get over the mortification, she called Ted. Even before she was able to tell him why she was calling, he said, “Funny you should call.I was recently on a plane with someone…hmmm…what was his name? I think it was a couple of initials...” She then lowered the boom without any mercy: “His name was SJ, as in Smith-Jones.” Several seconds of complete and awkward silence was followed by a mournful, “Oh … I am so sorry.”

Mortification, like misery, enjoys company.

She can laugh about it now because it’s a fun story to tell. After all, what were the chances? It was definitely an “of all the gin joints” kind of a thing.

Or was it?

Anyway, that incident re-connected SJ with her, which unsurprisingly led to them occasionally seeing each other throughout the decades. The meet-ups were mostly romantic, sometimes not, but always emotionally electric.This regardless of where they were living and even after long periods – years even – of no contact as they lived our lives happily and independently with others.

Now in their 60s, they’ve settled into the comfort of a warm friendship, exchanging stories and worries about their kids, careers, life in general . . . in a way that wasn’t possible in their prior highly-charged relationship, when vulnerability wasn’t really an option.

Both he and she dated many people before they married their respective spouses. She once asked him if he kept contact with his other exes. He just said no, without any negative emotions or rancor. Same with her. They both just have a cool detachment with their other prior relationships, without any lingering heated anger or hurt feelings but also without any further contact. All push, no pull.

Recently, she was cleaning out an old box of stuff that she hadn’t looked at probably since she first packed it 40 years ago. The unopened box went with her on every geographic and romantic move she’d made. As she reached in to empty the box, she saw something at the bottom that SJ had given her when they were together as a couple. During one of his trips to visit his parents who lived in New York at the time, he brought her back a silly souvenir. One of those bronze-colored Statue of Liberty thermometers. As she looked at it with fond memories, she couldn’t help but smile. The liquid inside that tells you if it’s hot, warm, or cool? It looks like a red string.