Sweaty Palms

‘Thank you for taking the survey. Take a seat and someone will be with you soon’

The words shine brightly on the screen before her. Cara steps away from the computer, and leaves the small booth. Back in the lobby, she finds a seat.

Her leg starts bouncing up and down as she sits. She wipes her hands on her jeans. Why are my palms so sweaty? There are other people in the lobby, waiting as well. Most of them are her age, though there is an older woman. They don’t look nervous.

Someone else’s name is called. Cara watches a woman get up and follow someone into the back. That woman is prettier than me. Why aren’t I pretty like her?

There are two girls sitting down the row from her. They speak excitably to each other.

“I can’t wait. I’ve waited so long.”

“You’re going to have so many choices.”

Cara blocks them out. I wish I had a friend to come with me.

“Cara?”

Cara’s whole body jerks when she hears her name. She jumps to her feet. “Yes! Right here.” The woman who called her name has short black hair and a name tag that says ‘Nina’.

Nina motions for her to follow. They go through a door, out of the lobby, down a hallway, and into a small office.

Nina takes a seat behind a desk. Cara takes a seat across from her.

There is a folder on the desk between them. Cara’s name is on the label. It’s a very thin folder.

“Okay, Cara, I’m sure this has been explained a dozen times, but the survey uses your answers to give you your best possible matches."

“How accurate is it?”

“It’s a very refined algorithm.”

“Okay,” Cara’s eyes remain glued to the folder.

“So,” Nina taps the folder with her finger. “You survey answers were… unique.”

Cara’s heart sinks. Oh god, I don’t have any matches. Just like mom said would happen.

“It turned up three matches.”

Cara breathes a sigh of relief.

Nina pushes the folder towards her. “We have their profiles printed out here, but you can also view them on your online portal as well as any new matches that might appear as more people take the survey.”

Cara picks up the folder. It’s so light.

“We offer counselors that can help you make a decision if you find yourself struggling with… options." Nina looks at the folder. The thin folder.

Cara nods. Clutching the folder, she leaves the building in a haze.

Her mother is waiting for her when she returns.

“Well,” her mother asks.

“Three matches.”

Her mother scoffs. “I had over seventy-five. But I supposed it’s better than none. You know what happens when you get zero matches?”

“Yes, you’ve told me ab-“

“You never get married, and you die alone.”

Cara sets the folder on the kitchen table. Her mother quickly opens it and looks at the three pieces of paper before her. She sighs loudly. “You should have gone to college, Cara. Then you’d have real options.”

“What’s wrong with those?”

Her mother scoffs, and hands the papers over. “They’re laborers. You want to hold hands with someone with callouses on their palms?”

“Well, I-“

“You know what? My friend August can help us. He knows someone who helped create the survey.”

“Why does that-“

“He can tell you exactly what answers to give in order to get matched with someone good.”

“Isn’t that… cheating?”

“This is your future, Cara. You want to be matched with someone wealthy. Someone smart.”

“What about someone that I actually like? Someone I could love?”

Her mother stands up, “Wake up, Cara. This isn’t about love. This is about science. This is about the algorithm. I’m going to give August a call. You’ll go back tomorrow and demand to take the test again, okay?

“Okay…” Cara slinks off to her room, still holding the three pieces of paper. She collapses on her bed.

Some time later her mother comes into her room. She hands Cara a new piece of paper. “These are the answers you need to give on the survey tomorrow. Understand?”

Cara nods. After her mother leaves, Cara looks down at the three profiles she matched with. Nathan, a construction worker, James, a mechanic, and Austin, a warehouse worker.

I wonder why I matched with them? What about them makes me their perfect match? They must have low standards.

Cara tosses all the papers aside. It looked like the nightmare would only continue tomorrow.

Sure enough, she was awoken by her mother shaking her awake. “You have to get down to the agency and retake the test. Come on, Cara! No sleeping in.”

Stumbling out of bed, Cara quickly gathers all the papers and races for the bus stop. Sitting on the bus, her leg begins to bounce. Her palms sweat. She shuffles through the papers until she finds the one with the answers on it.

She glances through it.

Drink of choice: Whiskey

Preferred vacation location: Dubai

Would you rather live in the city or the suburbs: Suburbs

Cara sighs. All these answers are lies.

She finds herself right where she was the day before. In the same lobby with the same chairs. Why are my palms always so sweaty? She approaches the front desk.

“Uh, hi, I would like to… uh, retake the test.”

“Retake? Do you believe there was something wrong with your original survey?”

“Uhh, well, maybe some of my answers weren't as accurate as they-“

“Answering the questions honestly is how you get the best results.”

“Yes, I know, it’s just that-“

“There is a fee to retake the survey.”

“I understand.”

The door next to her opens, causing Cara to jump.

A man and a woman, holding hands, emerge. They are smiling, looking into each other’s eyes. Nina exits the door behind them.

“Shall I close your accounts?”

The man speaks up, “Yes. We’re heading straight to the courthouse to get married.”

“Love at first sight… Thank you, Nina,” says the woman holding his hand.

Nina waves them goodbye. She puts a hand over her heart. “That’s why I do it…” Her eyes land on Cara. “Oh, are you here about your matches? Do you want to set up a meeting with one of them?”

Cara hesitates, she looks back at the happy couple leaving through the front doors. “Um, yes, I’ll meet with him.” She finds herself handing over one of the profiles at random. Nine takes it, and nods. “I’ll reach out and see if he wants to meet up as well. Keep an eye on your email.”

Cara nods. Nina goes back through the door.

The woman at the front desk sighs. “So, are you not retaking the test?”

“Uh, no.”

She tosses the answers in the trash on her way out.

Her mother is waiting for her again.

“Well?”

“I’m meeting with a man.”

Her mother’s face lights up. “Oh, amazing! Is he an engineer? A doctor? A lawyer?”

“Um, well, actually-“

“I told you those answers would work, didn’t I?”

“I didn’t use them.”

Her mother freezes, “Excuse me?”

“I’m meeting with one of the men I matched with originally.”

“Cara, what is wrong with-“

“No! If you want to marry someone rich, then fine. But I want to marry someone I will actually love. I’m not going to change my answers. The algorithm is built to find love. And that’s what I want!” Cara storms into her room and closes the door.

An email pops up on her computer a few hours later. It reads ‘Come to the agency at 1pm tomorrow to meet your match. -Nina’

And once again Cara finds herself in the same lobby with the same bouncing leg and sweaty palms.

“Cara?” Nina calls her name and once again leads her from the lobby and into a small office. “James will be here shortly.”

James. Which one was he again? The warehouse worker? No, the mechanic.

Cara tries to remember anything from his profile. I should have looked before I left. I don’t know anything about him. He’s going to think I’m a complete idiot.

Panic begins to rise. She wipes her hands on her jeans, but they don’t seem to dry. She gets to her feet. I can’t do this. Mom was right.

Just as she heads for the door, it opens. Nina greets her with a smile. There is a man next to her.

“Cara, this is James. James, this is Cara,” Nina says, “I’ll leave you guys to it.” With that she closes the door leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Cara looks at him. He has short scruffy hair, stubble, and brown eyes. He wears jeans and a flannel over a white shirt.

My mom would hate him.

His hands are in his pockets.

“You want to hold hands with someone with callouses on their palms?” Her mom’s voice reminds her.

Her own palms continue to sweat. Her heart beats rapidly, her flight response activated.

“Hi,” James says.

“Hi,” she says back.

“Nothing worse than meeting a stranger, huh?” He asks, a small smile on his face.

“My nightmare.”

He laughs. “I’ve always preferred cars, really.”

“They don’t make small talk,” Cara says.

He laughs again. He’s got a happy laugh. His whole face lights up. His eyes crinkle.

Cara wipes her palms. “I prefer books.”

“They don’t judge you.”

Cara finds herself smiling, “No, they don’t.”

James motions to the couch. “Want to sit?”

“Sure.”

She takes a seat next to him. Almost immediately, her leg starts bouncing.

“I finished The Great Gatsby recently.”

Cara perks up, “Oh, that’s a great classic. A story a love and loss.”

“You have any recommendations?”

“Anna Karenina by Tolstoy is one of my favorites.”

“I’ll have to stop by the library.”

“I have a copy at home that you could borrow.”

James smiles. His eyes seem to be shining. He looks down, eyes landing on her bouncing leg.

Cara’s heart beats frantically. He probably thinks I’m insane.

 “Do you think,” James pauses for a moment, “that the algorithm is based on compatibly or love?”

Cara meets his eyes. “Love. I hope.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment.

He reaches out, slowly. His hand inches towards hers.

Oh god, my hands are so sweaty. He’s going to think I’m gross.

He gently interlaces their fingers. She can feel the callouses on his palm and on his fingers against her own soft skin. Her own sweaty palm is pressed against his. She waits for him to comment on it. To tell her it's gross. To tell her she's disgusting. That he never wants to hold her hand again.

He doesn't say anything. Instead, he moves closer. "I hope it's love too."

“You want to hold hands with someone with callouses on their palms?”

Yes. I do.