One
One
Daily affirmation: I trust the universe to keep my life effortlessly on track.
According to the many-worlds theory—and possibly an old Gwyneth Paltrow movie—we split our universe with each decision we make. That means I’ve made a thousand right choices to get to this point, each littering time and space with sadder cast-off versions of me, say with dyed red hair instead of my natural dark brown or living in Tokyo instead of Toronto. Realistically, not even thousands but billions or trillions or whatever illions is beyond that.
I doubt any of those Dee Kwans are as happy as me. Thanks to meticulous vision boarding, wholehearted manifesting, and enough positive thinking to fill the Milky Way with stars, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, doing exactly what I’m meant to do.
Waking before my alarm, I stretch in bed, warm and content under the thick duvet. The weak December sun streaming through the window lights the soft yellow walls with a golden glow that I admire before grabbing my phone to open my new meditation app. Six deep breaths and two nasal panting cycles later, I get antsy and turn it off. I haven’t found the app that best suits me, but honestly, I don’t need it. According to Mom, I take after her—happy by nature.
I make my way to the kitchen, where I tie back the retro dotted swiss curtains I installed in place of the old vinyl blinds with their permanently tangled cords, and put in some toast, idly counting the blooming flowers of the de Gournay–style wallpaper above the backsplash until it pops. I’m not lonely but it would be nice to share breakfast with someone. I can see him now, wearing a pair of flannel pajama bottoms as he stands at the white-and-gold marble counter, smiling fondly at me over his shoulder.
“Let me find someone,” I say to the old Niagara Falls–themed thermometer I’d left in the window. “A man is not a necessity, but it would be a bonus. Preferably one who can cook. I’ll do the dishes.”
There, I’ve sent my aspiration out and trust that the universe, which I assume has nothing urgent that it needs to deal with, will manifest this man for me. I can sit back and wait for him to appear when the time is right.
I dig my toes into the Wedgwood-blue rug that covers the warm wood of the parquet floor and glance at the paper I’d stuck on my bulletin board near the fridge last January. Although “get man” hadn’t made the list, it was chock-full of life goals. I read them over as I layer Havarti on my breakfast sandwich.
No negative vibes!
I’d written this with little stars to emphasize the positive vibe-ness.
Meditate daily regularly.
Exercise daily regularly.
Practice weekly regular self-care for wellness.
Be the best Charioteer I can be at work.
Remain the Questie queen.
My eyes linger on the last point. Oh, Questie. I’d discovered the online game last year when I needed a break from painting walls and ripping up carpet, and now spend a few blissful hours each week solving puzzles that lead to clues hidden around the city. Which reminds me, it’s time for my daily Questie leaderboard check to confirm that SunnyDay remains numero uno and in the top dog slot.
I grab my phone with one hand and open the app as I bite into my sandwich, tomato spilling onto the thrifted Royal Albert forget-me-not patterned plate. I’ve been first for the last six months, my position unassailable, although under frequent and unwelcome attack by Teddy9. A faint sense of satisfaction suffuses me as I see that, yes, I am in the lead, a feeling deepened by noting that Teddy9 has dropped to fourth. I click over to the Questie chat and message him privately. We’ve been sharing good-natured taunts for the last couple months, and this seems like an excellent opportunity to rub in my continued dominance.
Me: May the Fourth be with you. Get it? Because you’re in fourth place?
Teddy9: It’s December and that joke is so bad I’m not going to dignify it with an answer.
Me: Yet here we are.
Teddy9: It doesn’t matter. I have a plan.
Me: Is your devious plan to solve clues faster and with some accuracy, unlike last week’s puzzle?
Teddy9: I stand by the fact that clue six was impossible for a normal person.
Me: Sounds like loser talk.
Teddy9: Winning is a state of mind, SunnyDay.
Me: You know, I’m magnanimous in victory. My name’s Dee. You can use it.
Teddy9: I’m Teddy.
Me: I suspected.
Teddy: My name could have been 9, you know.
He logs off and I check if any of my friends have contacted me. I don’t have many, and lately I’ve barely seen the ones I do. I’m usually the one to suggest meeting but I’ve been too busy. I’ll reach out today.
I follow my usual getting-ready routine, which means after sunscreen comes my daily affirmation. Over the years, I’ve chanted everything from “You’re good enough” to “The bangs will grow out.” If I don’t have anything specific, I default to “I delete negativity to live my best life.” The important part is that I put my mind on a path to attract good energy and manifest my yes. My older sister, Jade, thinks this is all bull but she can go screw. Thanks to my mindset, life has turned out as I want, and there’s no point messing with a good thing.
Since I’ve been working late all week, I’m going in a bit past my usual time, which has allowed me this unusually leisurely weekday morning. I decide to take the long route through the park near my house. It’s quiet this time of day, and a sheet of neon orange with little cuts along the bottom flutters on a lamppost, like someone’s advertising for their lost cat. Curious, I move closer.
TAKE WHAT YOU NEED, it says. Instead of phone numbers, the tabs read:
Break from routine
Virtual hug
Moment to yourself
Kindness
Two are missing, and I wonder what other passersby were missing from their lives. Then I shrug and turn away, leaving the tabs for someone else. I have everything I need.
Thirty minutes later, I’m walking up the stairs to Chariot Consulting. The office takes up the third floor of a small heritage building on Spadina Avenue, in easy walking distance of Queen Street’s shopping and bars and Chinatown’s food glories. When I walk in, it feels like home, which I suppose is natural given the amount of time I spend here.
After I wave to Nadia, the receptionist, I head to my office and stop with a little heart flutter of appreciation that hasn’t dissipated since my recent promotion. The card on the door reads DAIYU KWAN because I’m always Daiyu at work. Dee, with its blond-ponytail surfer vibe, is for my personal life.
Then comes the best part of the name plate: CONSULTANT. After doing Chariot’s communications for five years, they made me a full-fledged diversity consultant two months ago. It took an entire section of my vision board and endless night classes, but I’m finally in a position to make a difference by helping organizations become places where everyone can thrive. I want a world where people like my loathsome—and estranged—aunt Rebecca don’t have the power to stop anyone from achieving their dreams.
I blow the card a kiss as I go in and flip on the light. More cynical people might find it pathetic, and I’m sorry for them, but Chariot gives my life meaning. It’s worth every hour I spend at night and on weekends completing extra projects to prove my value. I put down my bag and straighten the copy of my CEO’s book, Diverse Paths, One Goal , which sits on the shelf behind my desk. I’d ghostwritten it last year, and seeing my name in the alphabetical list of acknowledgments at the back continues to thrill me.
I haven’t had time to decorate the space with my favorite motivational posters and soft-light lamps, but I can fix that when I come in on the weekend. The learning curve has been harder than I expected, especially since Chariot hasn’t hired for my previous role so I’m currently doing both jobs. They’ve assured me it won’t be much longer.
I look around with a sigh of total contentment and take a of sip of the green tea I brought from home. Everything— everything —is going according to plan.
Perfect.