“Okay, great.”
“Fantastic.”
Samantha turned to walk back inside as she called out, “Just comein, stupid.”
Ashley reflected on the short trip to California. Monday morning, she would fly back to New York, leaving behind half of her family and a fond memory of Megan. It was a weekend she hadn’t expected. The time spent with her sister made her realise just how important family was. The years of not conversing and holding a grudge that may not have been warranted felt petty now. Ashley would take away one life lesson which would prove to be vital—forgiveness. What happened with her parents was now a distant memory, they were better apart, happier it seemed, or at least they would be.
***
On the plane ride home the inspiration for her next article had come without pressure, the need to search vigorously for inspiration had not been present. Sometimes life just handed you the perfect story—that, she was grateful for. Freelancing was tough! Ashley found it to be an unpredictable task. She had been fortunate enough to strike up a relationship with one of the editors, who, after the first article, was more than willing to read any future pitches she had. Three of the further six she had submitted over the past year had been accepted and published, a rate she was proud of. Ashley had been surprised to find out that 75% of commissioned stories were from first-timeNew York Timeswriters—that gave her the confidence boost she needed to continueher journey.
The follow-up to her soulmate article had been on the cards since day one. The inspiration to do it justice and to really understand the readers’ wants had been lacking though.How do you get someone to care?That was the ultimate question. The readers’ investment is paramount to any successfully written piece. Ashley had been trying to figure out how toapproach it.
We live in a fast-paced chaotic world, filled with many different types of people whose paths we cross on a daily basis, but not just anyone can mould perfectly to you. The real-life story element of the first article was what caught the editor’s attention and captured the hearts of the reader, so Ashley searched for another story that would provoke the same emotions. What she found difficult was the ability to know if two people were destined to be together. After all, there is no soulmate detector. You can’t walk around hoping the device beeps when it sees someone who meets your compatibility.If only life was that easy, Ashley thought.
Ashley removed her phone from her pocket and typed the first few lines, hoping it would lead her on to something momentous:
I am here again to ask you the question: do you believe in soulmates? We, as humans, are biologically designed to fall in love, but that doesn’t mean we get it right the first time. We find ourselves in numerous ‘temporary’ relationships. These can last a lengthy period of time, but eventually, we realise the incompatibility and close out that chapter of our lives. If soulmates are real, then there is one question we have to ask whenever we find a new love interest: Is this the one person I was obligated by destiny to spend the rest of my life with?
Then you might ask: how would I even know such a thing? Is there a checklist? Some ancient tick box exercise that has been tested and proven to be unequivocally accurate—that would help, right? If you know of one, pleaselet me know.
I have been searching for another couple with an undeniable love like Nancy and Christopher’s that would eradicate any doubt in my mind about soulmates and the destined paths laid out before us. There was one couple; they lived in Texas, fell in love instantly, had children, and then got divorced. Another couple; high-school sweethearts who seemed to have the perfect love story—until they got divorced. Then there was a young couple who defied all odds—including two tours in Iraq and a fatal car crash—to find out that the wife was terminally ill. She left behind three children and a grieving widower. How is that fair? It’s heartbreaking, but it got me to thinking: can we have more than one soulmate in a single lifetime?
The idea that her life was always destined to end that way seems unjust, but if we believe in fate and destiny, which in turn leads us to soulmates, then we believe that our lives are mapped out before us and every decision and choice we make is somehow predetermined. Ten years later, the widower re-married. He found someone else compatible with his lifestyle and he fell in love…again. Some might call that luck. He was lucky enough to have two people who he would class as ‘the love of his life’, but if you asked him, luck would not be his word of choice, far from it. You see, luck would have prevented his first wife from becoming ill.
The moral of the story is this, no one person can prove categorically that soulmates are real. I can provide stories that make you believe, but equally, I can provide stories that contradict that same statement. The truth is, we all like to think indisputably that ‘everything happens for a reason’. We get divorced so that we can marry the right person the next time. We get our hearts broken so that the next person can show us how we deserve to be treated. We slow dance with the person we know we can’t have, hoping one day the connection and timing will prevail…
I cannot convince you to believe in true love, soulmates, destined companions—whatever you want to call it. Only you know what it feels like. Only the ‘lucky’ will know what it’s like to experience such a euphoria that words can no longer describe your feelings.
Ashley typed each word without pre-determination, simply allowing the words to flow through her, unsure to a degree where the words would take her. She often found that was when she produced her best writing.
14
May 2016
Megan
A solitary bead of sweat dripped from her forehead to the dry concrete below. The high humidity sent her body into cool-down mode. Megan received the inbounds at half court; one-on-one with her father was the pre-dinner ritual whenever she stayed home. Michael’s extra foot in height aided him tremendously when it came to defence, which meant Megan had to be quicker on her feet to create enough space to pull up uncontested from behind the arc, or blow right by him for the easy lay-up—the first was often her weapon of choice. It was the first one to eleven baskets and the game was currently tied at 10–10.
The words of her first coach rang true in her ears,‘You only need three dribbles to make a move. Your first dribble should always be towards the basket, your second loses your defender, and your third is only necessary if they counteract and recover from the second dribble.’Megan knew the better-conditioned player always won one-on-one—that was her strength. Michael was still athletic for his age, but he wasn’t game-ready. Megan was.
The first five shots had been heavily contested on both sides, but then he eased up slightly, tiring as they got to the final shot. They had stood in the same position hundreds of times in the past, but Megan could only count on one hand the number of times she’d won. Her father never went easy on her, often reciting the same lines,‘nobody else will give you a free pass to the hoop’or‘do you think the women in the WNBA will take it easy on you?’
Megan gathered the ball and dribbled to the right wing—that was her favourite spot. One sharp Iverson-style crossover dribble sent her father left, but he recovered fast.
“Where you going now? Huh? You think you can beat me with that weak cross-over?” The goading continued as it had all game.
Megan performed a simple jab step, then planted her inside leg to establish her pivot foot, spinning rapidly back in the opposite direction. The change of pace took her past Michael and towards the open rim for the unopposed lay-upand the win.
Megan hunched over, exhausted andvictorious.
“Great game, Meg. That move you just did there,” Michael pointed towards the very spot, “that was a perfectly executed move. Any player in the WNBA would be proud of that.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“You continue to pull out moves like that next season and the callwill come.”
“I hope so.”
