Ghosts. I knew what that was like. I smoothed my too-tight skirt. Its zipper bit into my spine.Focus, Adler, I gritted to myself. “That must have been hard,” I murmured.
“We did everything we could to deny it,” Ayn said.
“Everything,” Ann repeated.
“And then Ann was everywhere. Summer camp drop-off line. Grocery store.”
“Home Depot, hair salon, Whole Foods Amazon return line—”
“We were just constantly thrown in each other’s paths over and over,” Ayn said. “The more we tried to resist what Soulmail was telling us...”
“...The more the universe kept forcing us together,” Ann finished. “Invisible strings. So that’s what we do on our podcast now: interview people resisting their Soulmail matches. Every single time, these themes present. Forced proximity, or people unable to sleep because their soulmate is all they can think about...”
“Fate,” Ayn said softly. “Simply put, we’re learning every day, through every story, that Soulmails are undeniably, irrevocably right. It was an extremely hard lesson, but we were never unfaithful in our marriages.”
The studio lights were bright, but my vision dimmed.Warmth crept over my chest. Crawled the tines of my neck. I made a show of glancing at the list of approved questions, unable to read them. “How are your families adjusting to this new normal?”
Backstage, the physical hum of the crew stilled. My question wasn’t pointedly nasty, but it was both unapproved and unsaid that their families were probably insomestate of upheaval. Immediately, regret sat on my lap. These were nice people, no doubt stuck in a difficult quandary. Their kids and ex-husbands were just trying to live their lives. I was being unfair because their truth was one I wanted to be my lie, and there was no one I could tell my feelings to. My college group threads were big enough that I didn’t trust what I wrote wouldn’t make it public. Natalie had flown to her mom’s from Bali. Caleb, well. Ghost. My parents had ghosts of their own to deal with.
I wished my sister was alive.
I held up both of my palms, trying to gesture a state of calm support. “We’re rooting for you,” I added hastily.
Ayn’s mouth curved. “We’re a regular Brady Bunch,” she said smoothly. “Adjusting, for sure, but you don’t want to force a family to live in a situation where a marriage is no longer the right choice.”
Josef pressed his leg against mine in rebuke. “Of course,” he said.
“Well, we’re encouraging everyone to check outSoccer Mom Season,” I said. “I know it’s one of my favorites right now.”
Ayn and Ann relaxed. I hoped I’d recovered it enough. On set, the teleprompter flashed, and as the camera zoomed in to frame Josef and me, I turned toward it, expectant.
But when I tried to recite my preloaded lines, my voice locked in my throat. Josef glanced at me and swooped over my words, absorbing them as if they were meant to be his.
“We’ll leave you today with some sad news out of RhodeIsland this morning. Jesse Ringwater, a much-loved high school history teacher and happily married father, is in a coma. Ringwater tried to take his own life after learning his soulmate was a fourteen-year-old he’d never met—who he learned come September was his incoming freshman student. Sources say Ringwater wanted to spare both himself and his family the embarrassment of being soulmates with the student and made the attempt before he learned that the fourteen-year-old was actually the biological daughter he never knew he’d had from a prior relationship.”
Thankfully, this news was so sobering that I didn’t have to smile, because there was no world in which I could right now, considering the fact that I wasn’t even breathing properly.
“And now back to Richard for the weather, and your local weatherperson where you are.”
“Cut,” called the set director. I slumped against the back of the couch.
“Head between your knees,” Josef ordered, rubbing my shoulders. I blinked, consciousness dipping in and out, dizziness swarming my head, my jaw, my fingers. I heard Samantha snapping for our on-set medic.
Ayn or Ann shoved a glass of water in my hand. “That history teacher news is so upsetting,” she said. “It’s normal to feel the way you’re feeling.”
“Clear the set,” Samantha ordered from yards away.
“She’s so empathetic,” Ann whispered to Ayn as they left.
But Josef stayed with me. “You breathing?”
I was. Oxygen lapped at the dizziness, battling it back. “I’m okay,” I lied. “I think I’m LBSing.”
“Low blood sugar is a rookie mistake.” Josef eyed me.
“I was out of bagels this morning.” And I was stuck in a jail the universe had created, but there was no way to explain that.
“You know, this job sits very close to unexplained things.” Josef squeezed my shoulder, a pulse of fatherly comfort that made my rib cage hitch. “It’s okay to be angry with the world, the universe.” Josef paused. “With Soulmail.”
