Medeler found out that her soulmate was the very same person who she'd ghosted two weeks ago with a Lorde lyric.
It hadn't even been a good one.
It's buzzcut season anyway. It was basically the title of the song. No context. No reason for ghosting. The empty gesture of someone with a cynical heart. Roll credits.
Medeler diagnosed herself as a bit of a music geek. This was, of course, the most annoying trait about her - everyone said so - but a bit meant a bit, so Medeler didn't see what was so wrong about it. Medeler adored Lorde, really. And anyway, she knew that her soulmate didn't adore Lorde because Lorde was from New Zealand, and her soulmate didn't listen to artists too far east for... personal reasons.
She found out her soulmate through trial and error. Through the journey of song, if you would. Because everyone really hated her music. Her very own sister, who she had been baptized together with, hated her music. And Kurt Wilkins - her soulmate - did not. Kurt Wilkins was an up-and-coming DJ (or at least that was what it said in his insta bio) and he got her. It took a bit. Two weeks. But she found out.
Their last conversation had been as follows:
kw: your surname is made of so many things her: shoot your shot kw: meddler. ledger. melody. elegy. her: im pretty sure you just turned my surname into a slant rhyme kw: haha kw: wanna go for some fries her: it's buzzcut season anyway
And that was how she had ghosted her soulmate.
She figured it out by watching all twenty of his little stories on insta, all with him DJ-ing, and all of it being extremely fantastic and entwining with her soul. By the end of it, Medeler had thought she was in love with him.
Her mother (really a lovely woman) had laughed in her face when she had proposed this theory.
"Susan Ebony, your soulmate is not a DJ from Chicago who lost the fifth grade spelling bee."
"He can spell elegy, mother, he's talented shit," she had said.
Her mother had laughed in her face again and then went off to the retirement home to pillage tylenol from paper-thin crones because she really was a lovely woman, and also an addict.
Her full name was Susan Ebony Medeler, but because she hated her entire family (read: except twin sister) she had only adopted the surname. Perhaps this was only burrowing her further into her lineage, but she thought it was perfect. After all, no one had looked at websites and websites to name her Medeler. That had just been her surname. Susan Ebony was a bit like an old skin, like a snake who had shed it off and came away naked, or however snakes did their thing.
Medeler had been hovering over her screen for the past fifteen minutes crafting the perfect sentence that could:
1. Give him the same epiphany she'd had.
2. Be casual and not like she'd ghosted him two weeks ago. 3. Propel them into getting fries together because she really did feel bad. As a human being. And not. His soulmate. Or whatever.
The sixteenth minute, inspiration struck, because, like a gift from god, McDonald's started playing Break your heart by Dua Lipa. And logically, since she'd basically memorized every and all lyrics of said song, she could properly focus. McDonald's was really award-worthy. Golden Globe worthy. Whatever-cinema-award-that-was-appropriate-worthy worthy.
She actually just texted him where she was. And then, after about twelve seconds, when he did not reply, she pressed call because she was antsy and impatient and full of pent-up soulmate energy.
He answered on the first ring, which made her love for him increase exponentially. He was doing very well.
"Hey?" he asked. He had a very nice voice. It was like bells or something. "Medeler?"
"Did you get my text?" she asked. And then, because she could: "Kurt?"
"Yeah," Kurt said. "Medeler."
"Could you meet me here?" she asked. "Kurt."
"Why?" he asked. "Are you going to serenade me with Lorde?"
She was trying to frown but smiling. "If you'd like." A breath. "I really like you. I'm sorry I ghosted you. You're great."
"Is this because of my insta story?" he asked.
"Huh?" she asked, eloquently, waiting for him to say her name again. She really liked the way he said it.
"You were the only one who watched like, all twenty of them," he said.
"Is it weird to say everything you did kind of resonated with my soul? Like we were suddenly soulmates or something?" Medeler asked, who knew full well it was weird as shit.
He laughed. "Yeah, Medeler, it's weird. But I'll come."
"Great," she said, grinning preposterously. "Would it be okay if it were a date?"
"Yeah," Kurt said. "It would be really okay."
"Great," she said again, because she could now empathize with every helium-filled balloon in existence.
"Great," he echoed.
They got fries, and then they simultaneously ordered grape fanta, and then he turned to her and smiled and said "Now I kind of get that soulmate moment you had" and Medeler made a mental note to go to Lorde's next concert with him, if she were so lucky.