Do Soulmates Exist?

On tarot readings, sisterhood, and - shit, I think my prefrontal cortex just developed.

New York, 2022, my sister and I were walking through West Village one evening when we decided to see a psychic. It had been raining and the streets reflected red around us from this outrageously bright crocodile coat I’d bought second hand. We’d gone to see Carrie Bradshaw’s apartment because what else would we do, and were planning on heading back to our hotel - that’s when we saw that amber glowing shopfront. Psychic readings inside. $25 dollars for your future.

We both paused for a moment before deciding to go in. We were both waist deep in grief and looking for meaning wherever we could, so this felt like the right thing to do. Although, as I stood outside the door, I felt nervous to go in, scared she’d tell me something unfathomably bad like I had a deadly disease but she had an inviting smile and a chance to get out the rain. So, we went in.

It was a tiny shop, if you would call it that, with fringed fabric hanging off every surface and crystals hanging everywhere. Gentle music played in the background and pillar candles lit in every corner. It was gold, and ornate, and everything I loved.

“One at a time.” She said and then pointed at Eve, “Can you wait outside?”

The psychic held my hand and looked into my eyes, and as promised she told me my future. She told me three things:

1. I needed to leave my city for somewhere bigger.

2. I was going to get sick.

3. My soulmate was close.

“They’re right round the corner.” She said. “I can feel it.”

New York, 2022.

I returned back to my outgrown city and my outgrown job, and I told my colleagues about my reading. They laughed at me as much as I laughed at myself, and every time someone would come to deliver a package to the office everyone would clap and figure out if it was my soulmate. It was nearly always a man above 50 that left a lot to be desired.

As the months passed, the psychics prophecy expired. I knew it was all silliness really, I couldn’t really believe in all that. My colleagues jokes got old and we all kind of forgot what I’d been promised. Or at least I pretended to.

“Do you actually believe in soulmates?” One colleague asked.

“No, of course not!” I said confidently. “There can’t just be one person, right?” My confidence shrinking as I thought more and more about it.

The truth was, I did love the idea of it. Even from hearing about monogamous animals like penguins and seahorses as a kid, to me, romantic love had always felt like the be all and end all. Humans have flirted with the idea of a soulmate for centuries, in 385 BCE, the Greek Philosopher Plato wrote that all humans once had four arms and four legs. That Zeus had split us in half as punishment and it was now our destiny to spend our lives searching for our ‘other half’.

Years later, as the idea of a soulmate became more and more far fetched, I’d sometimes wonder if I had taken the psychic too metaphorically. Maybe my soulmate was physically in New York and I should go back there. They say if you feel drawn to certain cities it’s because there’s a story waiting for you.

The majority of the time though, I think the idea of a soulmate is only good when it remains a thought. The pressure of finding one person that is perfect enough for you and you are perfect for feels inconceivable now in a generation of disposable living. I don’t think I can justifiably believe romantic love can last a lifetime. Though, sometimes I think it might be nice to be proven wrong.

* * *

My grandparents used to breed dogs, their back garden full each year of all these puppies and they took great pride in their lineage. King breed golden retrievers, they’d kept the line going for generations. Like fuck sake, even these dogs have got grand love stories. Though as a child, all I cared about was each summer I got to be covered in puppies.

“Don’t get too attached.” My grandad would say, “they all go to their new homes next week.”

“Alone? Won’t they miss each other?”

I looked at my sister. The shyest dog of the group had curled up in the safety of her lap. She was five years older than me and my entire world. I couldn’t imagine being a part from her. The kindest person I have ever known, she’s always been my best friend.

My grandad laughed and told me it’s best not to keep two siblings around at the same time anyway. They get this thing called littermate syndrome. A codependency on each other that means they don’t need anyone else. It can cause difficulty bonding with humans, separation anxiety, and general poor socialisation.

I often imagine what my sister did in the five years and five days before I was born; I like to think she was carefree with no responsibilities. A version of her I’ll never get to meet. There’s this photo of her holding a newborn me in the hospital with both hands and I take up her whole lap. It’s like you can physically see the cogs whirring in her brain as she accepts this newfound responsibility.

Eve & Emilie, October 4th 1999

Every milestone of my life, she has been there. Gently paving the way for each step I take, a gentle sounding board of every life decision. She’s the person that offers unwavering support for everything in my life, I’ve never known such unconditional love. You see, I’m a bad sister, I forget to call, I forget plans we make, I’m flaky and forgetful - yet undeservedly, she puts a calm hand to my back and tells me it’s not my fault when we both know it is.

Maybe this is what true love is, not something you deserve or have to earn. Something that flows like water where it needs to go. I look at her and wonder how she has done it all, carved a life out of what she has been given so gracefully. No older sister to have done these things for her. To teach her about the things that she lovingly taught me.

Love wasn’t when a man hurt me, but when my sister drove through the night to get to me. Love wasn’t when another ended things when I got sick, but my sister taking care of me. Love wasn’t every time somebody made me cry, but my sister making sure I was going to be okay.

I have spent a long time obsessing over love stories without realising I have been in one since that photograph was taken on October 4th 1999. Today is my sister’s birthday, and I know now I’ve always been lucky in love.

* * *

I couldn’t see Eve as I stepped out of the psychics shop. She’d covered from the rain under a porch, cigarette in hand.

“Your soulmate is right around the corner. I can feel it.”

-Shit, I think my prefrontal cortex just developed.

Happy 30th birthday, Eve.