From Hereafter: A Collection of Memoirs

Catfish

Note: Everything in this story is 100% true; readers always ask me how do I remember details so well years later, well, it's actually that I document literally everything, or used to (bored at work at my old job). All the details and dialogue from this story were not only pulled from records I kept at the time, but also actual screenshots. So some quotes that may seem crazy are actually word for word.

Corey was a firm believer in astrology. The Universe spoke to him, and through him, and he spoke to It. He sent me my horoscope. "Read this," he directed. I opened the link.

You will need to make an extremely important decision. In order to make the right choice, you must reflect on the last two years. What has happened to you? What have you gone through? And, what have you learned from it all?

"Check out mine," he added once my fortune had thoroughly soaked through me.

You must trust the path that you are on, no matter how hard the world wants you to question it right now. You are exactly where you need to be and don't let anyone tell you differently.

A few weeks later, Corey's roommate was killed tragically in a car accident, and his soulmate reappeared.

Corey had told me the story of the love of his life on the day we first met. They found each other on Facebook in March, and quickly fell into talking 24/7. "We're twin flames," he explained. "Soulmates. We had the strongest connection I've ever felt with anyone. She is everything I've ever wanted in a girl." Then, in May, with no warning, she stopped responding. Her account became inactive, but she never blocked him. She had just disappeared.

"It all makes sense. She explained everything. It turns out she was in a mental institution this whole time and didn't have her phone," he told me. We were sitting on folding chairs in his living room, just the two of us. I was drinking peach vodka and he was smoking. He scrolled through their messages to freshen his memory of the full story. "She kept a journal, and inside she wrote a letter to me every single day, and poems. She's going to send them all to me. I'm going to turn them all into songs– it'll be the greatest album of all time." He explained, "She couldn't call because she didn't know my number by heart."

I replayed the last two months I had known Corey. I pictured his days: sleeping late, driving around, delivering weed to his "custies," picking up food, performing, filming music videos; I pictured his nights: setting up shop in his living room, endless waves of people coming in and out, recording songs, smoking, and drinking. All the while, this girl was locked up in an institution, missing him, writing love letters to him daily, thinking of him, wondering how he felt about her disappearing, wondering if he'll forgive her, wondering if he'll wait for her.

"We're going to meet this weekend, and then I'm going to have her move in with me," he said dreamily.

The weekend crept in without me realizing. A powerful tropical storm slammed Connecticut. While my power stayed on, most of my friends lost theirs. After being subjected to complaints all day by my friend Thomas that he couldn't charge his phone, I invited him to stay at my apartment until his electricity came back.

"Wi-fi, air conditioning, lights, fridge, outlets, everything you need," I offered. He drove up all the way from Norwalk. We fell asleep watching It's Always Sunny on my projector. Just before my eyes closed, I remembered it was the night Corey was to meet his soulmate. I wondered how it went. I hadn't heard anything from him all night so I assumed it had gone well. I pictured them staying up late, talking all night, smiling and laughing.

When I woke up I saw that I had over fifty missed calls from Corey. I went to my missed texts first to see "She never showed up. She hasn't responded. I am worried SICK I've literally been up all night waiting. I think something terrible happened to her."