My girlfriend died. She was in a car accident. My mother woke me up the next morning to tell me. She was a mess and I found myself comforting her instead of processing what she had just told me. After she left it sunk in. I cried for hours. I started crying because my girl was gone. I kept crying because our last words had been hard ones. A fight over the phone.
The funeral was awful. I only glanced at her body. Too much make up. It made me ill.
Later that night I found myself hugging my pillow, unable to sleep. I fumbled for my phone in the dark. I read our last text conversation. Then I wrote her a new message:
Me: I’m so sorry, Ipsa. I’ll love you forever.
I hit send and eventually drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to my phone buzzing. I looked at the time. 1:49 am. It was a message from her phone.
Ipsa: Forever? 🙂
Who has her phone? I wondered. I was instantly angry.
Me: Who is this?
Ipsa: It’s me, Ipsa.
I was so angry tears started welling up in my eyes.
Me: Whoever the hell this is, please… just stop.
Ipsa: It’s me, I promise. I’ll prove it. Ask me something only I would know.
I proceeded to grill her with question after question. The sun was up before I was convinced. But it was undoubtedly her. She said she couldn’t tell me where she was, but that it was amazing and she was happy. She said it was against the rules to talk to me, but that she couldn’t help it. That made me smile. She said she couldn’t call, but that she would continue to text me whenever she could.
For months we conversed via text messages, usually late at night. We mostly reminisced about old times. She refused to share any details about her new life. I didn’t want to pry. I was just happy to read her messages.
Then she told me I should start dating again. I told her no. We started arguing:
Ipsa: I don’t think we should text each other anymore.
Me: What are you talking about?
Ipsa: This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.
Me: No. Wait. I’m sorry. I can’t lose you again.
Ipsa: I love you.
Ipsa: Goodbye.
I texted her everyday for weeks begging her to write me back. I soon found myself in the grips of depression. I had lost her all over again.
One night I awoke from a dream I was having about Ipsa only to find myself alone in bed. My room was cold and dark. I had left the window open. I grabbed my phone to check the time. 1:49 am. Zero messages. I would have cried, but I was all cried out.
I heard a faint shuffling noise coming from inside the closet in front of my bed. I looked up… And there she was. She slowly emerged from behind my hanging shirts and jackets, pushing them aside. Even in the dark her delicate features were unmistakable. Her dark, wavy hair bounced as she walked slowly toward me.
“Ipsa.” I whispered. My heart was pounding. She didn’t say a word. She just stared into my eyes with a sideways smile on her beautiful face. The moon coming in from my window made her pale skin glow.
Suddenly, my phone vibrated on my bed. I jumped. She stopped and looked down at it.
Maybe she can’t speak, I thought. I picked up the phone and read the message:
Ipsa: THAT’S NOT ME!