DARK TALES | HUMOUR

The One That Got Away

For auld lang syne

Photo by Bálint Szabó on Unsplash

When Effie showed up at my door with a bottle of ice wine, I was not impressed. For one thing, I hadn’t heard from her in over a decade. Oh, sure, my mother had always warned me Effie wasn’t “the one” — whatever the hell that meant. Even Effie’s mother, our next-door neighbor for as long as I could remember, had always been pretty cool to the notion of Effie and me hooking up.

But, seriously, wasn’t that the American dream? Fall in love with the sweet, overlooked girl next door. Instead of the naughty one you met at college and took off with to Ft. Lauderdale for Spring Break bacchanals, much to the displeasure of your disapproving mom?

Except it had been Effie I took off with, to the dismay of both our moms, and that Spring Break had been epic by any standards.

Then, Effie transferred to a college back east — her mom’s alma mater, and the one she was always supposed to attend. The grand rebellion was over.

I tried calling — leaving messages. She didn’t pick up. Texting — not a single emoji in return. I emailed. My pleas were met with the sound of crickets.

After a while, I gave up. If she’d blocked my number, it might have justified the ensuing weeks of angry sulks and periodic bouts of…