Epilogue

     “What the hell happened to Connie?”  Linda asked.  We were digging through my dismal romantic history.

     “I told you.  She was in Argentina with her family.  I haven’t spoken to her in almost twenty years.  I heard she’s married with a couple of kids now.”

     The Yard had been closed for just over a decade.  It had gone through various owners and incarnations.  Now it was an abandoned store front just off the highway.

     Linda was back to visit her parents and check on her nieces.  Her bartending years were far behind her.  She had built a nice little life in one of the boroughs just a couple of stops off the island.  She and her current live-in love were taking a breather before making the next move.  

     She always calls when she’s in the state and I always answer.     

     “That’s it?”  

     “That’s all I know.  I wish I could give you the movie ending where I flew to Argentina, swept her off her feet, and everything was all right.  It just didn’t happen.

     “She said she wanted that night, her twenty-first birthday, to be perfect.  Who am I to ruin someone else’s dream?” 

     “Did you ever think she wanted you to fight for her?”

     “I gave her everything I was capable of a the time.  She had so much going on between work, school, her family, and her boyfriend that my lackadaisical attitude - though fun in the short term - would have bred resentment.”

     “Maybe it was the balance she needed,” she said stirring her tea.

     “I mean, in the beginning, there was balance but then the scale started to tip and life got in the way.” 

     “Life always gets in the way if you let it.”

     “We can say that now.  Do you remember being twenty-one, twenty-two?  Life flipped us around like rag dolls.  The only people I knew who seemed to have it together were Tony and Karen.”

     “Oh I heard about the divorce.”

     “Yeah, hindsight can be a bitch.  I mean, I overthink things all the time but strangely, I’m ok with how this ended.  We can’t go back anyway.”

     “But don’t you ever wonder?”

     “Every once in a while I’ll type her name into twit/face/insta/space but I try not to go down the rabbit hole.  Past hurts can be a bastard.  I wish her the best and I hope life is treating her well.

    “Blah, blah, blah.  Enough about me.  What’s going on in your world?”  I asked preparing to hear about her next move.

     The memory of Connie had been closed for just over a decade.  It had gone through various incarnations.  Now it was like an abandoned store front just off the highway.