MB Short Story: I Told You So

                “For the last time, it is NOT going to rain.” Glitch shoves her phone into Kent’s face. “See that forecast? Zero percent chance of rain. Meteorologists sacrificed their lives getting that data.”

                “Doubtful,” Kent states.

                Glitch rolls her eyes. “Well, they at least sacrificed sleep. My point remains unchanged: It. Is. Not. Going. To. Rain.” She pulls aside the curtain on the living room window and gestures dramatically to the clear, sunny sky beyond. “See? Not a raincloud in sight.”

                “Antigone is biting her tail,” Kent says simply.

                “So?”

                “It’s going to rain.”

                Glitch throws both her hands up in the air. “God, why must you torment me with this idiot of a best friend?” she demands to the heavens. “Kent, the sun is shining. Not a single cloud has dared to cross that glorious expanse of baby blue above us. The heavens are clear.”

                “It’s going to rain,” Kent repeats.

                “A bet, then,” Glitch proposes. “We go to meet El and Sally at the beach, like we already agreed to do. If it doesn’t rain, you have to buy everyone lunch. And if by some malicious miracle you’re actually right and it does rains . . . well, you’ll get to say ‘I told you so,’ and I promise not to argue.”

                Kent takes a moment to contemplate the bargain. “Deal.”

                Three hours later, Chicago has fallen to the dark side. The once pristine blue firmament is now shrouded in ominous black, thunder roaring without ceasefire as it rolls from cloud to cloud. The heavens have sundered, torrential rain pounding down upon the unsuspecting beachgoers.

                Unsuspecting, that is, except for Kent Zarneki, who calmly takes a fold-up umbrella out of his tote while his friends shriek and flee to seek shelter beneath a bagel shop’s entry way overhang.

                “Black magic,” Glitch accuses, jabbing her index finger into Kent’s chest. “That’s the only way you could’ve known that this was going to happen.”

                “Kent predicted this?” Sally asks, squeezing the water out of her curls. “But the weather report didn’t say anything about rain.”

                “Ah,” Ellery says, as if Kent being a witch makes all the sense in the world. “Annie was biting her tail this morning?”

                Kent nods.

                “Stop acting like that makes sense!” Glitch squawks. “It doesn’t! The weather report is science! What’s next, we watch a ground hog to see if spring has arrived? Consult the migration patterns of pigeons for advice on our love lives?”

                “I mean, animals can often sense—” Sally breaks off as Glitch glares at her ferociously. “You’re right,” she corrects, suppressing a chuckle. “It’s definitely witchcraft.”

                “And the worst part of all is that he won the bet!” Glitch groans. “Y’all don’t know how insufferable he becomes when he gets to say ‘I told you so.’”

                Kent smiles slightly and Glitch points an accusatory finger at him. “See? See that smirk right there. It’s because he won’t say it right away. I have to wait for weeks, once even months, waiting for the bomb to drop. And then when he FINALLY says it, he does in public, at the perfect time to make me look like a complete and utter moron. It’s a game to him! A sadistic, wicked game!” She whirls to face Ellery. “You have terrible taste in men, sugar.”

                “I don’t understand what the big deal is,” Sally says as Ellery and Kent exchange smitten glances.

                “Oh, you will,” Glitch warns darkly as storm clouds roil overhead. “You will.” 

                Three weeks later, the words “I told you so” have yet to cross Kent Zarneki’s lips. Glitch pleads with her friend, but he only shrugs and says “I forgot about that.”

                Glitch knows this is a lie. Kent Zarneki has the memory of a vengeful elephant.

                (Ellery’s naïve insistence that, no, Kent really just forgot about the bet falls upon deaf ears. Of course, Ellery wants to defend their boyfriend. But Glitch knows that Kent remembers, and that he’s simply biding his time like a circling shark.)

                A year passes. Then two years.

                Ellery and Kent are married. Glitch forgets about the bet, although sometimes wonders about the contemplative, smug smile that occasionally curves Kent’s lips.

                Another two years go by.

                Then half a decade. Talia (as she now primarily goes by) is in her early thirties, newly single after an impulsive marriage to a Vegas stage magician—their union, which lasted two month, had been brief and ill-advised but extremely fun while it lasted.

                “I know that you said it wouldn’t last, and you were right,” Talia says as she informs Kent about her impending divorce.

                Kent simply smiles. “You can stay with us until you find a new place,” he says. “You’re family.”

                “Thanks,” Talia replies. “I’ll try not to be an inconvenience since you two are already dealing with the new baby.” She forces a smile and adds in an upbeat tone, “At least I can now check ‘having a wedding ceremony officiated by Elvis’ off the bucket list.”

                Three years and two divorces later (her exes, Talia insists, made terrible spouses but remain wonderful friends), Talia now goes by “Auntie Talia” to Kent and Ellery’s child. At thirty-five, she still has time to find a lasting relationship but . . . well, Talia’s decided to view her love life as series of grand adventures even if the goal of happily-ever-after currently remains elusive.

                “You sure that you don’t mind me tagging along on your vacation?” she asks Ellery, who scoffs at the question.

                “Don’t worry, Kent and I go on plenty of romantic getaways alone together because you stay over to watch the kiddo and the dogs,” Ellery says as she purchases four tickets (three adults, one child) at the booth. She hands one to Talia. “This is a family trip, and you’re family.”

                A small, sticky hand slides into Talia’s, and her godchild begins dragging her excitedly towards the amusement park entrance. Talia’s throat tightens. “Family, huh? I guess that we really are.”

                She glances away, feeling inexplicably shy, only for her gaze to land on Kent. His lips curve in a hauntingly familiar, smug smile, and all of a sudden Talia recalls a stormy day in Chicago that happened over a decade ago.

                “I told you so,” Kent says.

                Talia smiles back, knowing that she’s not allowed to argue.