It’s been a year and half since you sent me the email that got you lodged in my brain again. I was doing so well with forgetting you. I made productive strides to move on with my life. I rarely thought about you except for the handful of times that I thought I saw you in public. Once in the backroom of a bar. Once riding your bike. Once walking down the street when I was on a date with a very tall man. That time I thought you saw me, too, but you didn’t say anything and I didn’t say anything, so I can never really be sure.

Those were the only times I thought about you since our breakup, until the email.

You sent the email almost nine months after I dumped you. The subject line was simply ‘THE email’. It was sent at midnight - exactly at midnight, as if you were sitting in front of your computer for hours composing all the right words. The cherry on top, however, was the day it was sent. It was sent on Halloween night. Halloween. What a day to be haunted by you.

You knew all that, of course. You knew it would affect me just so.

I did expect that you would write something like that at some point. You know I did. That’s why you called it “THE email”. THE email always comes from a past lover and it always says something along the lines of: ‘I miss you and I hope you’re doing well. I think we should catch up’. I usually ignore THE email. I’ve ignored about half of THE emails, but yours was different.

It wasn’t different in content. You hit every note. You told me you thought of me sometimes and that you have no animosity toward me. Good! Then you said you wanted to catch up sometime.

I wasn’t happy about the way I left things, but I didn’t know how to make up for it. Do I reach out to you? That felt offensive. But you reached out. You did it! The gate had been unlocked and I wanted to go through that gate. I wanted to see you again, even if it would just be one time. We’d meet up, talk about old times, smile and end as friends.

I wrote back the very next day that I wanted to catch up. But you never wrote back. Never.
So I waited. For over a year. Why would you pop into my life on my favorite day of the year, bait me with sweet words, and then ghost? Who does that? What happened to missing me and hoping I’m well and blah blah blah? Was that all lip service? Drunken ramblings? What was it?

The last time I really saw you I was ordering you to get out of my apartment and you threw your keys at me. It was the only aggressive gesture you had ever made at me. But that’s okay. I was breaking your heart. And what has happened to your heart since? I had to know.

Maybe if I nudged you, we could meet up. Maybe I didn’t make it clear that I actually wanted to. Maybe I never told you I missed you.

So I wrote to you:

Hey!

Whatever happened to this? Were you just drunk when you sent it? If you’re into it, I’d love to catch up.

You responded. You actually did! The next day this reply was in my inbox:

Hi Rachel,

I meant what I said, but I realized there was no real reason to meet up. I wasn’t drunk then, but I kind of am now so I have to ask: why the email? Hunting for ghosts?

- Tanner

There’s that sense of humor I missed. Caustic and teasing, but still somewhat giving in. God, I missed the way you talked. I really did. Maybe I could explain to you that I broke up with you because of me. Maybe that’s what you wanted to know in the first place: closure.

So I wrote back within hours:

Hey Tan!

No, ghost-hunting. You know I’m too scared! You always said ‘you’d pee your pants if you saw a ghost for real’. I don’t want to take any chances!!! Haha, I just wanted to catch up.

Hope you’re well!

No response. Not for hours, days, weeks. I kept returning to the email, rereading yours and then rereading mine in a loop. Each time I read these emails I had a different interpretation like I was a shitty student in a poetry class.

Five months later, I drank two glasses of wine and:

Hey there,

I’m bummed you never responded to this. Don’t ya miss me? JK, but let’s be friends. Hope to see you soon,

Rach

Nothing nothing nothing and more nothing. Jesus Christ, why?! After our breakup you were constantly reaching out to me. What happened to that? What happened to that genuine outpouring of feelings that were suddenly bursting out of you? Those feelings that I, frankly, never saw when we were together because you were stoic and sullen all the time. You thought it made you a good artist, but it just made you an insufferable asshole.

Okay, you were never an asshole. But I wanted you to want me and it felt like you didn’t until I was gone. I was kind of turned on by the you I saw afterward. The you that needed me. So:

Tanner,

I don’t mean to bother you, but I have to tell you that I do miss you. I wonder what you’re up to. I want to know! I want you to be a part of my life again. Don’t you want that too? Let me know.

And then, hours later:

Hey Tan,

I’m sorry about that last email. It was needy and weird. The truth is that I want to talk to you, not about anything in particular. Just want to chat and catch up.

I think about you all the time. I can’t stop. I’m sorry I did what I did. I told myself that you’d be better off without me, but now I know that was more about me.

I was embarrassed about that one, so I gave it some time. Two more months. In those two months I tried to stalk you on social media, but you don’t really use it. Of course not. You were always too cool for that. You don’t need the validation.

But just because your social is a dead end doesn’t mean that everyone in your life is that way. I did some light stalking of your best friends on Instagram and your family and that’s when I realized that I had missed so much. Your grandpa died. Your parents moved! Your sister got married?! I wasn’t there for any of it.

Hey!!!

I did some snooping on your sis’s Insta and it looks like she got married to that guy you hate! OMG. Please tell me everything. What’s it like to have Paul as a brother-in-law? Coffee soon? Write me back!

You didn’t write back, but that was okay. I wrote to you in a new email thread. Maybe I’d get your attention that way. I titled the email ‘Oh, you know…’

Tanner,

There’s so much to tell you. My brother got married, both of my grandmothers died, I changed jobs. I got a staph infection on my leg. It was very gross. My skin was hot to the touch - like through my pants!!! I made all my friends touch it like a maniac. Haha, I bet you don’t miss that about me. I miss you though. I miss a lot of things about you.

Always,

Rachel

I loved writing you these emails. This must have been what soldiers felt when they wrote home. It made me certain that our love was the realest love that either of us would ever feel in our lives. I needed to be on your radar again. I’d give anything to be your obsession again. Wasn’t I once?

Tanner,

I’m sorry about everything. So sorry. Some days I remember something awful I said to you and my insides sting. I understand if you never talk to me again.

But if you do want to, Tan, I want you to. Call me. Write me. Text me. Like you always said, we have too many ways to communicate and we’re not that great at using any of them. Stumble through some thoughts with me anytime.

Rachel

And:

I think I see you all the time, but I’m never sure. If you saw me, would you smile? Or walk away?

And:

I’m so sorry for ever letting you go.

And:

I heard our song when I was sitting in a cafe during my lunch break and I got misty eyed. Do you remember when we danced in your apartment? I never hear that song and then there it was. That’s not even the weirdest part. I was drinking an espresso! A tiny cup! Remember our ‘Tan’s Tiny Cups’ series?! I had so many pictures of you holding those teeny tiny espresso mugs. I wish I still had them.

And:

Oh my GOD! You won’t believe this, but I FOUND A PICTURE OF YOU. It’s the first picture I ever took of you. The first time I spent the night there because I locked myself out of my apartment - I did for real and you never believed me - the next morning you made us coffee and sat shirtless on your couch in front of the bay window in the living room. I loved that apartment, by the way. I snapped a candid that I never showed you. I would look at it all the time. You look so young. You were so young. 23 and full of promise.. It’s hard to believe that was six years ago now. I’ll show the pic sometime. It’ll make you laugh.

And:

I still love you, Tanner.

And:

Did we ever go apple picking or am I making that up? I can’t remember. It feels ridiculous to think of us apple picking together, but I remember stopping at a cheese stand on the ride home. I’m embarrassed if I ever made you do that! Love, am I right? Love and Instagram pics.

And:

It’s been three years since we broke up. I think about it more now than ever. I wonder about you all the time. Why why why won’t you talk to me? I don’t understand.

Finally, you replied. You actually replied. I sat at work in the middle of the afternoon and noticed there was a new email in my inbox. It was from you. Your name felt like a magic word. There it was. After all this time! I clicked on it and read your reply:

Hi Rachel,

These emails make me very worried about you. I think you should try and talk to someone who isn’t me to sort all of these feelings out. Please get help.

All the best,

Tanner

I felt like I had crashed on a rollercoaster and was left pummeled on the pavement. That was it? Distant and clinical. I couldn’t even hear your voice saying it. It didn’t sound like you. It didn’t read like you. Was it even you? Was I ever writing to you at all?

It hit me that I didn’t remember what you even looked like anymore.

So. I blocked your email address. I deleted your number. I deleted you.