I was feeling pretty low. I wasn’t in love with Patsy or anything crazy like that. It wasn’t that my pride had been hurt either. I don’t think that I could honestly say that I had any left after the other day. Going down on my knees and actually begging her to come back. And crying real tears while she just laughed.
Since she dumped me for Bobby I’d been hitting the bottle pretty hard and my head was getting a bit messed up. I suppose I just felt like a fool, especially after they announced they were getting married, and it was clear they’d been carrying on a long time before.
When I got the invitation to the engagement party I tore it into a hundred pieces which made me feel better for about two seconds. What kind of sad bastard was I, taking it out on a bit of paper?
The other thing that was eating me up pretty bad was the smirk on Bobby’s face every time he saw me. If I hadn’t known that he could beat the shit out of me, I’d have punched his face in. I suppose I could’ve busted a lump of wood over his head one dark night, but it would’ve only satisfied me briefly, like tearing up the invitation.
In the end I went to the party just like the whole rest of the town did. In a place like Ferndale you took what action you could get. I got drunk all right and smashed a few things before the self-pity set in, and I took myself outside to sit with a bottle in the moonlight. That’s when I witnessed the bust-up.
They burst outside and Patsy laid into him real strong, telling him the wedding was off and he was a lousy bastard and she wished she’d stayed with Curly. That was me.
She stormed back inside and Bobby saw me then. I waved the bottle and he came to sit down.
“She can go fuck herself,” he said, taking a big hit.
“Amen,” I said.