A NIGHT OUT: PART 6

It’s funny what’s happening right now. I had meant to call Gordy yesterday and tell him I couldn’t go. I dialed and everything with the best of intentions. But instead I called Marty and told him to come at seven thirty. It’s not that I feel angry or rebellious or anything. I’m just sort of watching myself from the outside—watching myself settle Dad in front of the TV and tell him to sit tight for a few minutes until Marty arrives, watching the car pull up, and watching myself go.

I go.