Epilogue
A Day Later
Wishful Thinking.
It wasn’t the end. You drove around two blocks, following the one-way streets. You parked. You wrote down your thoughts. Then you went back.
Jay was still standing on the curb.
And you just drove up and told him to get in.
Fool.
That was STUPID, McCrae.
You could have left him there. He would have gotten home somehow—walked, or met some friend in the mall who drives, SOMETHING.
You know WHY you should have done that? Because YOU would’ve had time to cool off. And HE would’ve realized how serious you were.
But you didn’t. There you were, trusty old Ducky, everybody’s pal.
And Jay was laughing, as if he KNEW you would return. And he called you something like “Duckerind, Driver from Hell” as he climbed in, and that comment did NOT help your mood.
NOT
ONE
BIT.
And you wanted to smack yourself for your own stupidity, for being loyal to someone who just dumps and dumps and dumps on you.
Clamp. Step on the gas. Backs flat against the seat.
As you raced past the mall, Jay shouted out, “HEY, I HAVE SHOPPING TO DO.”
You screeched to a stop and gave him a choice: shop by himself or catch a ride home.
He decided to stay in the car, and as you drove, he kept babbling on, sort of apologizing, sort of not, saying things that you had to tune out or you might drive off the road—hey, I didn’t mean to upset you…next time I’ll let you know…you should loosen up, Duckarind, have some fun…Barbara is just your type, really, but I’m not going to force you…What about Sunny, I can tell she likes you, but she’s kind of out there, huh?
Not getting it AT ALL.
By the time you pulled up in front of Jay’s house, you wanted to plant your foot in his side and kick him out the window.
As he opened the door, he had the NERVE to ask, “You still mad at me?”
And you discovered what you do when your brain starts flashing murderous thoughts.
You say nothing.
And the guy you just went out of your way to drive home shakes his head and mutters, “Some friend. You’re just like Alex.”
TTHAT’S the thanks you get.