I made it to school on Tuesday. I was a bit hungover from the headache—when I get a headache, the best thing I can do is sleep; but that never really counts as sleep since I’ve got a headache the whole time; so, the day after a headache, I’ve effectively gone without sleep since before the headache began.
Due to that, I don’t remember all that much about 6th September 1988. What I do remember, though, is slightly important to our story.
School being over for the day, we Omnied about again, ending up at VillageInn. Technically, that was also dangerous, since it was the one on MerleHay, back when there was one there. By some luck, it turned out that Nancy was no longer a waitress, and I didn’t really know anyone who was. Because, when you’re at a restaurant with a chick who’s starting to dig you, it’s best to avoid the chicks who have survived to the other side, where they’ve concluded that you’re the antichrist. Just to be practical.
Coffee and fries. Catsup and mustard. And this:
‘I’m leaving Dean.’
Just like that. No warning or explanation.
‘How come?’
‘You already know.’
That was a lie. I already suspected; I didn’t actually know. So, I waited.
‘This is becoming a regular thing,’ she said, ‘and it’s not really fair to anyone to do this regular thing while I’m supposed to be going out with someone else.’
‘You’re leaving him so we can eat fries?’
‘And stuff. Yeah.’
‘Neat.’
‘What about your whatshername.’
‘Susan. Yeah. Dunno.’
‘You want to stay with her?’
‘I don’t leave people.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it sucks.’
‘It sucks, so you’d rather be the one to get left?’
‘Kinda. Optimally, things work out and no one ever leaves. Failing that, I guess I’m comfier getting dumped than I am dumping someone else.’
‘That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard. In an ironic sort of way.’
‘That’s me: ironical.’
‘I’m still leaving Dean.’
‘Okay.’
‘Then, if you’re available….’
‘Yeah.’
‘Can you just tell her you’re not happy where you are? With her.’
‘She already knows that.’
‘So just get rid of her. Can’t you do that?’
‘Maybe. I’ll talk to her and see what happens.’
We hung out for a while, avoiding the issue. Then she Omnied me down to MerleHay and Franklin. About a block from Susan’s house. I walked from there.
The solution was simple. Just not easy. Because Susan would, by definition, do whatever I said. Unless it involved a squadcar; then she’d just try real hard.
So we’re on her back patio, discussing this final dare.
‘You want me to leave you,’ she says.
‘Yeah.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s the only thing I haven’t got you to do.’
It didn’t make a lot of sense to me either. But it seemed like an option.
‘You found someone else. Didn’t you.’
I nodded. ‘Maybe. But it’s not just that. It’s that we’re not happy anyway.’
‘I can make you happy.’
‘Yeah. Just, not without my permission.’
‘You don’t want me to make you happy?’
I thought about that for a moment. ‘Not really.’
She almost got angry. Or, probably, really got angry, and nearly showed it. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘Go.’
I didn’t.
‘Go ahead. Go away. Not because you want to, or because someone else wants you to; because all I ever wanted to do was to make you happy.’
‘I know.’
‘But, if I can’t, then go. If you’re not happy here, then there’s no point trying.’
So, I went. Just that simply.