According to Bill he dumped her first, before it was over, in order to save some face. “Good for you,” I said facetiously, but he thought I was serious. He went on about how courage was the most important ingredient in his life. Courage, to face the inevitable end, then, charge ahead. This time I did not agree or disagree. Grief, guilt, fear, they were all here. Courage was late though. He was like something screwed into a tight electrical socket, but no power was flowing. I suggested a hot meal, for his courage, and he said that eating would only remind him of her, for they always ate together.

          “Funny thing…” He tried not to slur his words by forcing his mouth into the correct shapes. “Never thought of myself as having any courage. ‘Til lately. Striking out in life, risking everything in business. Letting myself fall in love—taking root in life,” he said, holding up his fist a few inches, and dropping it. “Suddenly, she doesn’t want that. She grew up.” He made an ugly face. “Now, I’m not good enough, or intellectual enough. She was more selfish than me!” He reached out his glass in a mock toast, and swallowed half a pint of Guinness. I noted its descent in a string of lumps through his neck. He swayed on the stool as one large lump was ascending. Then, he belched vengefully as though to expel the sick from his stomach. His large brown eyes were glazed over. In the fluid of his eyeballs I watched the reflection of things going on around him.

Read the exciting climax and conclusion in the upcoming Adult Stories!