Page 54 of The Last Thing You Said

But tonight when I walk in, catching the red screen door with my foot so it doesn’t slam, I see her. I stop dead right there and my stomach lurches, like I’m still hungover from all that tequila, which is probably the case.

She’s at a table in the far corner with Simon, and he’s got this big grin on his face. He reaches across the table and runs his finger across the back of her hand. She smiles at him.

No. She should be with me. All the time, not just at a wedding.

No. Whatever. Her life. Her decision.

In a split second, I have to decide if I’m going to stay or go. My foot is in the door. I could turn and go out and no one would ever know I was there.

“Ben,” Daniel calls from behind the counter. “You want your usual?”

Lucy looks up and her eyes bore into mine, her smile fades. I’m frozen. I can’t move. Shit.

And it’s like something has taken over my body when I shake my head in Daniel’s direction. “No, I just remembered—”

I’m gone. I turn and I’m out the door, and I don’t care who saw me and who didn’t, but I will not sit there and eat a burger in front of Lucy and her douchebag boyfriend. Again.

Guthrie is in the parking lot.

“Hey, man,” he says. “You going in?”

I shake my head.

“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah, fine,” I say.

But I’m not fine. I’m angry. The rage courses through me, my heart pumping poison instead of blood. I could beat the shit out of Guthrie right now. I could beat the shit out of Simon. I could beat the shit out of me.

“You leaving?” he asks.

“Yeah, I gotta go.”

He nods. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive. You can get pants-shitting drunk and pass out on the couch in my basement.”

The way he says it, so serious, all the tension I feel disappears. I laugh and follow him to his car.

We drive out to his house, and his mom makes us macaroni and cheese. I don’t get pants-shitting drunk. I don’t drink at all. I have to work in the morning and there’s nothing quite like the glare of the sun off the lake when you’ve got a hangover.

Especially when I’ve still got one from Saturday night.

Later, while Guthrie builds a fire in the pit, I decide to call Dana. I walk down to the lake.

I’m going to tell her that I think we should break up. I’ve been working up to it since Lucy put her arm through mine at the church. Besides, I’m a shit boyfriend and she deserves someone better.

It’s quiet on the shore, except for the bullfrogs, not like when I sit at the dock at Apple Tree Lane and can hear every car on Main Street. There’s a pile of rocks next to the dock. I stack one on top of the other. It’s not easy, and the rocks spill again and again, but I crave the repetition.

Dana picks up on the first ring. “Is everything okay? Aren’t you with Guthrie? It’s Monday.”

“Yeah,” I tell her.

“Are you drunk?”

“Nope.”

I put another rock on top of the stack but it’s not flat enough, and the whole thing falls over.

“Seriously, Ben, what’s wrong?”