Page 88 of The Girl with No Name
Finally recognizing the seriousness of my tone, he pulls over to the shoulder. I run out and puke my guts into the ditch next to some midwestern forest, and now I’ve got grass and trees to apologize to as well.
“Hey…” I hear Luna’s soft voice behind me. “I’m really sorry about last night. That was my fault. I should have never?—”
“It’s not your fault,” I say, wiping my mouth. “It’s not your fault.”
I straighten to look at her, and she nods gently.
I pull a breath in and blow it out. “I’m feeling a little better now. Let’s go.”
When we get backto the city, Luna gives us an address, and eventually we pull up in front of a big van parked on someone’s property on the north side.
“This is where you live,” I say as we open the trunk to get Luna’s stuff. It’s more of a statement than a question.
“For now. I might be moving somewhere else soon. We’ll see,” she says.
“Let me carry this to your house—I mean, your van—for you,” I say.
We walk over, and she unlocks and opens the door. I heave her bag onto the passenger seat. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.”
“Guess so. It was a fun weekend.”
I nod, not sure what else to say.
Luna turns, and I think I hear her sniffle, but I’m not sure.
I walk back to the car, and Dunn looks over at me once we’ve pulled away.
“Okay. What the fuck happened last night, Walker?” he asks.
“I made out with Luna.”
“I knew there was something going on there.”
“Yeah. There was.”
“How do you feel about that?”
“Mostly I feel like shit for cheating on Samantha.”
“So what are you gonna do?”
“My mind’s a mess, man. I have the ring at home. My whole life is planned around Samantha. Around us. This is a major fuck up.” I swallow. “I ruined my life.” I pound the dashboard. “Fuck, man!”
“Well, you have two options,” Dunn says calmly as he turns onto the highway. “You’ve either got some self-loathing to do, or a stand to take. The second option involves you telling Samantha and living with the consequences.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“That’s your decision, my friend.”
Typical, fatherly Charlie Dunn advice.
Ten minutes later, we pull up in front of my apartment.
“Well, man, it’s been one for the books,” I say.
“Definitely for the books. Thanks for coming. Sorry if I fucked up your life by bringing that girl along,” Dunn says with nonchalant, black humor only he can pull off.
“I had a good time, man.”