jilt
\ jilt \ , verb;
1. to reject or cast aside (a lover or sweetheart), especially abruptly or unfeelingly.
1. a woman who jilts a lover.
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Ed nursed his fourth beer.
Or was it his fifth? Or
sixth? He had lost count he’d had so
many. He knew he’d have a massive
hangover tomorrow, but at the moment, he didn’t really care. He just wanted to forget. Of course, that wasn’t really possible, given
the circumstances.
He
stared at the small jewelry box that rested on the bar’s countertop in front of
him. He didn’t know why he kept the box
out in the open. It would be much better
if he put it in his pocket. Maybe a part
of him was hoping someone would snatch it up when he went to the bathroom. At least then someone would get some use out
of the very expensive diamond ring that was inside it.
“Hey,
you ok pal? You’ve had like, eight of
those.” Said someone on his right. Ed’s head lolled over to look at the
speaker. It was a short, pudgy, friendly
looking man sitting on the stool next to him.
Ed tried to remember if the man was always there, if he had just shown
up, or if he was the product of all the alcohol coursing through his
bloodstream.
“Whatever.”
Ed slurred out.
“What
happened? A guy doesn’t drink like that
unless something’s wrong. So, what’s
up? Maybe I can help.”
“Nnnnoooope.”
Ed said. “Can’t help.”
“Why
not? I’m a pretty good problem solver.”
“Cause
the problem… the problem is this.” He
said as he took hold of the box and held it out for the man to see.
“Oh. I see.
I take it she said no.”
“Not
just no. She dumped me. I asked her to marry me, and she dumped me.”
It took a few tries for Ed to get out such a complex sentence, but he finally
managed.
“That
sucks. Wait…you didn’t ask her after a
month or something, did you?” the man asked.
“Five
years!” Ed said. He held up an unsteady hand, holding all five
of his fingers up for emphasis. “Five of
the…the best years I ever had. I…I
treated her good. Real good, and she
just…she just…” Ed began blubbering
before he could finish his sentence.
Ed very
nearly collapsed onto the man’s shoulder, and shed his tears there. The man awkwardly patted Ed’s back as his
shirt became soaked with the drunk’s tears.
He motioned over to the bartender, and gave a silent signal to cut Ed
off from any future drink orders. The
bartender nodded his agreement. Ed
suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around the man’s neck. He wanted desperately to remove them, but
thought better of it, opting instead to continue patting him on the back. He just hoped Ed would stop soon. He happened to like the shirt he was wearing,
and it would take quite some work to get the smell of beer and tears out of
it. Thankfully, Ed soon let go, and
returned to an upright position on his bar stool. Or at least as upright as he could get. He just ended up flopping onto the bar, cradling
his beer in one hand and the box in the other.
“Feeling
better?” The man asked, reaching for
some napkins to try and dry his shoulder off.
“Little
bit.” Ed slurred out.
“Alright
then. So, what exactly happened?”
“Said I
don’t have any am…ambich…ambition. I got
plenty of ambition. It’s just…just
different than hers.”
“And
that’s why she left you?”
“Guess
so. Didn’t say anything else. Just said I’m not going nowhere, and
left. Just like that.” He tried to snap
his fingers, but found his fingers unable to accomplish the task. He tried a few more times, but gave up in
favor of taking a long drink from his glass.
“Ouch. Well, look on the bright side.”
“What
bright side?”
“You’re
single now. That means you have infinite
possibilities ahead of you. You can find
a new girl. A better one. One that appreciates your ambitions, whatever
they may be.”
“Better? No better than her. She was perfect.” Ed said, new tears forming in his eyes.
“Well,
clearly she wasn’t. I mean…”
“You…you
take that back!” Ed said, raising a shaky
fist in attempted threat.
“I mean,
if she couldn’t see whatever it is you want to do as ambition, then she clearly
wasn’t right for you. You might not see
that now, but in a few days I’m sure you’ll come to your senses about it.” The man said.
Ed just mumbled something in response.
His head came in contact with the bar as he continued to mumble
incoherently.
It looked to the man like he was
nearing his limits and was about to pass out.
He considered his options about the drunken man. He couldn’t just leave the guy there. But at the same time he didn’t know where he
lived to call a cab, and inviting him into his own place might not be the best
idea.
“Peggy why?
Why’d you leave me?” Ed muttered,
just loud enough to be heard.
The man sighed. He got his shoulder under Ed’s and
heaved. Fortunately, Ed still had some consciousness
in him, and was able to stay more or less upright with a little help. He wasn’t coherent enough to protest when the
man guided him out to his car and put him in the back seat of his car. The man knew he might end up regretting the decision,
but he couldn’t leave Ed alone in such a condition. He drove off, with his passenger muttering to
himself, hoping that he wouldn’t end up having to clean up vomit the next
morning.
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Who else has been in this position? I personally haven't, but I'm sure it must be terrible.
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