Post Office. Chapter III: 2
I phoned Joyce.
“How’s it working with Purple Stickpin?” “I can’t understand it,” she said.
“What did he do when you told him you were divorced?”
“We were sitting across from each other in the employee’s cafeteria when I told him.”
“What happened?”
“He dropped his fork. His mouth fell open. He said, ‘What?’ ”
“He knew you meant business then.”
“I can’t understand it. He’s been avoiding me ever since. When I see him in the hall he runs away. He doesn’t sit across from me anymore when we eat. He seems... well, almost... cold.”
“Baby, there are other men. Forget that guy. Set your sails for a new one.”
“It’s hard to forget him. I mean, the way he was.”
“Does he know that you have money?”
“No, I have never told him, he doesn’t know.” “Well, if you want him ...”
“No, no! I don’t want him that way!”
“All right, then. Goodbye Joyce.” “Goodbye, Hank.”
It wasn’t long after that, I got a letter from her. She was back in Texas. Grandma was very sick, she wasn’t expected to live long. People were asking about me. So forth. Love, Joyce.
I put the letter down and I could see that midget wondering how I had missed out. Little shaking freak, thinking I was such a clever bastard. It was hard to let him down like that.
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