One night we heard smashing in the living room, the sound of breaking glass. We get up and run out there, and there was his friend, the owner of the trailer, drunk, crying, holding a baseball bat in his hand, and a big fancy framed wall mirror all busted up, broken in pieces, on the living room floor. He kept saying the name of his ex wife, over and over again. They had just split too.
My guy tried to tell him to stop, but I took over. I leaned against the wall and looked into his eyes, I saw his hurt. I looked at the broken pieces of glass and said, "did it feel good?" He looked surprised. He just looked at me and goes, "Yeah....thanks."
When we were walking back into the bedroom I heard him say something like "that's one f***ing good woman."
I suppose that was a compliment.
I met the friend's ex wife a few months later. She went wild after the split and landed in jail on drug charges. I met her when she got out, they tried to get back together, no go. We all went out a few times, camped out at the lake, etc. Again, it's a blur. I don't remember much about her, just us getting the giggles really easy and laughing at nothing.
There was a dog there who lived under the front deck, she kept getting pregnant and having litter after litter. There was a friend who kept his things there, but got sent to jail, but he owed rent and couldn't pay. I was given this poor guy's bed just so he'd lose something. It was an old brass frame, spray-painted blue. I was told to take it. So I did, and felt guilty. If I knew where it was right now I'd find a way to return it to him. Last I saw it, it was in my dad's garage in the house I grew up in. When my dad moved, he donated all the stuff in the garage. So I lost a guy's bed. Sad? I don't know. I just think it's odd.