Simon N. Garfunkle's America
an excerpt

From: Part 3: 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover
With special thanks to Paul Simon...my inspiration...you'll get why if you keep reading...I'm a big fan, please don't sue me.

“What made her leave him?” I asked.
“She doesn’t ever really talk about it,” Jerry replied. "The whole thing seems kind of strange.”
“It is somewhat troubling.”
“The trouble is all inside your head,” she said to me, coming through the screen door behind me. Jerry and I both jumped and turned around, stammering. “It’s good to know that my problems can be a source of amusement for the two of you.”
“You wouldn’t tell him anything about yourself,” Jerry said in our defense. “He’s been by your side for three days now, he deserves to know the truth.”
“Whatever,” she sighed, pouring herself a glass of the scotch. “Suzie’s asleep.”
Jerry was right, but Kathy wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. I began to feel as though if I were to be staying around, if I wanted to be kept around, that maybe it would be prudent of me to offer a bit more of myself in return. It was a good thought, but there was a problem with it: some of my secret I was trying to keep even from myself.
“I asked a girl to marry me once,” I offered. I had begun to feel the effects of the scotch taking hold. “It was the summer after my second year of college.”
“What happened?” Jerry asked.
I laughed in spite of the pain I felt inside. “I walked off to look for America, what do you think happened.”
“Bummer.”
“It was probably for the best. If she had said yes, I would have missed out on so many experiences, I would have missed so many sights, I never would have met the two of you or Suzie. You can hardly expect a twenty-year old kid to know what he wants in life.”
“You knew you wanted to wander the country seeing all you could see,” Kathy interjected.
“People run for various reasons,” I explained. “Anyways, a lot of people like to go backpacking around Europe for a year before they enter college. I got a late start, and extended the trip somewhat.”
“The way I see it,” Kathy observed, also obviously feeling the scotch, “you don’t want to know what you want. You’re just going to wander aimlessly through life until you realize that you were running from what you want the whole time and that it’s too late to try to get it.”
“The problem with that is that I know what I want and I’m not about to let it slip through my fingers. Not this time.”
Jerry looked from me to Kathy, then back to me. “You know, I’ve got to go to work in the morning. I’m going to let the two of you figure this out.”
I watched Jerry walk away then refilled my glass. After taking a swig I blurted, “The answer is simple if you take it logically.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’d like to help you with your struggle to get free.”
“I still don’t follow.”
“There must be fifty ways to leave your lover.”
Kathy finished her drink and I handed her the bottle, keeping my grip on it even after she held it too. I leaned in and so did she. It felt like we were moving in slow motion. At the last possible moment, she turned away again. I let go of the bottle and we separated.
“I think we both should just sleep on this tonight,” she offered. “And maybe in the morning we will begin to see the light.”
“Yeah, i guess you probably are right,” I told her, meaning not a word of it. No amount of sleep or alcohol, or lack there of, would change my mind: she was what I wanted and I was not going to let her slip through my fingers. At some point in my life, I would get what I wanted. I wanted some more scotch.
“How’s ‘bout we pass the bottle back over?” I demanded, belligerently. We both got drunk that night. There have been times in my life that I have been absolutely out of it, but that night was one of the worst. I know we spent the next few hours talking, or possibly even arguing, about something, but for the life of me I can’t begin to remember what happened. All I know is that I woke up fully dressed and alone in the grass in the backyard at sunrise. At that point, I stumbled into the house and collapsed on the couch. It was not a high point in my life. Nor was what happened next.