I decided I didn’t know what the heck to do.

2

I got out of bed that morning, and I shaved and took a bath, even if it was only Monday and I’d washed real good the Saturday before. Then, I put on my Sunday go-to-meetin’ clothes, my new sixty-dollar Stetson and my seventy-dollar Justin boots and my four-dollar Levis. I stood in front of the mirror, checking myself over real good; making sure that I didn’t look like some old country boy. Because I was making a little trip to see a friend of mine. I was going to see Ken Lacey and get his advice about my problems. And I always try to look my best when I see Ken Lacey.

I had to pass Myra’s bedroom on the way downstairs, and she had her door open to catch the breeze, and without realizing that I was doing it, I stopped and looked in. Then I went in and looked at her some more. And then leased toward the bed on tippy-toe and stood looking down at her, kind of licking my lips and feeling itchy.

I’ll tell you something about me. I’ll tell you for true. That’s ‘one’ thing I never had no shortage of. I was hardly out of my shift—just a barefooted kid with my first pair of boughten britches—when the gals started flinging it at me. And the older I got, the more of ‘em there were. I’d say to myself sometimes, “Nick,” I’d say, “Nick Corey, you’d better do something about these gals. You better start carrying you a switch and whip ‘em off of you, or they’ll do you to death.” But I never did do nothing like that, because I just never could bear to hurt a gal. A gal cries at me a little, and right away I’m giving in to her.

Well, though, to get back to the subject, I never had no shortage of women and they were all real generous with me. Which maybe don’t seem to add up, the way I was staring at my wife, Myra. Licking my lips and feeling itchy all over. Because Myra was quite a bit older than I was and she looked every bit as mean as she was. And believe me, she was one danged mean woman. But the way it is with me, I’m kind of singleminded, I get to thinking about something, and I can’t think of anything else. And maybe I wasn’t suffering any shortage, but you know how that is. I mean, it’s kind of like eating popcorn. The more you have the more you want.

She didn’t have a nightdress on, it being summer, and she’d kicked the sheet off. And she was kind of lying on her stomach, so that I couldn’t see her face, which made her look a lot better.

So I stood there, staring and steaming and itching, and finally I couldn’t stand it no longer and I started unbuttoning my shirt. “After all, Nick,” I says to myself, “after all, Nick Corey, this here woman is your wife, and you got certain rights.”