Chapter 13“My roommate keeps calling me snakeshit, and this morning I feel like it. I was hung over all day yesterday and I’m still hung over,” I moaned with my head in my hands that Monday morning in the side dining room at Lentz. “I really went into a black hole Saturday! What a cartoon!”
Nibbling on a shredded wheat biscuit, Marta stared at me over an early, pre-algebra breakfast at an isolated cafeteria table overlooking the lake.
“It was as if all of the years I’ve lived after 20 were erased from my memory,” I said. “From the time I saw Catherine with Dickey until after I woke up for the first time in jail. It was like I once again had a 20-year-old mind—a screwed-up 20-year-old mind.”
“It was probably the alcohol,” said Marta as a few biscuit crumbs fell on her dress. “Alcoh
