CHAPTER TWENTY-THREEAn incessant beeping woke me up. I was in bed. My alarm clock read 6:23 a.m. A garbage truck was backing up outside my apartment building. My head felt like it was clogged with Styrofoam. Images of the previous night filtered through the congestion—drinks at Mitchie’s, Rob taking me home, a baseball game, talk about the appeal . . . then nothing.
Then I realized I was clothed only in my T-shirt, bra, and panties. I wondered if I had managed to undress myself or if Rob had helped. My memory of the previous night was practically wiped out. Thank you, alcohol, for killing what’s left of my brain, I thought.
I turned over and tried to go back to sleep, but it was useless. Finally, I rolled out of bed and stumbled into the shower, where I stood under a stream of warm water
