14
I wake to the sound of tapping on my door.
Did I fall asleep? No, impossible. I only closed my eyes for a second. I check the clock on the bedside cabinet: 9:40 P.M.
I rub my eyes, the effects of the alcohol seemingly much worse, and then swing my legs off the bed and onto the carpet.
There’s another tap on the door.
“Come in,” I say, croakily. I cough hard to clear my throat.
The door opens, and Thea is standing in the doorway; her eyes and lips red and puffy. The girl’s been crying her heart out. A sudden wash of guilt comes over me. Did I overreact?
No, of course I didn’t.
Thea steps inside the room, the corners of her lips hanging low. I think she’s about to cry again. “Come here,” I say, holding out my arms. She bursts into tears and rushes over to me. I hug her tightly as
