And I can’t believe what comes next. They play Workingman’s Dead, my favorite Grateful Dead album, right through, doing all the Garcia and Hunter melodies. The tickle of the first notes of “Uncle John’s Band” makes me cry a little. Then Rose and I sway and sing along to “High Time.” Grover buys me a bourbon. “A proper American drink with proper American music,” he says. And somehow I find myself on stage sharing Suzie Q’s microphone, singing the chorus to “Dire Wolf.” Because it’s so good, and they’re all coaxing me, and how can you resist when the time comes, and you’ve had some beers, how can you not get up and belt your best?

This is the best party I’ve ever been to. Nick must have fucked off home, and it feels sublime being here. I’ve never been popular before, and tonight it’s easy to pretend I really am.

Peeing again. Peeing. Is. Excellent. It’s the only thing that involves water that actually feels good. It even sounds good, when the stream hits the side, and you can push it out really hard, and when you’ve been drinking it goes on forever, which is wonderful.

Except Jason isn’t at the party. He should be here. Everybody loves Jason and Jason loves me. Maybe I’ll send him a text, except my phone isn’t in my pocket. I look around and I can’t find it, even though it’s suddenly really bright and I’m all alone.

Then someone knocks on the door. I’m still in the bathroom.

Great. Now I need to puke. If I breathe hard I’ll be able to get some fresh air into my stomach and that’ll calm things down. But I have to leave because someone else needs to get in here.

I don’t have to puke. I’m fine.

My phone’s on the table. No missed calls, no messages. But it’s fine because all of my friends are here. Except . . . where’s Rose? I can’t see her. I get up and look around the bar. I can’t make out anyone’s face very well. Just shapes, like we’ve all broken up into symbols. I take a sip of beer to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.

I’m standing up. What was I doing? Oh, yeah, looking for Rose. She doesn’t smoke, but maybe she’s outside getting some air. It’s really hot. I’m trying to figure out my feet, how I’ll step between the chairs and people without stepping on anyone or knocking anything over or falling down. But Helen and Nancy sidle up on each side of me.

“Did all your birthday wishes come true?” Helen whisper-shouts into my ear.