“At a party,” I say, pleased that I can remember this. It obviously proves that I’m not drunk, since drunk people have a hard time remembering stuff. And I most definitely was at the party. I had a cup and everything.

“Well that’s just great,” Corey says. “You went to a party and got drunk, and now everyone’s going to see it on TV. Way to be classy, Ally.”

“Wait, you’re pissed? A’cause I went to a party?”

“I’m not pissed,” he says. “I just think you need to understand that there’s a certain way you need to be conducting yourself. And going to strip clubs and getting wasted is not the way to do that.” Jesus. Who does he think he is? He’s always out partying and drinking with his friends. I do it once and all of a sudden I’m a candidate for AA.

“You go out with your friends all the time,” I tell him, suddenly feeling like I’m going to cry. “All the time.” I say it again, to make sure he heard. I take my hand off the end table and put it on my head, which seems to be spinning at a faster rate than the rest of my body. I wish I would stop spinning. It would be ever so much better.

“Ally, I’m not going to have this discussion with you right now,” Corey says firmly. “I have practice at eight in the morning.” He sounds mad, and I feel a panic rising up in my throat, like when you get the feeling that something bad is happening and everyone knows but you. Actually, I don’t know that I’ve had that feeling until right now. Is this what drinking does to you? Make you paranoid? Or is that pot? I think it’s pot. Definitely pot. Drinking is supposed to make you mellow.

“Corey, wait. You’re still coming for Columbus Day, right? To visit?” I start to feel sick to my stomach, and now my body feels like it’s spinning in compartments. My stomach, head, and legs are all spinning at different rates and in different directions.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” Corey says, sounding exasperated.

“Please don’t hang up,” I say, the panic and spinning starting to accelerate. “I need to talk to you. I’m scared. I don’t feel good.”

“Go to bed, Ally,” Corey says. “I’ll call you in the morning.” The line goes dead.

I place the phone back on the table by my bed and all of a sudden I know I’m going to throw up.