I wake up several hours later on a narrow bed in a cramped and filthy apartment. I’m reminded of the crash pads of some of Luke’s dirtbag friends in Ketchum: flats strewn with remnants of food and unwashed clothing that would only be tolerable to men under twenty-five and people with some kind of disorder. I’m sandwiched between Alberto and Santiago, and if anything I’m more uncertain who is who. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s still dark out. I realize with mounting horror—I’m still drunk but not enough to blot out my circumstances—that I’m naked, as are the boys next to me. And god, they’re boys, I realize, looking at their sleeping baby faces. Jesus. I carefully search for my clothes and get dressed. Thankfully the two of them are out cold. Relief washes over me as soon as I’m on the other side of their door, out on the street. It’s quiet so it must be very early. My mind is racing; the only saving grace is that I’m reasonably sure that everyone was too drunk for much more than a lot of messy fondling. I let myself laugh a little at the idea of them waking up next to each other.

As I make my way back to my apartment, exhaustion hits me and anxiety begins to creep in; darkness crowds the edges of my consciousness. I wait too long to take the pill and find myself curled in a ball on the floor of my small bathroom—it must be nearing morning but I’m divorced from time. Some part of me knows that all I need to do is stand up and go get the Ativan that’s in a bottle on my nightstand. But crossing the tiny apartment feels like an insurmountable task. My breath is short and my throat is freezing cold, my chest in knots, my heart pounding, racing to keep up with the cycle of thoughts in my mind: What are you doing here? Why did you come? You should be training. You gave up your dream. You’ve abandoned your parents. You failed Penny. Nothing will ever be right again. You will feel exactly like this forever. You are beyond redemption. You’re a slut. You’re worthless.

Finally the attack wears itself out and I’m able to drag myself up and over to my bed. I take an Ativan, not because it will help but because it will knock me out, and I can’t bear to be conscious another second. As I drift off to sleep, I see the waxing blue light of the morning inching its way along the edges of my blinds. The first day of 2010 is dawning.

Penny’s Hair

THE BALD patches on Penny’s pretty head began appearing early in the second semester of her junior year.