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“I hafta meet the girls in the bar,” she explains, pulling on her shorts.
“Do you have to go now?” I touch the bony xylophone of her spine and she moves away.
“I need to shower first.”
I pull the sheets up to my neck and watch her dress. “Maybe I’ll see you later,” she says. An afterthought. Like when you sign somebody’s yearbook See you this summer.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say.
She opens the door. Light bleeds in from the hall. Then she’s gone and the room is dark and empty.
It’s after midnight, but I can’t sleep. I’ve got night sweats. The sheets are drenched and a little pool of perspiration gathers in the hollow of my throat.
Dulcie’s leaning over me. Her face is a small, glowing nightlight in the dark. “Hey, cowboy. You don’t look so good.”
“Can’t breathe.”
“Yes you can. You’re just having a bad dream. Relax.”
I try to take a deep breath, but it’s like there’s a Goddamn elephant on my chest, and my muscles are doing their twitch-and-spaz disco routine. For a minute, I hear Glory saying, “Relax, baby. Just need your blood pressure.”
“I can’t sleep,” I say.
I hear sounds. Beep. Whirr. Muffled voices. I don’t see Gonzo. The bed next to me is empty. Glory’s holding my wrist, checking my pulse, a frown one more line on her face. When she’s through, she wipes my brow with a washcloth.
“Sweet boy. Get some rest.” She clicks the bolus, giving me a new bump of morphine.
“Glory, I can’t go to sleep. I’m afraid I’ll die.”
She gives it another click, and my body feels light as goose down.
“Cameron, wake up. It’s Dulcie.”
“Huh?”
I’m back in the hotel room, away from dreams. Dulcie’s stroking my face. “What did you mean, you were afraid you’d die if you went to sleep?”
“I saw Glory. In the hospital.”
“Cam, you’re with me, okay?”
I look around and see that she’s right. The light from the parking lot cuts through the thin curtains in harsh streaks.
“I can’t go to sleep, Dulcie. Now that …” I can’t finish it. Can’t tell her that since I’m no longer a virgin, I’m sure I’ll die.
“How was it?” she asks in a voice soft as a prayer.
“Good.”
“Liar.” Dulcie gives me a small smile, but she looks sad.
Somebody’s puking out in the parking lot. His friends are laughing in a grossed-out way.
“I thought I would feel different.”
“Do you?” Dulcie asks.
Yes. No. I don’t know. I feel emptied. Lost. A little sad. Like I was expecting a package that never arrived. Maybe if I had more time, I could’ve shrugged it off and said, hey, pal, better lay next time. But this was pretty much my one shot, and I blew it. It’s not just the sex, though. It’s the whole damn unfairness of it all. Like I’m just starting to understand how amazing this whole crazy ride is going to be and now it’s coming to the end.
