Waltz of Her Life

When it was over, he tossed the empty beer can onto the ground and chuckled victoriously. From a nursing student's point of view, Linda predicted that several of the guys and one or two of the girls would wind up worshiping the porcelain god. A short while later, she heard the unmistakable retching and coughing sounds in the bushes outside the window, followed by a splattering sound.

Linda moved away from the window and inched her way through the crowd toward the kitchen, where a few people stood. She figured that most people about ready to toss their cookies would have the decency to head for the bathroom or at least go outside. To keep occupied she gathered partially empty or empty cups and tossed them into the steel garbage can Lauren had hauled in from outside the building.

A tall guy with a round face and eyes that disappeared when he smiled tried to talk to her.

"So how do you know Lauren and Marie?" he asked.

Lauren passed by that very moment, moving from the back door toward the living room, on wobbly legs, her eyes glassy and bloodshot. She put an arm around Linda and looked up at the tall guy. "Don't listen to a word this bitch says, Gary" Lauren slurred. "She's a liar."

Linda looked up and answered Gary's question. "We were roommates last year." Meanwhile, she held Lauren steady, to keep her from falling face first into the dining room table.

Gary nodded. "You mean you lived here, and then you moved out?"

"No, we lived in the dorms. At Essex Hall."

Lauren started to giggle. "And do you believe, she still lives there? She could have moved here and she stayed in the dorms instead."

"Well I did go to Bartholomew. I decided to be safe," she explained.

Gary looked around at the party, the nice stereo and television, the kitchen with a dishwasher, and the separate bedrooms upstairs. "It looks like it would be much funner to live here."

Lauren said "Of course it is. But we couldn't get her to move. She's never adventurous, never takes a risk. Now she's living in Bartholomew with some hypochondriac Jewish chick."

Linda backed away in shock. In a movie she'd seen or a book she'd read someone said "The truth comes out when you're drunk." Her words stung.

She stood toe to toe with teetering Lauren. " I told you I can't afford to live here!"

"Then get a job," Lauren said. Someone else in the living room caught her eye and she stumbled over there. Gary and Linda spoke for a few more minutes before she got tired of the loud music, the stale smell of spilled beer and the odor of vomit drifting into the apartment from the bushes outside.