"I'll walk you back," Gary said, when Linda told him she was leaving.
As they walked in the cool, late summer night, Gary told her about his apartment and his engineering courses. Linda continued their discussion from the kitchen of Lauren's apartment. "It's just not true that I never take any chances or risks," she said. She told Gary all about her volunteer job at the Oncology Outpatient Center, and how they'd wanted someone older.
"But they gave me a chance, and I showed them I could do it." Cindy's face came to mind, the memory still as crystal-clear as ever.
When they reached the circle drive in front of Bartholomew Hall, Gary looked up at the building and said "So, do you think you'll be moving out of there, then?"
"No," she replied. "I think I'm supposed to be there. But I might get a job."
The next day, Sunday, she knew that Lauren and her friends would need help with their apartment. After breakfast at the cafeteria, she walked over there. As she approached their building, she already saw plastic beer cups still strewn on the grass, the sidewalks, and the driveways. She shuddered when she thought about what might await inside Lauren's apartment.
They had a doorbell and a peephole. Linda rang the doorbell and stood waiting for several minutes. It had been nine-fifteen when she left the dining hall. She wondered if they had all gotten up and gone to church or something. The doorknob then clicked and wobbled, as if someone on the other side was clumsily trying to turn it. The door soon opened just a crack.
She saw Marie's sleepy eyes and tousled hair. "Lauren's still asleep," she croaked.
"I thought you guys could use some help cleaning up."
Marie pushed the door open wider and her eyebrows lifted. "Okay," she said. "But don't hurt yourself."
Linda thought it was a strange thing to say until Marie pushed the door all the way open and she took her first few steps inside. The smell hit her first: their apartment smelled like a bar that had sailed through three weeks of happy hours. Both kegs, lighter now, floated around in the tubs, bobbing up and down. The carpet squished in places as she walked gingerly toward the kitchen. She didn't know if she was stepping in spilled beer or if the carpets had been saturated from water spilling over from the keg tubs.
Strange men lay on the couches surrounding the coffee table in the living room. A red-haired girl also lay on the floor, her head resting on a few rolled up jackets. Empty plastic cups had been strewn everywhere, and orange cheese puffs and potato chip crumbs littered every table and countertop. A pile of dishes smeared with ketchup and mustard had been stacked in the sink.