“Brad? Brad, wake up.” I can hear a man, crying. And I hear buzzing. Emily is speaking to me. My head hurts. She’s patting my cheek. She keeps patting my cheek. I want her to stop.
“Stop,” I say.
I open my eyes, pull my head away. Emily Chin is over me, looking down. A man is crying. I can hear a man crying.
“This is about all the excitement I can take for one evening,” Emily says.
“What’s going on?”
“You were out for a while. Here. Can you get up? Stuff is going on, and you’ve got to get into this game.”
She puts her hand under my back, and helps me into a sitting position. My head hurts. The buzzing has stopped. We are in my house, the duplex I share with Emily – me up, her down. The clock says two o’clock. Sunday morning? I think so.
Out on the deck, Bobby Whitehurst is sitting in one of the big lounge chairs, sobbing. My head hurts.
“Why is Bobby crying,” I say. “What happened?”
Emily frowns. “You don’t remember.”
“If I remembered, I wouldn’t be asking.” Continue Reading