It took me a moment to orient myself; I vaguely remembered the conversations with Walton and Dick, the shots of whiskey, the vomiting, the sleeping in the car and the subsequent walk to the cabin. Having become accustomed to the backseat of a car, the pull-out couch was a vast improvement, but I felt extremely dehydrated and desperately needed something to drink. I couldn’t find my jeans on the floor, so I decided to carry on without them—the kitchen was only a few steps away anyway. After checking two of the cabinets, I eventually found a stack of green plastic cups and poured myself a glass of tap water. Then another one. And another. As I was exhaling in relief, standing in the middle of the kitchen holding a cup of water and wearing nothing but my underwear, Sandy walked into the room. She gasped, clutched her chest and nearly jumped out of her morning gown. “Jesus Christ!” she cried. I finished my sip before answering. “Walton told me I could stay here for the night,”
