Free Story of My Life by Jay McInerney Page A

my watch and it’s two-thirty and I say, ditto, I’ve got class, I’ve got to get some sleep.
    Nobody’s leaving, Didi screams. No fair. I’ve been sharing all my blow with you and now you’re just going to leave me all alone when I’m a shivering wreck. No fair. You all have to stay for a while and help me come down.
    Actually, come to think of it, I couldn’t sleep now anyway. I’m kind of a shivering wreck myself. I’ve been pacing the room for the last ten minutes and sucking down cigarettes and my heart’s thumping like a fat girl on a trampoline.
    Didi dumps out some more blow. Two more lines for everybody and then we’ll take some Valium, she says.
    I don’t want the lines, I go. I just want the Valium.
    No way, she says. Two lines for everybody. Including Francesca. House rules. And one more round of Truth or Dare. My turn. I earned my question.
    Francesca goes, it’s your party and you’ll whine if you want to, and we all crack up.
    Didi hoovers a monster line and then passes the mirror. She says, my turn to ask, shut up everybody. She turns back to Dean. He takes truth. She goes, two-part question. On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate my body and how would you rate Alison’s body?
    I’m like, you bitch, Didi. I’m going to kill you one of these days.
    Dean looks like he’s hoping for nuclear war to break out in the next thirty seconds.
    Truth, says Didi.
    Can I take the dare? Dean asks.
    Nobody wants to see your body, Didi says.
    I wouldn’t mind, says Francesca, and Jeannie, who’s trying to get her nostrils to work, says, me neither.
    Rules are rules, says Didi. Truth.
    Dean looks back and forth between us and finally he says, I’d give you both a nine and a half.
    Give me a break, says Francesca.
    Diplomacy is strictly against the rules, Didi goes.
    So then the phone rings.
    Dean jumps for it. Someone named Rebecca, he goes, wants to talk to either Alison or Didi.
    I’m like, now what?
    Rebecca says, Alison, is that you? Listen, you gotta help me. I need to get five hundred dollars quick or I’m going to get sliced up with a knife.

5
Care of the Social Fabric
     
    So we’re lying in Dean’s bed, finally coming down on the Valium, but still grinding our teeth because they were only the five-milligram and Didi only gave us two. Semishivering. It’s been one of those nights. I’m just beginning to really hate myself because I know I’m not going to be in any shape to go to class tomorrow and Dean’s got to be at work in a couple of hours, poor guy, but then I think, well, we were saving Rebecca’s life, right? It was a special occasion. It’s not like I was just partying till dawn.
    Suddenly Dean goes, are you mad at me?
    And I go, about what?
    And he goes, about daring Didi to take her clothes off.
    I don’t know, I say. Should I be? Do you want to sleep with her?
    No, he says, I don’t.
    Truth, I say.
    Really, he says. I don’t. She’s too weird. I can’t imagine it. She’s a harpy disguised as an angel.
    That’s exactly how he talks, I kid you not.
    But you liked her body, I go.
    Well, yeah, he says, I did. Can you understand that?
    I’m not mad at you for that, I tell him. But I am mad at you for lying.
    When did I lie? he says. He sits up in bed and looks at me with these big puppy eyes. He
is
cute. I wish I didn’t have this stupid infection—I’m almost cooled out enough to have sex.
    You lied, I say, when you rated my body the same as Didi’s.
    That wasn’t a lie, he says, but he turns his eyes away from me when he says it.
    Come on, I go, can you honestly sit there and tell me you think my body’s as good as hers?
    Sure, he whines. Jesus, you’ve got an incredible body.
    I say, but not as incredible as hers.
    Better, he goes.
    I’m like, now I’m really getting pissed.
    What did I do? he goes.
    You’re not being honest, I say. You’re thinking one thing and saying another.
    Not necessarily, he says.
    Yes necessarily, I tell him.
    In my experience