Chapter 23

After a moment, Jude gave up on standing, crouching down at first and then, at last, sitting in ungainly fashion, the water spattering against his face and chest as he leant against the glass door of the cubicle, his eyes unable to open.

The last time he had been this hungover—he couldn’t remember clearly, maybe at his cousin’s wedding? The water felt good though; the pressure and the warmth gave him something else to feel other than awful. And so, for the longest moment, he just sat there, sitting on the tiles, trying not to think about how he’d have to go pick up the truck from outside the Rusty Cage, or how far wrong he’d gone by Charlie.

Maybe it would quieten down, he thought. Maybe if he just gave it time, everything would quieten down—and as soon as he thought this, he knew that it would not, and felt ashamed for thinking it might.

He lifted his head, leaning back against the wall, eyes closed.