to push it open.

I thought, What idiot got so wasted

they passed out on our bathroom floor?

And probably puked all over

Mom's favorite guest towels,

and we'll have to clean it up,

and I swear to God,

this is the last party

we'll ever have."

He shakes the Pepsi can,

the cigarette butt rattling

staccato.

"So the door finally opens,

and there's no puke,

no blood,

no nothing.

Just him.

Clean and dead."

I remember watching Mickey

drag my body into the hall,

start CPR with Siobhan.

No matter how much they pressed

and breathed

and cried

and cursed

and screeeeeeeeamed,

I couldn't come back.

"I'm sorry."

Krista repeats my words.

"Who's sorry?" Mickey asks her.

"You or him?"

"When I speak for myself,

I'll hold up my hand."

She makes a Boy-Scouty gesture,

then lowers her hand.