Full Circle. Michael Thomas Ford

don’t know how many times we came, or if we even came at all. At some point, I fell asleep, and when I woke up, it was with Andy on one side and Jack on the other. My head aching, I looked around the room and saw half a dozen other naked, snoring bodies scattered in various poses on the mattresses. The lava lamps continued to bubble, and somewhere nearby a record needle unable to lift itself from the final groove of an album repeatedly voiced its distress.

      It took me a few minutes to remember where I was and what had happened. When I did, I wished I hadn’t. I looked at Andy. His Wolfman hat had fallen off and was lying beside the mattress along with my vest, chaps, hat, and spurs. His face and chest were smeared with the greasepaint Jack and I had used to draw on our facial hair. Jack’s costume was at the foot of the mattress, apparently where he’d taken it off. My ass hurt, and my nipples were raw.

      I carefully stood up and tiptoed around the sleepers into the hall. Trying not to make any noise, I searched for the bathroom, which I found I badly needed. Fortunately, it was nearby. I went in, shut the door, and pissed forcefully and long into the toilet. Afterward, I looked at myself in the mirror over the sink. My makeup was smeared, making me look bruised, and there were two huge hickeys on my neck, one on either side, as if I had been the victim of twin vampires. I ran the water in the sink and cleaned myself up with a washcloth borrowed from the bathroom’s owner. Feeling marginally better, I walked back to the room with the mattresses and retrieved my clothes.

      As I was dressing, Jack woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he looked around and asked, “What happened?”

      I couldn’t think of a good answer to that, so I said nothing. Jack sat up, looked over at Andy, and then back at me. “You okay?” he asked, perhaps beginning to remember.

      “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”

      Jack nodded.

      “I’ll be outside,” I said, gathering up my costume and standing.

      I went downstairs, where more sleeping bodies filled the couches and even some spots on the floor. Outside, I breathed in the fresh air of a bright, clear All Saints’ Day and felt not the least bit better. My head was still cloudy, and the events of the previous night shrouded in mysteries I was almost sure would never be fully revealed. But one thing I knew for sure—things between Jack, Andy, and myself could never be the same again.