Goodbye, Summertime Girl.

He waves. His smile is unsure, questioning my identity just as I question his. It's a bond of confusion that we both share. Complication is afoot. I'm not really sure if I want to see anyone right now. No, I know that I don't. All I want is security, which Ryland is capable of giving me at the moment. I don't need to meet anyone new. I don't want to be home. I just want to sleep.

The smell of coffee brewing can be smelt from the kitchen.

That vomit in my throat is more present than ever.

"Hey, Meribeth," Ryland says, "this is Alex. He's going to be staying here for..."

He trails off, his facial expression changing from one of tired happiness to uncertainty and worry. He takes a few steps toward me. His eyebrows furrow together.

"Are you alright?" he asks. "You look really pale."

I look from him to his friend, the one he calls Alex. He's staring at me, too. It's making me uncomfortable.

He runs a hand through his hair and his eyes are staring right at me. It's getting under my skin. It's getting to me. I wonder what he's thinking. I wonder why he's even here; he must be one of Ryland's friends, but I've never met him before. I'm starting to contemplate why I even care, because he's just a guy. I mean, he's just one of Ryland's friends. And that's all, he isn't anything more than that. Why do I care so much? Why is it such a big deal to me all of the sudden, the answers to these questions? I don't even know myself.

"I'm fine," I say.

But right then, I don't think I am. I'm not fine. My stomach is lurching around inside of me and my heart is racing uncontrollably. And that vomit is creeping up my throat faster than before.

My hands land around my stomach, and I begin to hunch over. It's something inside me that's doing this, and I can't help it.

"Ugh," I moan.

I get up and, in an instant, I am running toward the bathroom. I shove the door open and flip on the light. I fall on my knees. The tile floor is cold and hard, and it hurts my knees when I fall.

My hands grip the ceramic rim of the toilet bowl. My jaw goes limp. I'm dry heaving. My stomach lurches. I think I'm going to be sick. I think I'm going to let everything go and just fall asleep. I want to pass out. I want my world to go black already, and to let me slip into darkness. Nothing feels better when you can do anything about the hurt.

And, just like I thought that it would, the vomit's creeping finally takes on complete mobility and surfaces. My hold on the toilet bowl tightens. Everything pours out. Everything from tonight that I haven't said, everything I've heard, everything I felt when I first saw Alex. It all just rose and fell, from my throat to the bowl. My insides burst. My head is splitting. My whole body feels weak.

"Hey," I hear Ryland say. He sounds as if he's hovering over me. I piece together the scenario: he's holding back my hair for me and rubbing my back. He's trying to comfort me. "You're gonna be fine," he says.

My head hurts so fucking much, I can hardly remember to breathe. I can smell the substance emitting from the bowl. It's horrible. I throw up again. My gut wrenches.

God, I feel like sobbing. I feel so unlike myself tonight. It's like it'll never end. I just want it all to be over with. But I don't want to disappear.

Instead, I want to thank Ryland for being here for me. I'm sure that he can smell the mess just as strong as I can. He puts on a brave face; it smells like raw food and sewage. I feel it coming up again. My mouth and nostrils are on fire. It hurts to see. I want to move. But I can't.

I can feel another presence in the room with us now. I know who it is, but I don't want to believe it. I don't even want to think about it. I'm so damn embarrassed. My face heats up. It feels almost as hot as my throat.

Oh, I think, just leave. Just leave me alone to do this. I don't want anyone to see me like this.

I don't even want Ryland to see me all sick and vile. I'm disgusting. No one should be put through it unless they're forced to against their will.

"Is she alright?" he asks.

Ryland doesn't say anything right at first. I don't blame him; I probably look like hell. I sure do feel like it.

"She'll be okay," he says.

I don't know why I believe him, but I do.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to," Ryland says to him. He keeps rubbing my back and adjusts his hold on my hair. "Don't worry about it."

I'm breathing heavily. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Alex. He looks right at me and holds my eyes for a second before looking away.

He doesn't move.

Unlike me, he can move. I don't have a choice, but he does. He can leave and save himself the trouble I'm already putting Ryland through. And he doesn't even know me.

But that doesn't matter.

He isn't moving.

I let it out again. It's the last time it comes out, and I know it as soon as it's done, but it's right then that I finally start to change. The night's events have forced me into this sick state of helplessness. I can't do a damn thing about my situation.

The dry heaving stops. I'm all out of breath. Being weak is one of the worst feelings I've known.

I feel empty.

"It's all gone," I say quietly. "I'm done."

Ryland pats me on my back, then takes my hand and helps me up off the cold tile; it left grooves on my knees, and I can feel their indentations in my skin. I'm sore all over. My body is so fucking weak right now.

He lets go of my hand and says, "You can have the bed tonight. I'll stay on the couch, so will Alex." He starts walking off toward his bedroom and assumes that I will follow, that I am following him.

But that's just the thing: I don't. My head feels dizzy, like I'm about to fall over or something. My body starts wobbling. I'm shaking.

"Hey, hey!" I hear Alex shout.

I haven't heard him speak until now. I haven't heard his voice until right then, when he catches me in his arms. He smells like sleep. I hope that it rubs off on me.

I can hear Ryland rush back into the room. "Jesus Christ, Meribeth," he says, "what happened to you?"

My eyes are half shut. I'm starting to catch up with that sleep I'm craving. I'm tired. I want to sleep. I want to curl up in Ryland's bed and just doze off.

I bet I smell like shit. My breath is probably so fucking nasty.

"I'll help you in there," Ryland says, then starts toward me.

"No, no," Alex says. His voice is light. My ears are ringing. "It's fine, I've got her."

And as he's carrying me into the bedroom, and as he's lifting me up into the bed, I can't even take advantage of the situation. I'm not even paying attention to all of this attention this guy is giving me. He's so careful with me. But I don't realize it until I'm asleep, and in the morning, I can't hardly remember anything at all.

He covers me up.

"There," he says. "Try and go to sleep."

And he doesn't even know me.

But it doesn't even matter.