Page 71 of Guy's Girl
Adrian doesn’t answer. He pushes past Finch and into the crowd.
The bathrooms are all the way at the other end of the room. When Adrian finally elbows his way over, he finds a long, black hallway lined with single-stall doors. Two are occupied. Two are not. He begins to wonder why he came over here. What is he going to do, bang on the door of a stranger’s stall and hope it’s Ginny? And to what end? She doesn’t need a babysitter.
He sighs. While he’s here, he might as well pee. He walks over to one of the doors and pushes it open.
Which is how he finds Ginny on her knees, bent over the toilet, fingers down her throat.
Adrian freezes. His hand slips on the knob. He sputters, “Wh—what the hell are you doing?”
Ginny looks up. Her eyes are glassy and bloodshot. Vomit trickles out one corner of her mouth, lumpy and cream colored—the remnants of a chimney cake.
For a long moment, they stare at each other. Several emotions cross Ginny’s face at once: surprise, terror, confusion. Adrian expects her to yell, to tell him to get the fuck out.
Instead, she crumples up into a ball and starts to cry.
Adrian steps forward. The door swings shut and he pauses to lock it. Then he falls to his knees and scoops Ginny up into his arms. She’s so tiny. Her body folds up onto his lap like a rag doll.
Her sobs come in heaves. Her face falls into his shoulder, her chest onto his. Great shudders accompany each gasp. They grow louder and louder as she gives into the sadness and lets it take over her entire body. She quivers in his arms, a bundle of skin and bones, far too breakable. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak. He’s afraid that, if he does, she will coil back into herself and disappear forever.
Adrian doesn’t know how long they stay like this. It could be five minutes. It could be twenty. After a time, Ginny’s sobs subside enough for her to lean back and look him in the eye. Her face is puffy and red.
“Elvágyódás,” she whispers.
“What?” Adrian leans in, thinking he’s misheard.
“Elvágyódás. Elvágyódás.” Her voice cracks. “Please. I can’t go back in there. I can’t be around him anymore.”
Adrian doesn’t need her to clarify to whom she is referring. He reaches over to the toilet paper roll and pulls off a few sheets. He crumples them up, using the wad to dab the vomit off Ginny’schin. Then he stands, keeping her bundled up in his arms, tosses the wad into the toilet, and unlocks the bathroom door.
Surely the crowd is difficult to push through. Surely Adrian and Ginny receive confused stares and annoyed elbows. But Adrian notices none of it. He moves with a singular purpose, a ship plowing through the ocean, focused only on holding tight to the woman in his arms.
When he reaches the bar, the boys look up, ready to shout a greeting. Then they see Ginny. Confusion crosses their faces, then alarm.
“Ginny?” Finch’s voice rises. “What the hell? Is she okay?”
“She’s fine.” Adrian looks past him, straight to Clay and Tristan. “I’m taking her to my grandparents’ place for a few nights. She needs a break from...” He glances over at Finch. “The house. I’ll call you tomorrow to fill you in, okay?”
Clay and Tristan glance at each other. Both seem unwilling to look at Finch. Finally, they nod.
Jozsef asks no questions. “I’ll help you get a cab.” He pushes away from the bar, skirts around Adrian, and starts to clear a path to the door.
Outside, Budapest is chilly and bustling. Neon-clothed ravers jostle Adrian as he carries Ginny to the curb. They barely glance at the pair, doubtless assuming she’s just another partier too drunk to walk. Jozsef hurries out into the street and flags down the first empty taxi that drives past. He opens the back door and holds on to its handle as Adrian steps inside, careful to protect Ginny’s head from hitting the top.
“Text me when you make it home,” says Jozsef. He seems completely sober now.
Adrian nods. Then Jozsef shuts the door and the cab rumbles forward, Ginny still huddled up on Adrian’s lap, her body trembling like a child faced with daylight for the very first time.
PartIV
How did I get here?
Ginny wakes to find herself in a warm, yellow-painted bedroom. The sheets are clean. A handwoven quilt drapes over the end. In one corner of the room is a fluffy white rocking chair. In another, a light blue armoire with a mirror hanging above. She sits up. In the mirror, she sees a scared girl with choppy blond hair. It takes her a moment to register that girl as herself.
Out the window, she sees a line of houses: one yellow, one blue, one red, all so bright they seemed to be yelling. Paper lamps hang across the street. Everyone outside looks happy.
It’s then that she realizes she is at Adrian’s grandparents’ house.
Her theory is confirmed after she slips out of bed and pads over to the armoire, where she finds a framed photograph of Adrian with two women—one young, one old—whom she can only assume to be his immediate family.
