She raised her head slightly and then it bit her. A wave of nausea flooded her whole body. She felt warm, dizzy and weak, totally unable to fight the sickening feeling that was taking over her body and her mind. She braced herself on the small table where the others were waiting for their portions and staggered unaided over to the sink and threw up. When she felt as though the very lining of her stomach was in her throat she sat down and put her head between her knees, hoping that the nausea would pass. She sat there for several minutes letting the quivering feeling pass and then she felt high, light and wonderfully happy. She lay on the cool linoleum floor for a while and then slowly got up and wandered as though in a trance into the living room and dropped down on a cushion.

She could hear the conversations going on around her, but she took no notice of them. She was completely content to be alone with her thoughts and feeling of supreme bliss. Time ceased to exist and she had no idea how many hours had passed when she finally went to sleep.

She woke up when someone shook her shoulder. She groaned and looked up to see Al standing over saying, "Come on, time to go home."

"For God's sake, Al, I'll go home when Frankie does," she said.

"He's already gone," he said, pulling her up by the shoulders.

"What," she moaned, "when?"

"He left several hours ago with that chick," he said. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Cynthia looked at him, disbelief in her eyes. Frankie had never left her before and gone off with another woman when she was around. Pangs of jealousy twisted inside her and for a moment she was afraid she would be sick again.

Feeling numb, she silently followed Al and waited while he found their coats. Although there were still quite a few people scattered throughout the apartment, Shoo-Fly was nowhere in sight.

It was just beginning to get light when they walked outside into the cold winter weather.