Page 40 of Drowning Erin
Erin
Present
Idiscovermultiple missed calls from both Rob and Timothy after I get home from Boulder. I can’t say I really want to talk to either ofthem.
“Where were you?” Rob demands. “I called your cell. I even called your office, and they said you were homesick.”
I tell him about Brendan’s mom. He’s known Dorothy most of his life, so I assume his silence when I’m done is simplyshock.
“Are you telling me,” he finally says, “thatyou, of all people, took a day of sick leave to comfortBrendan?”
“Are you serious right now?” I ask. “I just told you a woman you’ve known since you were 13 has cancer, and your concern is my use ofsick leave? You’re not even going to ask me how sheis?”
“Of course I want to know how she is. I also want to know what the hell is going on, because when we talk on the phone, it’s like I don’t even knowyou.”
“Yeah, Rob, that makes sense,” I reply as I hang up. “I’m pretty sure youdon’t.”
* * *
When I getto the office on Monday, there’s an ominous Post-it from Timothy on my computer that readsSee me. Immediately. I imagine telling Olivia all about this later—the inevitable dressing down I’m about to receive for taking one damn day off. And I know she’ll be appalled—not by Timothy but byme, by the way I’ll take all of the bullshit I’m about to receive lyingdown.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask as I enter hisoffice.
He continues to look at something on his computer for a few seconds, pretending to work when we both know his entire job involves shufflingmywork out to the university and acting like he was somehow instrumental in itscreation.
Finally, he turns to me. “We need to talk about what happened onFriday.”
“I took sick leave,” I tell him. “Because I wassick.”
“And you didn’t return any of mycalls.”
“Yes because, I repeat, I wassick.”
“I needed that brochure mock-up for the chancellor’s office Friday afternoon, and I had to show up empty-handed,” he says. “I’m writing you up forinsubordination.”
I’ve had it. Timothy lives in constant fear of discovery as a fraud. Let him dig his own grave withthis.
“Good,” I say flatly. “Write meup.”
He blinks. “You must not understand what the wordinsubordinatemeans.”
“I know what it means. I’m saying good because I welcome the opportunity to go to Human Resources and explain that you’ve written me up for not returning your calls during my second day of sick leave in fouryears.”
I’m a little impressed with myself. My hands are shaking with anger, but I sound calm, bored almost—like Olivia might, but without the potential assaultcharge.
“Are you threatening me?” heasks.
“No, I’m just informing you of the logical course of action anyone would take under thesecircumstances.”
He does his best to look scary, glaring at me and sitting bolt upright. But for some reason, I’m not that scared. He’s just a little man, the kind who bullies children because he knows he can’t scare anyone else, and I am not a child. In fact, it occurs to me that I’ve been the adult in this situation for years, and maybe it’s time someone other than me realizesit.
31
Erin
Present
Eventually Rob calls again,and I force myself to pick up. We both apologize, but neither of us sounds sorry. There’s a forced civility to our conversations now, as if they are held between two warring countries negotiating a treaty. It’s a relief to hang up the phone. I do my best not to examine that tooclosely.