Page 48 of Drowning Erin

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Page 48 of Drowning Erin

Brendan’s face hardens. “I find that hard to believetoo.”

He’s the second person I’ve told, and they’ve both assumed Rob is cheating. Do I just know Rob better than they do, or am I incrediblynaïve?

“I guess he’s sleeping with her plenty now,” I say. I attempt to sound cheerful, but it ends on arasp.

He puts an arm around me, and I lean into hisshoulder.

“I’m so fucking sorry,Erin.”

Ihatethat he’s sorry. It’s as if he’s confirming that I have indeed lostsomething.

“I’m fine,” I say, brushing at my eyes. “Honestly. And nothing is over, necessarily. We’re just taking a break until he’s home, and then we’llsee.”

“Why wouldn’t you just end it?” he asks, suddenly angry. “You deserve so much better thanthat.”

“We’ve been together a long time, Brendan. It’s not a decision you make overnight. And he swore he didn’t cheat, and I believe him.”Sortof.

He pulls on his T-shirt abruptly. “The sun’s gonna set soon. You ready to headout?”

I nod, sorry our afternoon is ending on such a sad note. He seems more unhappy about my break-up than I was, which doesn’t make a whole lot ofsense.

We walk back to the car in silence. The sun has begun to fade, and in its absence, the cold seems to seep into my bones. I wish I hadn’t mentioned the break-up. I hate the pall it’s cast oneverything.

By the time we finally get back to the car, I’m shaking with cold. I jump in place, trying to get warm. “Can you pop the trunk?” I ask him. “I need mysweatshirt.”

“Fuck,” he hisses. He’s come to a dead stop in the middle of the parking lot, with his hands in hispockets.

“What’s the matter?” Iask.

He looks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t have thekey.”

“What do youmeanyou don’t have the key? I saw you put it in the pocket of yourshorts!”

“Yeah,” he says. “The shorts you threw into EmeraldBay.”

* * *

One hourand several testy conversations with a Hertz employee later, it is concluded that we will have to wait until morning, when the Tahoe office opens, to get a replacement key. It’s now dark, and I’m unbearablycold.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Brendan for the hundredthtime.

He grins. “It’s really okay. You’re the only one of us suffering,Frosty.”

This is true. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold in my life, and I live in a state where it hits 30 below in thewinter.

Adding to my misery, there’s some big convention going on in Tahoe, and after we Uber into town, it takes us over an hour to find a single available room, which hasonedoublebed.

“Nothing else?” Brendan asks, pleading in hisvoice.

The woman stares at her computer. “I’m sorry. This is all we’ve got at themoment.”

“We’ll check somewhere else, then,” Brendan tells her. “Thanksanyway.”

“No, a double is fine,” I argue, teeth chattering. “I’m freezing, Brendan.Please.”

Once again he gets that look on his face, as if I’ve asked him to scale Everest. It’d probably hurt my feelings except I’m too damn cold to feel anything, emotional orotherwise.

* * *




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