Page 84 of Drowning Erin
He pulls back after a moment. “I don’t want any details. I never, ever want any details. I just need to know if it’sserious.”
Serious.
Could I possibly claim that it’s serious, when the end is imminent? When Brendan won’t even acknowledge me in public? Could I possibly claim that it’snotserious when it feels like Brendan is holding my heart tight in his carelessfist?
“No. It’s not,” Ireply.
The sun falls across the yard in a sudden stripe of muted gold. I tell him I’ve got to getwork.
“Can I see you later?” heasks.
“How long are you intown?”
He swallows. "I was hoping to talk to you about that. Do you think we could meet forlunch?"
It feels too soon. It feels like I need a month before I hear what he might have to say. But that's just cowardice, so I reluctantlyagree.
He stares at me for a long second. "You're so beautiful, Erin. I know I've said it a hundred times, but I'm seeing you now, and I can't believe I ever let you go without afight."
He leaves, and I find myself fervently hoping he hasn't decided to fight for me now,either.
* * *
As much asI want to call Brendan, I don’t. I want to talk to Rob first, as if there’s anything that might be said during our conversation that would keep Brendan from ending whatever this is we have going. Instead I sit at my desk all morning, so sick with nerves I’m barely capable of pretending towork.
I’m sure it doesn’t escape Timothy’s attention. He’s been quiet since the incident that led us both to HR, but I suspect he’s documenting my every move—and on his best behavior so I have nothing to document in return. He doesn’t comment when I leave for lunch, but he watches me go. I’d bet a hundred bucks that he scurries right back to his desk to make a note of it the second the doorshuts.
Rob is already waiting when I get to the restaurant. His face, as I approach the table, is wistful and hopeful at once. We chitchat at first, like business associates. He asks after my family, and I give him the high points. I ask after his, and he does the same, although I doubt he has to do quite as much selectivesharing.
“It’s so good to see you,” hesays.
He reaches across the table, his fingers twining with mine. I’d have expected to want my hand back, but I don’t. We’ve done this for so long, it’s almost muscle memory at thispoint.
“I didn’t even want to go the house,” he says, “knowing you weren’t there. Except you never even liked that house, didyou?”
I shrug. "Maybe. But relationships are aboutcompromise."
"Yeah," he agrees. “Except you did all the compromising. And because you gave everything up so easily, I thought none of it mattered to you. But it did. You stopped even asking me for the things youwanted."
If he were Brendan, I could explain that this is how I was raised: you ask for nothing, you fight for nothing, you keep everyone happy—whatever the cost. But Rob knows nothing of my past. This is probably why he understands so little about me. Everything I am was created in that environment. And to reveal any of it would be to reveal all of it, so the girl he knows is basically just someone I’ve substituted for the realme.
"I think maybe we just never had enough overlap, Rob. We're like a Venn diagram where the intersect istiny."
"I disagree," he says. "Because what I want most—more than my job or anything else—is you. I never put you first, Erin, but that's going to end now. I swearit."
Suddenly this conversation feels like a train withoutbrakes.
I'm sleeping with your best friend. These are the words that could stop it, were I able to utter them. "Rob, you're still based in Amsterdam.I—"
"I'm home for good,” he says, cutting me off. "I told them I either came home or I was quitting. I'll have to fly back once a month, but that'sit."
"Why?" I ask weakly. What I want is to sayWhy in God's name did you do that? And please don't have done it forme.
"Every success I ever had was a success forus, was something I saw benefitting us as a couple, benefitting our kids. Without you, it's just money, and it’smeaningless."
There was a time when I would have loved to hear those words, but now they simply bounce off my surface. He is a good man. He will make someone very happy. But that someone isn’tme.
“Please don’t decide right now,” Rob says. “I know I fucked up, and I just want achance.”