Page 39 of Drowning Erin

I don't tell him, but lying like this makes everything better for metoo.

* * *

Dorothy's surgeryis scheduled for 8, so we leave for the hospital shortly after waking. I email Timothy on the way and tell him I’m sick. In four years of working there, I’ve only taken sick leave once, yet I guarantee he’ll bepissed.

When we arrive at the hospital, we’re ushered back to Dorothy’s room. She and Peter both grow animated when we enter, but it's a sort of false, panicked excitement, the kind you see when a mother is assuring her child that the broken bone jutting out of his skin is going to be just fine. They speak too fast, they laugh too loud, and when Dorothy squeezes my hand and thanks me for coming, her eyes brim withtears.

We've only been here a few minutes when the nurse comes in to take her back. Brendan is frozen—not willing to let his mother leave, not willing to say so aloud. He looks at me, panicked and lost. I cross the room and grab his hand, twining my fingers through his as if he’s Olivia’s three-year-old son, Matthew, nervous as we step onto the teacups at the fair. I pull him to Dorothy's side, leaning down to kiss her forehead. He squeezes the life out of my hand as he does the same. Then they wheel her out of the room, Peter following them down the longhallway.

Brendan doesn’t want to eat, so we go to the waiting room, where he sits with his shoulders hunched over and handsclenched.

"What do you need right now?" I askhim.

“Nothing,” he says, but he slides me closer to him, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I rest my head against his chest and feel his relieved exhale against my hair. “Justyou.”

* * *

It's nearlytwo hours before they tell us she's done and in the ICU, and another hour before they allow Peter to go back. When he comes out, I try to send Brendan in, but he refuses, grabbing my handagain.

"No," he says. "I want youthere."

Seeing Dorothy is a shock. I'd never say so to Brendan, but she looks bad—her skin so pale it has a bluish cast, papery thin and dry. If I'd been told she was dying, I wouldn't have expected her to look any worse than she does. They've taken all but one line out, but she has bruises and bandages covering her at multiple points, which doesn't look muchbetter.

Brendan asks how she feels. She tells us she’s fine, which can’t possibly be true, and says we should headhome.

“I'm just going to sleep all day anyway,” shesays.

Brendan hesitates, glancing at me, not sure if he’s supposed to argue. When he finally agrees, she suggests that he go get the car so she and I can “chat” for a moment. I find this almost as unnerving as he clearly does. For a moment he stands, unmoving, as if he wants to refuse, before walkingaway.

After he’s gone, she grabs my hand. "Thank you for coming out here like this. It would have been so much harder on Brendan withoutyou."

"It was nothing. I'm glad I couldhelp."

"No, it wasn't nothing. I hated telling him about this, thinking he had no one to lean on. And he needs someone to lean on, even if he doesn’t think so.” She sighs. “Ever since Gabi, he just refuses to try. I’m not sure he’s ever going to be serious about anyoneagain.”

Gabi, I assume, is the ex-girlfriend with whom it ended so badly. I feel a moment of blistering jealousy for this girl who held his heart, something I was never capableof.

“People recover from all sorts of things,” I reply. “He may surpriseyou.”

“Maybe,” she says without conviction, leaving me to wonder just how bad something has to end for people to assume you'll never enter a relationshipagain.

29

Brendan

Three YearsEarlier

For several months,Italy stops living up to the hype. Whoever coined it “sunny Italy” must have come from the Pacific Northwest, because we get one day of sun here for every seven I’d have gotten in Colorado. Business slows to a trickle, and my ample downtime is spent at bars with the guys from work. I rarely leave alone, but it’s empty. All the things I thought I wanted, when I was so determined to steer clear of Erin, turn out to mean nothing tome.

I’ve begun to contemplate a move to Bali by the time the weather starts to improve and business picks up. That’s also when we get some new staff, including another American, Gabrielle, also from Colorado. Sully set it up, assuring me by email that the girl was “smoking hot”—which is a little fucked up, given that she’s hiscousin.

Seb, the owner, asks me to come in on my day off to take her around. He tells me I’ll thank him after I see her. And when I get to the office on Monday morning and find her waiting on the front steps, I have to admit that Sully was right. Italy is full of hot girls, but this one blows them all out of the water: black hair swinging halfway down her back, perfect pouty mouth, almond-shapedeyes.

I don’t sleep with co-workers, but that rule was a little easier to follow when all my coworkers were dudes. When she smiles, it lights up her entire face, and I know that rule has officially reached itsend.

The clouds part and the street is suddenly bathed in gold. It feels like a sign. She hasn’t said a word, but for the first time in the six months since the wedding, I feel hopeful. Maybe she’s what will make me forget about all the things I’ve been trying, without success, to leavebehind.

30

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