Page 119 of When The Rain Falls

I rest my head on my desk again. "I don't know," I mutter. Nausea hits me like a bat to the chest and bile rises in my throat. "Garbage pail," I moan miserably, reaching a hand weakly towards the trash can. I can’t tell if I keep dry heaving because I’m hungover or because my life is in shambles and I don’t know how to fix it.

I told Aimee to leave because I didn’t trust myself with alcohol in my system. I told her to leave because I was wrestling with the fact that Laurel is fading and Aimee is growing like a burning, hot sun over all the parts of my life. And it’s got my insides tied up in knots. But most importantly, I told Aimee to leave because I was trying to figure out how to tell Laurel goodbye.

Saying goodbye is fucking hard.

Because I couldn’t say goodbye to Laurel, Aimee said goodbye to me.And now I might have lost her. But maybe it’s for the best. She’s better off without me.

Rebecca hands me the garbage pail just in time for me to dry heave into it. Jane steps back a couple steps and wrinkles her nose. “Why would you come into the office sick? You're going to give it to us."

"I don't think it's contagious," Rebecca says softly. I feel her hand on my back, rubbing in gentle circles.

"Finn. Tell me," she coaxes softly.

I just groan. “I did something I shouldn’t have done," I murmur once the dry heaving has stopped.

"Is there a body? Do you need help hiding a body?” Jane offers.

"What? No. Jesus!" I yell, my forehead resting back on the desk. Suspicious how she’s usually so unhelpful until she thinks it’s time to hide a body.

It’s quiet in the room and I imagine that disapproving looks are being exchanged behind my back, but I’m not lifting my forehead from my desk. It’s far too heavy. So I focus on the soothing motion of Rebecca’s hand on my back.

"Finn. What did you do?" Rebecca asks.

"I think I ended things," I sigh.

"Ended things, like a human life? A heartbeat?" Jane asks.

"Goddamn it. No. With Aimee!" I yell. I place my hands on the side of my head, hoping to ease the dull ache that’s pounding in my head.

"Who’s Aimee?” I hear Jane ask.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” I mutter. I roll my head from side to side, like it's a stamp being rolled onto an ink pad. Because maybe that will stop the pounding. Suddenly, there are two pairs of hands rubbing my back. Great. I'm now the center of the office pity parade. “Just that I met someone. And I fucked it up. Like I fuck up everything,” I mutter.

“You do tend to do that,” Jane says.

"Thanks," I tell her dryly.

I hear Ann and Rebecca whispering to each other behind my back. I know they’re talking about me. Wondering what they’re supposed to do. I don't even care. Because I don’t know what to do, either. I just stare at my shoes. And the worn blue carpet. And wish the floor would eat me up. I should have stayed home today.

I finally sit up and the rubbing on my back stops. "Oh, hey," I say with false enthusiasm. "You'll enjoy this, Jane. I'm going to take the stipulation. The deal. You won't have to deal with me for two fucking months."

"Finn, don't make any decisions when you're like this," Rebecca cautions.

"I've been thinking about it all week. I already decided. My lawyer agrees. I’ll start in two to three weeks.”

"You really won't be here for two whole months?" Jane asks, not bothering to mask her excitement.

"You know, you could probably use the time off," Rebecca adds encouragingly.

I spin around in my chair to face them. "It's not time off. It's a fucking suspension.”

"But a short one. It will go by fast. Take a vacation," Rebecca suggests. I cross my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes at her.Take a vacation?Sure. Let’s treat a forced suspension from my career like a damned trip to Disneyland. I swallow a growl and take a deep breath.

Rebecca ushers Jane and Ann out of the office. Then she shuts the door and sits on the edge of my desk, next to me. She doesn’t say anything. After years of knowing me, she knows that I only talk when I’m ready. So, she just sits there. It’s what Aimee used to do, too.

Aimee.

I don’t know how it happened. How I unexpectedly found a friend in someone like her. Someone kind, and gentle, and patient enough to put up with my bullshit. The emptiness of our hearts brought us together. And I fucking pulled us apart.

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