Page 104 of Drowning Erin

And then, at the 58-minute mark, Rob walks into theroom.

“Brought you a visitor,” hesays.

And behind him standsSean.

We all burst into tears—me, my mother, my father. All of us relieved and sick with grief, knowing this may very well be the last time we’re all in the sameroom.

Sean and my mother go to my father’s side, and Rob comes to sit next to me. I hear my dad telling Sean he’s a good son and he’s proud of him. I guess my mother and I aren’t the only liars in thefamily.

“How did you find him?” Iask.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’d do anything for you, Erin. You should know that bynow.”

I do know that. I can’t begin to thank him. We were broken—I was broken—and now things feel like they might come together again. All because ofhim.

“I want you to move back home,” he says. “Harper’s roommate must be due back any day now. I just want to take care ofyou.”

I hesitate. It feels wrong, but when has making a decision based on what Ifeelever proven helpful? Brendan’s the only person who’s ever felt right, and he was never even a real option. That verse from the Bible comes to mind. It’s time to set aside childish ways. I need Rob. I’m overwhelmed and incompetent on my own—look at what a mess I made of my life in the short time he was away—but he came back and fixed everything. He is what will keep me from ending up like my parents and Sean. He is the thing that will stand between all of us anddisaster.

“Okay,” I tell him. My voice is barely a whisper but he hearsit.

* * *

My father is wheeledfrom the room to go to the OR, and my mother weeps. The hours pass, and she continues to weep, aside from the time she spends blaming me for all of it. She doesn’t say it aloud. She just says, “I wish this hadn’t happened,” and looks directly atme.

Sean is using again. He’s too pale, too restless. For the first time in my life, I’m beyond caring. I’m glad he’s alive. I’m glad my dad got to see him. It feels like little else matters at themoment.

“I can go talk to the chaplain if you want,” Rob suggests. “I’m sure he could marry us here after your dad’ssurgery.”

I blink. I’d forgotten that was even under discussion. I shake my head. “We’re not ready for that, Rob. And it feels like tempting fate, planning something that depends on my dad making it.” What I don’t say is that the very thought only adds to my grief, and I already haveplenty.

He squeezes my hand. “Sorry. I just thought it might help if you had something to focuson.”

I know part of why I agreed to get back together with him was gratitude. He found Sean. Agreeing felt like a small concession in light of everything he’s done for us. But it’s also simply that he’s safe. He’s solid ground. He’s the thing that keeps my head above water so I can do the same for everyoneelse.

When we get the news that my father has survived the surgery, I go to the chapel. I thank God for letting my father make it this far, which is easy to do, and then I say another prayer of thanks for Rob. That one, oddly, is moredifficult.

Part of me still desperately wishes things had gone a differentway.

72

Brendan

Present

The assisted livingfacility sits in an enviable location. When I arrive, the sun is in its last moments of fullness, hanging heavy before it descends behind the mountains. It’s the kind of view that makes you stop in place for a moment, and Gabi is never really going to see anything like it again. The guilt I feel about what happened with her is a constant in my life, but right now it’s so amplified I can’t feel anythingelse.

The woman at the registration desk tells me Gabi is probably in the art room. They use a lot of euphemisms here. They label the rooms—music room, art room, game room, library—not for the residents, but for the people who love them. It’s a way of pretending anyone here has a normallife.

I walk into the room, seeking one blank face among many, and I find it. Gabi’s hair is short now, but I would know her face anywhere, even with eyes that no longer flash or let me see inside her soul. Immediately I wish I hadn’t come. She won’t understand my apology. I’m not even sure if I came here for her or just to make myself feel better—which is something I don’tdeserve.

A man approaches me from the other side of the room. It takes me a minute to place him because he’s aged a decade in the three years since I last saw him: Gabi’s father, a man who must hate me above all livingbeings.

We haven’t spoken since he came to my apartment in Italy to retrieve her stuff. Another hard memory. He’d wanted to see the bathtub, which I hadn’t even seen myself, since the place was still considered a crime scene. The look on his face when I opened the bathroom door to her blood still glazing the tub made me wish I’drefused.

“Hello, Brendan,” he says. He extends a hand, which I did not expect. His wife certainly wouldn’t have doneit.

“I’m sorry…” I hesitate. “I can comeback.”

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