Page 22 of Drowning Erin

His eyes meet mine for a moment. I feel certain there’s something he wants to say, but instead he clenches his jaw and sets his empty glass on the bar with athud.

“Never mind,” he says. “Do whatever youwant.”

He walks away without even glancing at Harper, which I’m fairly certain hasn’t happened to her since she hitpuberty.

Even she is surprised. “Are you sleeping with him?” she asks. There’s no judgment in her voice, justcuriosity.

“What?! No! I’m engaged,remember?”

She watches his retreating form and glances back atme.

“Sure, I remember,” she says. “Not sure he does,though.”

* * *

I’d forgottenhow much I used to love going to shows. All in all, it’s a very fun night, aside from the weird fact that Brendan is always within 20 feet of me, like some kind of combination stalker/bodyguard. I only speak to two people other than him and Harper all night, one of them the bartender, and both times he appears beside me and remains there, glowering, until the guy walksaway.

I’m just walking into the house when Rob calls, and for the first time in a while I finally have something worthreporting.

“I’m glad I caught you,” he says. “I was worried you might be inbed.”

I tell him I’m just walking in, and he’s surprised, which I don’t fault him for, and displeased, which I do. He asks where we went with a hint of accusation in his voice, as if I’d promised to stay home and pine for him but broke ourdeal.

He’s silent when I finish telling him about my night. And though I didn’t expect him to get it—Rob isn’t a live music guy—I did expect that he’d be happy for me. That he’d express some degree of pleasure that I’m not alone every night while he’sgone.

“Is something wrong?” Iask.

He says no in a tone that implies otherwise, and I’m not sure how to get around it, or if I even want to get around it, because I’m pissed. I’ve spent three weeks hearing about the restaurants and clubs he’s gone to, but when I finally go out and find something I enjoy, he can’t bring himself to even pretend to beinterested?

He tells me, halfheartedly, some story about work, and I listen just as halfheartedly, putting the phone on speaker and walking into the closet to get my pajamas at one point. More and more, our calls are like this: one or both of us irritated, forced to maintain a conversation neither of us cares tohave.

“So if you’re going out with Harper,” he finally says, “I suppose you haven’t had time to look at reception sites.” The words are flat, utterly emotionless. Yet there’s acid beneaththem.

I knew he’d come out with iteventually.

“Seriously, Rob?” I explode. “I go outonenight and you’re on me aboutthis?”

“Just don’t bother telling me you’re too busy anymore, okay?” he snaps. “Let’s at least be honest about it. You’ve got no interest in gettingmarried.”

“And you apparently have no interest in any part of my life that doesn’t involve you. Good toknow.”

I’m not sure who hangs up first. I only know that we aren’t people who fight, and we aren’t people who hang up on each other, and lately it seems that’s all wedo.

16

Brendan

Four YearsEarlier

By midsummer everythingabout Erin has turned gold—her hair, her skin. Her mouth is pink like a rose in bloom. Sometimes I catch myself just staring at herface.

This metamorphosis of hers is a complete pain in the ass for me. It means every time she walks through a bar, she’s getting checked out, and every time she walks away from our table at night, some guy will stop her with the world’s lamest excuse to strike up a conversation. My need to get involved in these situations hasn’t escaped anyone’s noticeeither.

As someone accosts her at the bar and I jump to my feet, a few guys at my end of the table startlaughing.

“Let me guess,” says Kirk with a smug little smile. “You really hate Erin, yet you’re going to go over there and tell that guy to beatit.”

I narrow my eyes. “Someone has to. I don’t see any of you assholes taking care ofit.”

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