Page 6 of Drowning Erin

“Okay, how about if I add in a hot factory guy who spends the entire day saying dirty shit in your ear? And so you push the button and get your paycheck and go home and do unspeakable things for hours with the hot factory guy.”

I laugh but feel a stab of envy. Sex, for Harper, is like some kind of ultimate amusement park—a ride that just keeps getting better every time she hops on.

“If I had that factory job, I’d probably just spend more time asleep.”

“Then Rob’s doing something wrong,” she counters. “You haven’t been with him that long. It should still be exciting.”

I don’t expect her to understand because she didn’t grow up like I did. But I’m not looking for excitement. I simply aspire to the absence of pain. And therefore, I have exactly what I want.

5

Brendan

Four Years Earlier

I walk in for my first day of work at the tour company and find none other than Erin standing there. She looks different. Will could have at least mentioned how fucking pretty she’d gotten. And I also forgot about those lips of hers—I’m not sure how—but it makes no difference. She smiles at me with her heart in her eyes, and I know immediately that she’s still the same girl, the type who wants a relationship straight out of 1955, complete with promise rings and corsages and chastity. Worse yet, she’s also the kind of girl who’ll develop a crush, who’ll create all kinds of fantasies in her head about spring weddings and what our children will look like, without me saying a word to encourage her.

And when I don’t make all of her dreams come true, she’ll get upset, and my brother will blame me.

She grins as she hops on the sign-up desk, swinging legs that are much longer and leaner than I remember. “Hello, fellow summer hire. You want a tour?”

I shake my head. “I’ve seen it before. Where’s Mike?”

Her smile falters a little. I know I’m being a dick, but something about her brings it out in me.

“He’s in the back office working on next week’s schedule. I think he meant for you to just use today to get oriented. You want me to call him?”

I walk past her. “I’m a big boy. I can find him all by myself.”

I sidle through the rows of bikes and get to Mike’s office. I know him fairly well through Will, who worked here almost two years before moving to Seattle.

Mike raises a brow. “Surprised to see you back here,” he says. “I thought Erin would give you a tour.”

“She offered,” I say. “I’ve been here enough. Don’t really need it. You want me to get started on something?”

“So I just gave you the chance to hang out with one of the hottest girls who’s ever set foot in this building, and you want to work instead? I thought I was hooking you up.”

I shrug. “She’s not my type.”

He gets this strange look on his face. It takes me a sec to figure it out.

“No, Mike, I’m not gay.”

It looks like he doesn’t believe me, and that makes me like Erin even less.

6

Erin

Present

My father is slurring, but that’s nothing new. And he sounds desperate, distraught, but that’s nothing new either. Thank God Rob is a sound sleeper. I don’t think these calls have ever woken him, and that’s a godsend because there’s a whole lot about me and my life I don’t want him to know.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, walking out of the bedroom and curling up on the living room sofa. “Where are you?”

He mumbles something that sounds like Anson Street, and I ask him if he’s called a cab.

“Don’t need a cab,” he slurs. “M’ fine. But I can’t find my car.”