Page 64 of Drowning Erin

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Hours later I stumble into my own bed. This time I sleep late, missing my get-over-Brendan run and my get-over-Brendan Pilates. They didn’t seem to be doing me much good anyway.

I wake feeling banged up and rejuvenated at the same time, as if I just went on the best hike of my life and capped it off with 15 cups of coffee, or ran a marathon and came in first. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know all this should be tempered by guilt, but I ignore it. Instead I put on my highest heels, my favorite dress and practically skip into the office.

Nothing can touch me. Not traffic, not Timothy’s snide comment about my arrival time, even though I wasn’t late. I didn’t know orgasms could make me invincible, but it appears they have.

I sit at my desk and reread all the texts Brendan’s sent me. None of them are even vaguely romantic, but my heart still does this ridiculous fluttery thing, the way it did when I was in sixth grade and Bradley Peterson passed me a note asking if I liked him. But of course, my ridiculous fluttering heart would probably send Brendan running. He likes me precisely because he believes my heart is too busy fluttering for Rob to flutter for him too.

I'm still reading them when Harper pops into my cubicle and comes to a dead stop.

“Hey,” I say, dropping the phone as if it’s burned me. “How was your trip?"

She doesn’t even answer. Just stands there staring at me, tapping her lip. “Something's different," she says, eyes narrowing. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," I chirp, running my fingers through my hair, feigning innocence. I'm quite sure I look completely normal, although I’m so relaxed I feel entirely liquid right now.

"Bullshit," she says. Her eyes widen and a smile flashes across her face. "You little slut!" she cries gleefully. "You got laid!"

I blink. "What?"

"Oh my God, we both know you can't lie for shit, Erin. Don't even try. Who was it? You didn’t get back together with Rob…” she says, mumbling to herself. “No, no, you'd have texted me if... Oh. My. God. Brendan. You slept with Brendan? Oh, don't open your lying mouth to me again. You totally slept with Brendan."

I slump in my chair, exhausted by the mental gymnastics she performed entirely on her own. "You need a psychic hotline or something."

"Wow," she mouths, sitting on my desk. “Tell me everything. Was it amazing?"

I smile. “It was okay.”

“Like I said before, you’re a terrible liar. There’s not a chance sex with him was merely okay. So what now? Are you a thing? Have you talked about it?"

"No, of course not,” I say. “There's nothing to discuss because obviously we are not a thing, and we will never be a thing. He doesn't want a girlfriend, and I have a boyfriend."

"Had," she emphasizes. "Had. You're a free agent now, my friend."

"Rob's coming back, Harper. It’s not like we could keep this going even if we wanted to, and Brendan isn’t the sort to want to.”

“Whatever. Until Rob gets here, I want you to tag him as much as humanly possible."

"I'm pretty sure we already did that. My vagina is broken."

"Well, go let him break it some more. Or if you're done with him, send him my way."

I feel an odd little flare of jealousy, which is beyond ridiculous. I don’t even know if I’ll see him again.

"He's all yours," I tell her.

Just not yet.

44

Erin

Present

Over the weekend, Mr. Tibbles and I move to Harper’s place. The finality of leaving Rob’s house—with the possibility that I might not return—hits me harder than I expected. For the three years I lived here, I assumed it was my future. I’d even chosen a room for the nursery. So it’s not just my home I’m losing; it’s all the potential lives that might have been led here. They’d have been good lives. Maybe not transcendent. Maybe not sex-til-2 AM, floating-into-work-ebullient-each-morning kind of lives, but also not anything to complain about.

And for most of my years, I’ve believed living a life I couldn’t complain about was enough. If Rob and I don’t get back together, I have to wonder if the day will come that a life I can’t complain about sounds like a dream, if I’ll look back on what I had here and be stunned by the stupidity of letting it go. I lock my engagement ring up in Rob’s safe, wondering if I’ll ever see it again.