near the tub as she continues to ‘give me the
shoulder’, as it were. She doesn’t emit a sound.
“Erin?” I call her quietly before moving forward
so I can look her in the face.
She’s curled up in the tub, hugging her legs
against her chest, and is crying mutely. As she goes
on not moving, not speaking, her shoulders quiver
just slightly.
I set the tea down on the edge of the tub and
kneel down. She remains still, not talking.
With my heart in my shoes and my hands that
won’t stop shaking, I brush her arm ever so softly,
and the contact with her wet skin makes me
instantly crazy with longing.
I am completely screwed.
“Is … is everything alright?”
No answer.
“Honey…” I say in a moment of brain damage.
“Please, talk to me.”
So she turns slowly with her head still resting
on her knees. Her eyes are tired and swollen and
I’d like to cut off one of my own testicles for
having been the idiot responsible for all this upset.
I slowly brush her face, as if touching her again
might kill me on the spot. It’s so slight, and she
might not even notice I’m doing it. I cock my head
and study her, trying to understand what might
make her feel better.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she says in a whisper.
“What are you doing here, Patrick? Why don’t you
