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I spend the next day waiting to be called into Timothy’s office, feeling sick. The call doesn’t come, but it makes me realize just how often I’ve waited here, exactly like I am now, to be punished for something, and typically something that isn’t my fault.
It’s time to face the music: I love my office mates, and I love my school, but my time at ECU has run its course.
49
Brendan
Three Years Earlier
I go to work on Monday, but my tour’s been cancelled. Seb, the owner, asks me to go with him to shop for bikes instead. I agree without a second thought. Shopping for bikes is like porn for me. Once it’s suggested, it’s almost impossible to resist.
The first text from Gabi asking where I am arrives around noon, and it isn’t until it arrives that I realize I’ve been waiting for it, bracing myself almost, the way you do before you reach for a light switch when you know it’s going to shock you.
It’s puzzling even to me, recognizing that I dreaded this text and that I somehow knew it would make me grind my teeth, that I would loosen this tired sigh before I send her a simple reply, telling her I’m looking at bikes.
She’s been doing this more and more, ever since the discussion about Erin, keeping tabs on me the moment I’m out of sight.
But my irritation with her over something so mild also makes me feel like an asshole. She’s my girlfriend. Of course she wants to know where I am. Why the fuck should that bother me?
But just seconds later comes the next text, asking when I’ll be home.
And I’m annoyed anew.
Because I’m annoyed, I tell her I’m not sure, knowing even as I write the words that I’m making the problem worse. Gabrielle is not the type to handle any kind of ambiguity well—she approaches life as if it is science, and she wants a precise why and when and what for every question. This is probably why laid-back dudes who lead bike tours don’t usually wind up with Stanford medical students—the personalities required for each are diametrically opposed.
When the follow-up text comes from her—why don’t you know?—I do the ultimate dick move and just turn off my phone. I want to enjoy this. I love looking at bikes, and I love testing bikes, and discussing bikes, and she’s ruining it by aggravating me. So I’m not going to let her. I’m going to enjoy this, and I’ll deal with her afterward.
It’s late afternoon by the time I’m done. I head home, checking my phone. There are 32 texts, all of them from her.
She’s pissed when I get to the apartment, but I’m pissed too.
“Texting someone 32 times might work with your little pre-med boyfriends,” I tell her, “but it’s not going to work with me.”
Her face falls, which is when I realize I wanted to fight with her. I wanted her to stay pissed off. I guess the truth is I want a little air, a break from this thing. I miss not having to be on my best behavior all the time.
She starts to cry, and my irritation vaporizes, replaced by guilt. I’m responsible for this. She’s younger than me, and she’s also just…young. She has so much less life experience than most 22-year-olds. In this moment, as I watch her weeping, her hair clinging to her face, I know I’ve made some kind of grave error.
“Gabi,” I plead, “don’t cry. I’m sorry.”
“Are you cheating on me?”
“What? No! I was seriously looking at bikes. That’s it.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, pressing her face into her hands, crying harder. “I’m not good at being with someone. And now that I’ve slept with you, I feel like there’s nothing to keep you coming back.”
“Gabi, that’s crazy. Of course there is. I like you. Did you think this was all about me sleeping with you a few times and moving on?”
“I don’t know. It’s what you’ve done before, right? I love you. I love you so much, Brendan. I don’t know what I’d do if you cheated.”
She waits there, wide-eyed and broken, wanting me to say it back. And—because I know the truth will hurt her, because I’ve fucked this whole thing up so badly, and she’s leaving in a little over a month—I do.
50
Erin
Present
Brendan and I have spent most nights at his apartment, rarely venturing outside of it. I enjoy our nights in, but I sometimes wonder if we’re staying in for reasons he’d rather not discuss.
