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“That’s not why I’m annoyed,” he replies. “Lots of people have a parent who drinks too much. I did. But it’s completely fucked up that your mother is asking you to drive to Denver when she’s right there.”

“She isn’t making me do it. She’s just…sort of childlike. She falls apart and is completely helpless when anything goes wrong.”

“So you’ve got a helpless mother, an alcoholic dad, and a brother who’s a coke addict. And every fucking one of them turns to you when they need help.”

I can’t imagine why he cares about any of this, unless he’s bothered by the baggage I’m bringing into Rob’s life. “This doesn’t have to impact Rob,” I tell him. “I’d never expect him to deal with this or help pull their weight.”

“Of course you wouldn’t! He doesn’t even fucking know it’s happening.”

Maybe he’s right to be mad. All of this shit is going to catch up with me eventually, isn’t it? In a few short weeks Brendan’s already learned way too much. Surely, over the course of a lifetime, Rob will too.

We arrive in Denver and repeat our adventure from a few weeks prior. My father is again at the third bar we visit, and my mother is again livid that I’ve exposed our family in this way. This time, she chooses not to speak to me at all, not a single word.

I walk out of their condo feeling exhausted and hopeless. There are times, like right now, when I sort of wish it would all end. Not just the drinking, or Sean’s problems, but all of it. I can’t abandon them, but sometimes I wish I could shut my eyes and have all four of us cease to exist.

I turn my head toward the window so Brendan won’t see me crying. He figures it out anyway.

“Is this about your dad or something else?” he asks quietly.

I dry my eyes on the inside my T-shirt and clear my throat. “I feel,” I begin, my voice rasping, “like everything is falling apart.”

“Why?”

“I hate my job. I hate my life. I don’t even know what I want to do in my leisure time. I’m not sure I like anything, which is the most depressing thought of all.”

“You used to like plenty of things,” he says. “You loved to bake. And bike. Or kayak. Or go on road trips. Remember when you drove to Portland to see that band because you liked one of their songs?”

I’m a little surprised he remembers anything about me, much less all this. Even Rob would have struggled to come up with that list.

“I’ve got no one to bake for, and everything else—those were college things. I mean, who am I going to bike or kayak with? Who’s going to roadtrip to Portland now? We all have jobs.”

“All I’m saying is that you used to like plenty of shit. I’m not sure why you’re not doing any of it, but the problem isn’t that there’s nothing you enjoy.”

When we arrive home, he stops the car, but neither of us gets out.

“So, are we, like, friends now or something?” I ask. If this is only a temporary cease-fire I’d like to know.

He hesitates, glancing at me and looking away. His jaw is knife-sharp, silhouetted by moonlight. “We can try,” he says.

I sigh. “I didn’t ask you to climb Everest. I just asked if we could be friends.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “I know.”

I get the feeling he’d rather climb Everest.

20

Erin

Present

The next evening I’m struggling to keep my eyes open after work—I think I only got about three hours of sleep before and after the Denver trip—when Brendan taps on the door and walks in. He’s golden from a day in the sun, and wearing a navy blue fleece that makes his eyes look unreal. I’m so tired I can barely see my hands in front of my face, but I can’t stop noticing him.

He thrusts a Diet Coke and a pint of Cherry Garcia into my hands. "As I recall, you like Diet Coke with your ice cream, which is completely illogical, by the way. Why the fuck would you drink diet soda with ice cream?"

It’s so weird that he’s here, and that he remembers yet another obscure thing about me. "What’s this for?”

He shrugs. "You wanted to be friends. I’m attempting it. No promises though.”