BRYNN
A few days have passed, but the mystery of Dan’s whereabouts the night of his farewell party still haunts me. He says he’s too busy to talk about it. And he is busy, getting ready to deploy. He’s packing and preparing and sorting through his tactical and field medical equipment, carefully checking off items from his list. He’s up early and home late with combat medic briefings and prep meetings. And he’s definitely not interested in talking about that night.
But my mind is stuck on repeat, going back over the holes in my memory, trying to find something that makes sense because right now nothing is making any sense. Why would he leave and go somewhere with Erin?
I should let it go, I know. But this is like a splinter in my heel, inching toward infection. The only thing that will cure my condition is answers. So I’m back to analyzing the mystery.
There has to be an obvious and innocent reason why Dan went somewhere with Erin. Maybe the timing was awkward, and he never actually went anywhere with her. But his stonewalling only makes me more suspicious.
It’s Monday evening. I’m still a little groggy from our Saturday night blowout, but I manage to warm up dinner (leftover take-out) while Dan searches the cab of his truck for his compass. I’m washing the dishes and mulling things over in my mind, when I hear his phone vibrating against the countertop.
With both hands plunged into the sink full of soapy water, I lean over to see who’s calling, as significant others have done from time immortal, I suppose, and glimpse the name of the other woman. Erin.
My heart beats fast, fighting imminent implosion.
Why is she calling Dan? Maybe she butt-dialed him. Then something occurs to me. Why is her number programmed into his phone? Perhaps he forgot to delete her contact from the good ole days.
Maybe I’m reading this whole situation wrong. So, once again, I find myself wondering about the nature of their relationship. Was it one of those love hate addictions? And the hate magically transformed to love the night of his going away party?
I know for a fact that he didn’t drive up to Newport Beach and back. That alone would take four hours. Shagging would take some time, depending on the quality of the pillow talk. Besides, he’s flat out, getting ready for deployment.
My heart sinks. Did she drive down here? Careening down the highway like a dog in heat, beckoning him over to her hotel room? That seems so seedy and gross. Something Dan would definitely not do. Right?
Okay. Okay. Calm down. I need to think about the facts. So I think about Erin’s enhanced bosom of all things. At least I can reach down and touch my toes.
See what venom lurks in my heart?
I hate that her missed call punted me back to my high school years, back when I was ‘one of the guys.’ I never was a show pony. I never sat in class, brushing my long sleek mane. I neither giggled nor jiggled.
But none of that matters now. I got the hot guy. Baywatch Babe can pound sand, as Dan would say. Trouble is, she doesn’t want to pound sand. It appears she wants Dan.
The back door opens. Glancing over my shoulder, I see Dan walk in. He’s wearing a ball cap with the bill pulled low on his brow, casting a shadow over his eyes and a hint of a sunburn on the bridge of his nose from his morning surf session.
"Can’t find that compass," he says, going to his phone. "Maybe Riggs has it."
I turn back and look past the frilly half-curtains framing our kitchen window to the neighbor’s stucco house beyond, focusing on his reflection in the windowpane, trying to look very casual. I’m watching for his reaction as he checks his phone and sees that Erin called. But he casually slips his phone in the front pocket of his jeans and opens the fridge door. Business as usual.
"Do you want a beer?" he asks.
I don’t reply. I can’t. My heart is splintering around the edges. His calm reaction confirms my very worst fear. I knew something happened that night. Now I know what. They rekindled, and I sat there drunk, oblivious, while it all unfolded right under my nose.
What am I supposed to do now? Pretend I know nothing? Confront him as soon as possible? Remove the door handles on his truck? So many options.
The fridge door shuts. "Brynn? You okay?"
Anger props me up, but under the hot fiery current, runs a river of hurt. Well, now isn’t the time to feel sorry for myself. Now is the time to get answers.
"No," I say, turning around and drying my hands on a dishtowel. "You have a missed phone call from Erin."
He scowls.
"Do you want to tell me something?" I ask, arms folded. "Because now is as good of a time as any."
"I don’t know why she called me."
"Well, I have a few theories. Why don’t we discuss the most obvious one first?"
His face freezes over. He knows the procedure. He’s buckling up for a wild ride into Woman Territory, where he’ll face any number of trials and tribulations, collectively known as communication.
"Did something happen that night we all went out?" I ask him. "I know you went somewhere with Erin. I saw you leave."
This is a shot in the dark because I think I saw them leave together. But his ribcage stills. And now I know it’s true.
I suck in a quick breath. I can’t stand the thought of Dan in anyone else’s arms let alone Erin’s. She’s so different from me. It seems almost impossible that he could love her and me at the same time. The only explanation is that he never really loved her . . . or maybe he doesn’t really love me. Maybe with me, he found someone easy, someone on whom he can wipe his feet.
"Did you get together or something? Is that why she’s following up?"
Dan looks horrified. At least that’s something. He clenches his jaw, twisting the beer cap off with ferocity, and walks out to the front room. I follow.
Bear, his Golden Retriever, sits on the couch, one fluffy ear cocked back as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. Well, that makes two of us.
"I want to know if something happened that night, Dan. I want to know the truth," I say, bracing myself.
He takes off his cap, tosses it on the coffee table, and rakes his hand through his dark hair. Then he sinks down on the gray couch next to Bear. I feel sick with anticipation. I’m not sure if I want to know the truth. Maybe I’m like Sheryl Crow. Maybe I want him to lie to me.
My heart twists thinking about Dan with Baywatch Babe, a fluffy Pomeranian poking its head out of her purse, her arm looped around Dan’s waist in a proud and proprietary manner.
I sit down next to him. "Is this it? Is she back in your life now?"
Dan takes my hand. I sniff, trying to hold back my tears. I don’t want him to see me weak and crying. I don’t want him to know how bad he could hurt me. But the warmness of his touch is the salve that I desperately need.
"Nothing happened," he says, locking his hazel eyes with mine, and I find myself falling into his golden prisms, bright against a field of dark blue. He pulls his mouth into a wan smile, causing the faint dimple on his cheek to emerge, the dimple that I love to see. He leans over and nuzzles his nose against mine. "I could never do that to you."
I sit there for a few seconds, drinking in his words—nothing happened, he could never do that to me—as the pain in my chest slowly fades.