Chapter 4

“Really.” My voice was as flat as if I were commenting on the weather. 

I remembered rushing to the bar at midnight three years ago, getting puked on, and staying up all night taking care of him. When he woke up, his first words were: “What are you doing here? Where’s Brianna?” 

Two years ago, when he had a fever, I sat by his bed helping bring down his temperature. In his delirium, he grabbed my hand and mumbled, “Brianna, don’t leave.” 

Six months ago, when I rushed over, Brianna was already there taking care of him. She looked up and smiled at me: “He said he missed me.” 

I used to think that whoever’s name he called when drunk was whoever he had in his heart. So I kept rushing over, wanting to prove I was the special one. 

Now I finally understood: He called my name not because he loved me, but because he knew–I was the only one who would 

actually show up.