The Opposite of Drowning

by Erin McRae

  ELIZA WAS UNABLE TO focus on the rest of the meeting. She was tormented by the thought that the both of them going to Paris was Harry’s doing. It was an unkind fear, and one that suggested that, had their situations been reversed she might have very well chosen to abuse her own power. But their situations were not reversed, and she deserved clarity if nothing else.

  When they had finally all been dismissed, she grabbed her things and followed fast on Harry’s heels as he left the room. With only a wary sidelong glance at her, Harry led the way to his office. As soon as the door was shut behind them Eliza demanded, “Did you plan this?”

  Harry didn’t seem quite able to meet her eyes. “No. No, I didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?” Harry’s lack of eye contact was not reassuring. But at her question, his gaze snapped to her face.

  “Did I plan to have our boss send us both to Paris when we –” He cut himself short. “I learned you were going when you learned you were going. If I had known –” He stopped again. “I didn’t know. I promise,” he said, his voice lower, but his tone no less distressed.

  When we what? Eliza wanted desperately to ask. Not because she didn’t know. But because she wanted to hear him say it. But that was out of the question. “Okay. Thanks. I just wanted to know. I – thanks,” she said, nearly babbling. She knew she wasn’t making much sense, and hoped Harry wouldn’t ask her any questions. “I’ll see you later,” she said, and fled.

  “WORK IS SENDING ME to Paris,” Eliza told Cody later that night. Her phone, set to speaker, was on top of the tiny possibly Soviet-era microwave on her counter as she unpacked the groceries she’d picked up on the way home.

  “That’s nice,” Cody said absently. “What for?”

  “The Paris Book Fair. It’s in March.” She didn’t tell him that Harry was going, too. There was, after all, no real need for him to know.

  “All the way to Paris? For a book fair?” Cody asked. “That seems a little over the top.”

  “It’s a very significant event for the publishing industry. And one of the biggest cultural events in Europe.” Eliza smiled as she said it; that was part of the phone training she’d received growing up. A listener can always hear a smile, and it would help nothing for Cody to hear her teeth grind the way she wanted to.

  “Oh, is it? I’m sorry. I can’t keep track of all your events.”

  “It’s fine,” Eliza said, even though it wasn’t. But Cody was in the middle of an election campaign. Of course he was distracted. Her mother would say she should be understanding of the pressure he was under.

  “When is it?” he asked.

  Eliza gave him credit where credit was due; at least he was asking her questions instead of changing the subject to himself. She told him the dates.

  After a long pause, Cody said, “Uhhmmmm....”

  “What’s wrong?” Eliza asked. Still smiling.

  “The election is that week.”

  “Oh. Yeah. I guess it is.” Eliza didn’t know how she could have forgotten, but frankly, she was glad she had. If she’d remembered, she would have had to decide before now whether she cared enough to try to do anything about it.

  There was another long pause and Eliza filled it reflexively. “I guess I’ll see if I can get out of it,” Eliza said into the silence. Too well, she remembered their argument at her parents’ house. “But why does it matter?”

  “Why does it matter?” Cody asked. Now she had his full attention – and the full heat of his indignation. “You work in marketing, I shouldn’t have to tell you why it matters. People aren’t electing a name, they’re electing their own political aspirations. Not to mention fantasies. If you’re not there with me, if it looks like you don’t support me. It’s an image disaster for the campaign.”

  I work in publishing, she thought fiercely. “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “I’m not,” Cody said in the stern tone that always raised Eliza’s hackles instantly. How dare he speak to her like one of his office minions? For that matter, how dare he speak to his office minions like that?

  Eliza felt too tired to argue and too angry to give him any more of her attention. “I’ll ask about changing the work trip. All right?” She knew she sounded upset and reluctant, but that’s exactly what she was.

  “Thank you,” Cody said shortly. “I hate to cut you off, but I have a dinner meeting with some people –”

  “No worries. Talk to you later.” Eliza couldn’t wait for the conversation to be over.

  “Love you!”

  “You too.”

  Eliza ended the call with relief.

  THE REST OF THE WEEK passed unpleasantly. Cody didn’t reach out to her again; Eliza knew he was waiting for her to call first. Doubtless he expected her to tell him she’d cancelled the Paris trip and would be appearing at his side on election day like the dutiful, image-conscious fiancée she was.

  Eliza had no intention of doing any such thing. If Cody had been more understanding of her position, maybe. But she never wanted to be Cody’s prop, on election day or any other day. The Paris trip was the perfect excuse to stay away, and if Cody wasn’t interested in hearing her reasons she had no interest in spending any more time explaining them.

  She waited a few days for the sake of optics, then sent Cody a regretful email that the publisher had turned down her request to skip the trip.

  Eliza was self-aware enough to know that the Cody situation would have been easier to deal with if she hadn’t also been dealing with the Harry situation. She felt guilty about her feelings regarding Harry and guiltier still about that guilt. There wasn’t anything wrong with having a friend. Or a crush. Or a certain rapport with a colleague. There were all sorts of intimacies other than marriage, and she resented the world that made her suspicious of that truth. Which did not make her more inclined to do whatever work was required to repair things with Cody.

  Meanwhile, her confession of her engagement – and her paranoia that Harry had arranged their assignment to the Paris trip – strained things with him as well. Not once during the whole week did Harry ask if she wanted to order in dinner together. He didn’t even stop by to ask if she wanted to take a break and get coffee. She knew she should be relieved; having one less variable in her life to manage was a good thing. But she missed him. His company, the sound of his voice, and the way he seemed to have absolutely no expectations of her at all.

  Harry

  HARRY SPENT THE WEEK in a moody misery. No amount of stern talking to himself could snap him out of it. Yes, Steven was gravely ill. Yes, he had a mess of a manuscript to fix – not to mention travel and leave plans to get approved. But all he could think about was Eliza, the fact that they were going to Paris together, and that Eliza had suspected him of arranging the trip.

  Considering the circumstances Harry could hardly blame her. He was sure he hadn’t done anything overt to betray his interest in her. But there had been so many little moments, some almost acknowledged between them. Which was exactly what he knew he should have avoided. Even if Eliza weren’t engaged, she was too young and Harry was too old.

  It wouldn’t be fair. It wouldn’t be kind. And it wouldn’t be right.

  But she was engaged and Harry’s complicated feelings were all moot anyway. So why couldn’t he forget about them and get his damn work done?

  At the next department-wide staff meeting, Harry picked a seat at the far end of the table, hopefully away from anywhere Eliza would choose to sit. But Eliza was the last to arrive, and when she did the seat across from Harry was the only one still open. Without looking at him – for which he was grateful – she slid into the chair, opened her laptop, folded her hands delicately in front of the keyboard, and looked at Ioanna, apparently intent on the proceedings.

  Harry tore his gaze from her and told himself not to wonder why she was late.

  But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pay attention to the meeting. And he couldn’t let his gaze wander to Eliza. If he did, every longin
g, messy, unfair feeling he had about her was going to be written all over his face. But even without looking at her, he was so aware of her, as if a thread of a thousand strands connected them.

  Giving himself another internal scold to get it together, Harry tried to busy himself with his inbox under the guise of paying attention and taking notes.

  Which was how he clicked on an email from Steven without particularly thinking about it.

  He stopped cold.

  Dear Harry,

  Greetings from beyond the grave. Well, not really. But if you’re getting this, I’m dead and Mallory has hit send. Sorry about that.

  In the next days and weeks, you’re going to hear all sorts of things about who I really was and how I really felt. Most of it will be vaguely accurate, but none of it will be as true as what you and I, divided by time and death, think of each other right now. I’m not even being poetic. This is a real thing. Discussion of our memories overwrites them.

  When our friends say I was a scientist and insist that I have winked completely out of existence, consider the possibility that they are lying.

  Sorry for the invite to the worst party ever, but please do help Mallory any way you can.

  Keep an eye on your mailbox.

  Cheers,

  Steven

  Harry pressed his fingers over his mouth and let a shuddering breath out through his nose. For a moment he allowed himself to cling to the hope that this was all a joke, even if it never had been Steven’s way to be cruel. He’d known things had taken several turns of late, but a final one? He’d had no hint of it. Steven had spent a few days in the hospital but that was nearly routine for a man in his circumstances. No one, Steven and Mallory included, had seemed any more alarmed than they’d been for months.

  Harry’s email flashed with a new alert, and he glanced back at his inbox with dread, not yet ready to face the rest of the Miscreants’ grief and confusion – they must have gotten emails as well. To his surprise, it was from Eliza.

  What’s wrong?

  Harry took in another deep breath as he typed. Dying friend has completed the task.

  Premature and unexpected despite circumstances? Eliza replied.

  Rather.

  I’m going to give you an opportunity in a few moments. Take it.

  Harry frowned at the cryptic email. He was in no mood for puzzles. Then another message arrived.

  And whatever you do, don’t pick up your laptop too soon... or too late.

  As Harry looked up to see what on earth Eliza was about, she half stood to reach for the carafe of water in the center of the table. As her gaze met his with a deliberate intensity, she knocked it over, sending its contents everywhere.

  Harry stared at her. She stood stock-still in apparent surprise at having caused such a flood. People pushed back from the table, and the water cascaded towards Harry’s laptop.

  He slammed it closed, cursed under his breath, and snatched it up. Eliza jerked her head towards the door as she began apologizing frantically for the chaos, including the possible ruination of Harry’s laptop.

  Go, she mouthed.

  Harry did as he was told.

  As soon as he was out of the room, he was glad that he had. The shock of the news about Steven, temporarily alleviated by Eliza and her insistence on a distraction, hit him full force.

  Eliza found him, half an hour later, in a little-used fire staircase, perched at the top of the steps that ran between the floor his office was on and the floor the conference room was on. Without invitation, she sat down next to him and bumped their shoulders together.

  Harry made himself sit up straighter which also had the effect of putting slightly more space between them. “Did I miss anything interesting?”

  Eliza shook her head. “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll be fine, so long as you don’t ask me questions like that.”

  “Okay,” Eliza said and stood up again, this time holding out her hand.

  Harry stared at her blankly. He was spending a lot of time doing that today.

  “We’re going to lunch,” she said, opening and closing her hand insistently.

  “You already caused a scene at the meeting, I don’t need another distraction.” Harry didn’t care if he was being sullen. Steven was dead.

  “And I don’t need you in my life being a jackass,” Eliza said. “But here I am. Let me take you to lunch and keep you company while the shock wears off, and then you can grieve on your own time.”

  Eliza must have sensed that Harry was in no state for lunch anywhere he would have to mind his manners. She bought them hot dogs at a cart down the street and then tucked her free hand into his elbow and led him off down the block again.

  “What are you doing?” Harry asked when she led them up the steps at St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

  “Hide the hot dog and look natural,” she said, which had to count as one of the top five most absurd things anyone had ever said to Harry in his life.

  They wound up in a corner of the Cathedral, half hidden behind a column and a bit of construction. They sat side-by-side like two weekday supplicants, except for the occasional bite of food they snuck while reasonably sure no one at prayer – or any of the security staff – was looking.

  “I suppose this means I really should get my plans in order about Vienna,” Harry said, once they’d been sitting there a while in silence.

  “Vienna?” Eliza asked. “I thought you were done with that book. Or at least in the editing stage.”

  Harry shook his head. “Turns out it needs more than edits. And I don’t know how to fix it without going back there. With Steven ill and the holidays I’d been putting off dealing with it, but now....” He trailed off.

  “You don’t sound keen to get away,” Eliza observed.

  “Vienna is difficult. And at least as cold as it is here.”

  “Yes, but it’s not here, is it?”

  Harry tipped his head to the side to acknowledge that. “No. It’s not. Which might be convenient under the circumstances. But being left alone with my words... it’s not appealing right now.”

  “If you don’t like the book, and your agent doesn’t like the book, and you suddenly feel compelled to live your life before you drop dead, why are you going back to Vienna at all?”

  Because if nothing else, I’ll be able to escape from you, Harry thought.

  Chapter 7

  The Body Politic

  Eliza

  THE DAY AFTER SHE AND Harry ate hot dogs at St. Patrick’s, Eliza was at her desk trying to make sense of an email chain between herself, one of the developers working on Philippe’s food truck game, and Charley. She had no idea how her invisible boss had gotten on the thread; she also couldn’t figure out how to politely get her off of it again. Almost everyone else in the office had left for the day and Eliza was thinking longingly of being at home, in bed, with a book, when her thoughts were interrupted by Harry’s voice. “Do you have a moment?”

  She glanced up to see him standing outside her office door, looking uncertain, as if he wasn’t sure of his welcome now that Eliza wasn’t helping him with an acute grief reaction.

  “Of course. What is it?”

  “Do you mind if I –?” He stepped into her office, then put his hand on the doorknob.

  “Not at all.” Eliza wondered what on earth he needed to talk to her about with the door closed.

  He shut the door gently behind himself. “I wanted to thank you. For being so kind yesterday. And also to apologize for being, well, rude and difficult on several occasions.”

  Both the thanks and the apology caught Eliza off-guard. She had expected neither, either from Harry or anyone else in the same situation.

  “You’re welcome. And thank you. You have been, but you’ve been under a strain.” She gave him a smile and was surprised to find that she felt the words much more sincerely than she had when she’d tried to excuse Cody for his inattentiveness. But then, Cody had never apologized for, or even ack
nowledged, his own bad behavior.

  “Also, I’m sorry if I gave you any reason to think....” He stopped himself and started again. “I’m sorry you suspected anything about Paris.”

  Eliza shook her head. “No. That’s....” Don’t you dare blame yourself for something he’s equally a part of, her mind whispered fiercely. “Life is complicated all over.”

  They were both quiet for a moment. Eliza wondered whether the mood was going to shift back into their old comfortable banter, or if they were going to stay in this new cautious awkwardness forever.

  “Well,” Harry said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “With that settled. Would you like to take a walk, maybe get some coffee? I’ve been trapped at my desk all afternoon pricing out flights to Vienna and desperately need a break.”

  “WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS for when you’re done here?” Harry asked as they walked down the street. The hour was already late, the sky having long since gone dark. Midtown had already emptied of its office workers and all the pricey coffee places had closed for the day. But there was a satisfaction in getting non-chain coffee from a bodega. And not just because it only cost a dollar.

  “Imagine,” Harry said, kindly glossing over the fact Eliza had not yet answered his question “there was an entire world before Starbucks.”

  Although tempted, Eliza didn’t bristle at what could have easily been a comment about her age. She knew Harry well enough now to know that, rather, it was about his own. They walked back to the office slowly, steam rising from their cups in the chill January night. Eliza imagined that neither of them were particularly eager to go back to hunching over laptops and worrying about encroaching deadlines.

  “I try not to think about it much,” Eliza admitted while they waited at an intersection. “What happens after this.”