Hurricane

July 2006

“Brendon?”

I waited and was relieved that there was no response. The apartment was empty.

I set my purse on the counter of the kitchen and headed straight for the bathroom. I shut the door, locking it behind me and went to the shower, turning the water on. I took my shower, not thinking about anything. It wasn’t until I was out of the shower and had dried off that I started to cry.

I didn’t know what had gotten into me. I never thought that I would be the kind of person who cheated on their boyfriend. But maybe no one ever really knew what kind of person they were.

What was even worse was that I had enjoyed it. I had enjoyed the familiarity of Pete’s body against mine. I didn’t even know if I could face Brendon.

I heard the apartment door open and close and then Brendon calling my name. Then silence. A moment later there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“Molly?” Brendon asked. “Are you in there?”

I rubbed my eyes and took a breath.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

---

Somehow I had acted normally. Somehow I had convinced Brendon that everything was fine, that nothing new happened at work.

Somehow I found myself at Pete’s apartment a few days later.

“The other day was a one time thing,” I said, getting straight to the point. “It was a mistake and we shouldn’t have done it. I mean, you’re one Brendon’s friends! And I’m his girlfriend—I love him.”

We were both seated on Pete’s couch, on opposite ends. He was silent; it wasn’t awkward. He was just thinking. I could always tell when he was thinking.

“You don’t love him like you love me.”

It was a statement and we both knew it was true, but I didn’t say anything. It was quiet again.

I stood up and looked at Pete.

“I’m gonna go,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow for work.”

---

Pete wasn’t in the office the next day. Worried, I tried calling him but he didn’t answer. I organized a few things in his office before Pete finally sent me a text. It said one thing: Writing.

I knew Fall Out Boy’s short break would be coming to an end soon based solely on that text.

I thought back to all the hours I spent in Pete’s bedroom, laying in his bed while he wrote in his notebooks. I could just picture him now: bent over a desk with concentration written all over his face. Pete was passionate with his writing.

I left work early and went back to Brendon’s and mine apartment. I was happy to find him there on the couch watching something on tv. I gave him a quick kiss before going to get changed into my pajamas. I went back out to the living room and curled up next to him.

“Why are you home so early?” Brendon questioned.

“Pete didn’t come in today and I had nothing to do,” I said. “He said he was writing.”

“Writing what?” Brendon asked.

“No idea,” I said.

I sat up a bit and kissed Brendon again. A few minutes later, I was lying back on the couch with Brendon on top of me, his hands pulling at the waistband of my shorts. In that moment, I thought of Pete. I felt a surge of guilt go through me, and suddenly everything felt wrong. Everything didn’t make sense.

Quickly I pulled my mouth from Brendon’s and pushed at his chest to get him to sit up. Both of our breathing was heavy.

“I’m sorry,” I said before he could ask questions.

“Are you okay?” he asked. I nodded my head.

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” I said, getting off of the couch. I went into my room to change my clothes again. Brendon followed.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.

“No,” I said. I smiled at him for reassurance. “I just need to get out for a little bit.”

I left a few minutes later.

Somehow I found myself at Pete’s apartment again that day. Somehow I ended up in his bed.