Kindred Spirits

by Sincerely Tiffany

You meet a stranger, you fall into bed and you part ways, never expecting to see each other again. Too bad it's never just that simple.

51. Little E

TW: mentions of suicide.

Erin enters her apartment, trying to breathe quieter so it isn't obvious how much taking the stairs made her feel like she was fighting an uphill battle. Once she gets the approval from her doctor, she's renewing her gym membership. She swears. Erin tiptoes down the hall after locking the door, makes a pit stop at the kitchen to grab paper-towels and utensils (more than one just in case she dropped one of her spoons like she's done many times in the past) and then toes off her shoes right before entering her bedroom. She expected both Jay and Emma to be asleep, it's how she left them before she tiptoed out, but when she opens her bedroom door, she sees Jay sitting up in bed, entertaining himself with a game on his phone, while a tabletop lamp illuminates her bedroom as Milo and Emma continue to sleep nearby. After their night together, they chose to move Emma into her room to make it easier for nighttime feedings and Jay had wanted to wait up until Emma fell back asleep before going to the guest room, only for him and Erin to fall asleep in bed together. The exhaustion of the day and the high intensity of the night had worn them out.

Jay hears her enter, turning his head simultaneously while setting his phone down, "Hey, welcome back. Where'd you go?"

"I had a taste for some ice cream. I ran to Walmart." She holds up the plastic bag.

"…in your pajamas?"

Erin glances down at her outfit, for a second forgetting what she's wearing and then shrugs, "Oh please, on a scale of the weirdest things to happen at Walmart, me in my pajamas is the least weird thing you'd see." She had a point there, "It'd be weirder if I went to Walmart at this hour not dressed in my pajamas," and she had an even better point there.

She steps on the front of her socks to pull each one off her foot without touching them, then holds up two spoons and climbs into the bed with the carton of ice cream. Jay watches her, silently staring as she gets adjusted and comfortable, "I really can't believe you left out in the middle of the night to go to Walmart for ice cream. You never fail to surprise me."

"There's still so much more to learn about me Jay," she chuckles, maneuvering the ice cream to one arm, along with the utensils in order to flush her pillow up against the headboard, "I should have bought more than one carton because this probably won't make it through the night."

"…especially if we're sharing," he swipes the extra spoon from her hold.

"I should have at least bought the family size and not this individual carton. I didn't even bother looking for it, once I saw this flavor, I grabbed it and then headed to self-checkout," at the mention of that last word, a thought from earlier came to her mind, "oh I need to say this before I forget and then we can dig in. Self-checkout really needs to come with some type of employee discount. I don't work there but they're making me work there."

He shrugs, eyeing the lid of the container as she pulls it back, "When you're right, you're right. You make a good point, one that actually makes sense when you really think about it."

Once the lid is peeled back, Jay dives in, with Erin coming in later after she looks over at the baby still sleeping in her bassinet. In the middle of the night, Erin had a random craving for ice cream, none of which she had in her freezer and the local Walmart was the nearest store open to her at this hour. So, in the dead of night, silently moving through her apartment, she dipped out, leaving the care of the baby to Jay until she returned half an hour later.

"When'd you wake up?"

Jay sits up in bed, readjusting himself, chest bare with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, "I heard the door close when you left. I texted you but you left your phone on the charger."

"I couldn't resist the craving. Back when I was pregnant with Emma, I used to leave out at random hours of the night to feed my cravings so it kind of became second nature. I only stopped because I didn't want to pack the baby up to take her with me but since you were here, I figured I should take advantage of the moment. I hope you didn't mind."

"…of course not, she stayed asleep the entire time."

"Lucky, she's definitely being on her best behavior because you're here," Erin rolls her eyes and digs back into the ice cream. She shuts her eyes, basking in the party of flavors melting on her tongue. She goes back in for another bite, noticing that Jay had stopped, "What's wrong?"

He clears his throat, "Um," he adjusts himself and the ice cream tub, "we should talk about what happened last night and what it means."

Now that causes Erin to stop, dropping her spoon in the barely eaten tub of ice cream, "Yeah, I actually," she cleared her throat, ice cream now momentarily forgotten, "I was thinking about this conversation during my drive. It's pretty obvious what happened last night but we both know that it can't mean anything. Abby is still obviously in the picture, that much is clear from the two of you cozying up at Molly's yesterday." She attempts to act as if it doesn't bother her, but Jay sees through it. Before he can talk about it, she continues, "it's obvious the two of us just can't stay away from each other. It's pretty clear that I'm attracted to you, and if I can read you as well as I think I can, it's obvious that you're attracted to me too," he nods, confirming the statement, "it shouldn't have happened, I'm sure we can agree on that, but I don't regret that it happened and if I'm being honest, it's one of the reasons I was so hesitant to agree to let you start staying over. We throw ourselves at each other like a bunch of horny teenagers, we're better than that."

"We are," he agrees and she can tell he has more to say, "but you're just so irresistible."

She smiles at the compliment before diving back into her ice cream, "I'm somewhat resistible if you're dating Abby and not me," like ripping off a bandage, she surprises them both by the boldness in her statement, "seeing you with Abby at the bar, I don't know," she shrugs, "it made your relationship with her seem more real. It reminded me that it is real."

"...only in title," he corrects.

"That's real enough. She has the title of girlfriend, even if you haven't kissed her, or slept with her or went out on a date with her in a while, for all intents and purposes, she's your girlfriend."

"I don't get it though. You knew all of this hours ago when we slept together."

"...which probably makes me just as bad as you."

Both fall silent. Erin continues to eat and enjoy her ice cream. Jay lost his sweet tooth. Just ten minutes ago, everything was fine. They were fine. But, suddenly a shift occurred and if he didn't proceed with caution, it could erupt into something bigger. Jay sits up straighter, positioning himself better to see his daughter sleeping peacefully in the bassinet, completely unaware of the shift in mood, "Do you really see me like that?"

"Uh," the spoon hovers in front of her mouth, "what do you mean?"

"I'm not trying to be a bad guy here, Erin, really I'm not, even if my actions don't really line up with what I'm saying. I'm just so confused and lost, and I don't see her as a girlfriend."

"Do you ever plan to break up with her?" She interrupts, "Or are you stringing both of us along?" She eats the spoonful just before it starts to melt.

He sighs, "Erin, you know I wouldn't do that."

"Do I?"

"Erin-"

"You're with her to help get her help, that's admirable, honestly it is, but when you know you have every intention to break up with her, you're just waiting for the right time, then it's a problem, it's stringing someone along. It's never going to feel like the right time. It's a cycle, and she'll keep threatening to hurt herself in order to keep it going."

"So what do you suggest I do then?!" He interrupts, and with Erin glancing over top of him to look at the baby, he realizes just how loud his voice was, causing him to lower it a few notches, "Huh? Break up with her, ignore her threats to hurt herself, act like I don't care if she kills herself? What do you suggest I do here, Erin? I'm truly up for suggestions if you have any because it's so easy to say what you'd do when you're not the one in this situation! It's not your conscious it'll be on if she hurts herself! Your heart won't be the one that's broken. I admit I don't love her but I do care about her. She's sick in the head and she needs help and it's all because of me! I'm telling you, she wasn't like this in Wisconsin, it's like when I did what I did, it changed her, it broke her, so wouldn't staying around to fix what I broke be the right thing to do? Do you really expect me to not only betray her trust and break her heart, but break up with her and then walk away too, leaving her with nothing and no one? Because that's honestly what she'll be left with, -nothing and no one. I can't do that! I won't do that! I'm sorry, I'm not that guy. I'm not."

Erin is cautious with her response, knowing how defensive he can be about Abby, she doesn't want to push his past his limits, "Have you ever considered that maybe she was like this in Wisconsin, that maybe she's never been put in a position for you to see it, or that the blinders that you have on when it comes to her were a little stronger than they are now?" She senses he doesn't have an answer to that, but it doesn't stop her from continuing on, "Maybe, just maybe it's always been there, hiding beneath the surface and at the first sign of trouble in your relationship, she couldn't hide it anymore. She only threatens it when she thinks you're going to leave, that's the only time it's mentioned. It's to control you. It's a form of emotional abuse, the same type of abuse my ex used to inflict on me-"

"No," he immediately interrupts, "no, no, no don't compare Abby to your ex of all people. She's nothing like him. She'd never talk to me the way he talked to you."

"Okay," she raises her hands in defense, as if figuratively waving a white flag, "maybe not in the exact same way, but just hear me out for a second," she reframes her earlier stance, knowing that she is not privy to all the happenings in his relationship with Abby, not that she wants to be, "that psychological, emotional type of abuse can look like someone weaponizing suicide against you with every intent of making you feel too guilty or scared to leave. She's basically telling you that it's your responsibility to give her a reason to live. You're a cop, you have this innate need to protect and serve, and I can see where you're coming from, practically being told that someone you care about life is on the line if you don't meet her demands, I see where you're coming from but it's not fair to you and it's not fair to this little girl you're raising."

A large part of her expects him to be upset, to get back on the defensive, but when his shoulders sag and a lump forms in the bottom of his throat, she can tell the weight of this heavy conversation is getting to him. Maybe it was the mention of Emma that is helping, but whatever it is, she is grateful for it. And when he speaks, the cadence of his voice lets her know that maybe, just maybe what she's saying is getting through to him, "How can you," he pauses to lick his lips, "how can you be sure whether it's a manipulation and control tactic or a mental health crisis? How can you be sure it's not both?"

"Honestly, and I don't think you'll like this answer, but you can't," the way it comes out may not have been the best so she quickly amends it, "at least we can't. What I mean is there are people that are trained to figure it out and answer that question. The responsible thing, the right thing to do is put it in the hands of a professional, it's not right for you to stand in for a professional."

"Even when I think I'm doing the right thing, or being a decent human being, I'm not," he shakes his head, truly feeling exhausted with life, "seems I can't do anything right."

"Sometimes trying to do the right thing comes out all wrong," she whispers, grabbing the carton and the lid to close it, "I'll admit, I'm not innocent in any of this either, far from it, but if something doesn't change, this cycle is going to hurt whatever friendship we've built."

"Yeah you're right," he nods solemnly, rising from the bed, "I'm uh, I'm going to head to bed," naturally implying the end of this conversation, he reaches to take the carton from her, "I'll put this in the freezer for you." He doesn't wait for any type of response before he's out of the room and closing the door behind him.

It's silent and she hears his feet pad against the floor before the sound of the freezer door being opened is followed. She listens out for him, a part of her wishing he'd decide to come back, before extinguishing that flame when she hears the guest room door shut.

Erin lays back and rolls over onto her side, lifting her head just a few inches to place both of her hands underneath. She's not going to be able to fall asleep anytime soon, so she simply stares into the distance, sensing Milo's eyes on her as he lays near the bassinet. She feels judgment radiating off of him, only making her want to roll over and face the opposite way. Honestly, she's probably projecting because she feels bad, and she feels like she deserves to be judged. He's already beating himself up about it, and everything he's said, she's already known, yet that didn't stop her from taking a potentially productive conversation and turning it on its head.

She knows his first appointment with his therapist has been scheduled. She remembers he's feeling anxious about it, and she thinks back to how she tried to help calm his nerves, only to realize that it'll take him doing it, going through with it, before he fully relaxes. Erin thinks the same thing can be said for his relationship with Abby and breaking up; he's worried about what his girlfriend will do and while Erin thinks he should call her bluff, she knows suggesting that won't do any good. Jay doesn't like change, not many people do, and even though Erin cannot stand Abby, she knows Abby is familiar, she offers some form of stability. Jay's mother had died and for a man that has family that barely wants to be around him, Erin can see how it probably feels good to have someone wanting to be in your presence. Putting herself in his shoes, she can kind of see why he stays, and maybe it's not her place to talk about his relationship, maybe she should leave that to his therapist, but it's hard, especially when you're seeing someone you care about hurting. That last thought sticks with her because it's the closest she'll ever get to his point of view. Erin cares about Jay and wants to do something about it even though she has absolutely no control, just as Jay cares about Abby and wants to do something about it even though he has no control. It's not necessarily apples to apples, the comparison isn't exact but it's close.

Soon enough she falls asleep, awakened once for Emma's feeding, only to be awakened again a few hours later by the ringing of her cell. It's dark in her home, which has her believe it's too early for anyone to be a productive member of society. Emma is not even up yet for her next feeding which only annoys her more. There should be some law in place to prohibit people from waking up mothers of newborns especially when said newborn is sleeping the longest stretch she's ever done at night. Erin's wild slumber managed to unfurl her braided hair, spreading it crazily atop her head. Her face is burrowed between two pillows and she feels around her bed for her phone, following the sound of her ringtone to get near it, "Hello?" she swipes and places the call on speakerphone.

"Hi sweetie," it's her mom, Erin realizes. She also realizes that before answering she had no idea of who it could be, for all she knows it could have been a spam caller.

"Mom," she groaned, "why are you calling so early?"

"Huh?"

She lifts her head up to speak more clearly, "I said why are you calling so early?"

"It's seven," her mom states flatly.

"I don't know why you said it like that. Seven is early. Call back at a decent time please." And just as her finger hovered above the red key that would disconnect the call, her mom stops her.

"Oh before I let you go, I meant to mention before I left yesterday that Milo got into his treats somehow. I don't know where you store them but you need a better hiding place. Unfortunately I stepped on them when I went to look out the door, that little guy was barking like crazy, I thought someone was at your door. Anyway, I stepped on them, it crumbled into pieces, I cleaned it up and vacuumed, but just in case you noticed he had some missing, that's what happened."

Erin is so confused, "Huh?"

And Camille assumes it's because she's tired, "Okay, I got the hint. I'll let you get back to sleep, but don't be mad at me when you find out I made a warm spread for breakfast," Camille hangs up, leaving behind one confused daughter who is well aware that she's been out of treats for Milo since he ate the last one over a week ago. And that, if by chance she wasn't out, her dog is trained to not get his treats on his own, and on top of that, they're out of his reach.

Erin rolls over in bed, head leaning against the edge of it to see Milo laying down with both eyes closed and his ears perked up, "What is your grandma talking about?"

To her surprise, both of his eyes open and he barks twice as if answering her question. And just as she was about to quiet him down, to let him know it was a rhetorical question, a cry erupts from the bassinet, filling her bedroom with the sounds of Emma's strong vocal cords at play.

"Thanks a lot, Milo," his ears turn, as if he feels properly scolded, "I guess going back to sleep is out of the equation," and apparently so is the thought or curiosity she felt in wanting to know what her mom was saying. She pushes it out of her mind, assuming maybe her mom misspoke or maybe Erin did have more treats for Milo and put them in the wrong place. She throws the covers off her legs and gets up, lifting the baby up and situating her in her arms just before her bedroom door opens and Jay walks in with a warm and prepared bottle. The bottle she used in the middle of the night sat empty on the floor, obviously discarded after groggily feeding her.

He could tell she didn't expect this. She'd be a bit self-conscious about her appearance if he didn't already see her naked yesterday, and if he didn't already see her at her worst the day she went into labor. She meets him halfway in the middle. Neither of them share words as she hands him the baby to feed. It's time for her to pump and dump anyway, it's her second time doing so since going out drinking and she figures she'd do it at least until Emma is down to two bottles in the fridge. Better to be safe than sorry, she figures.

"I thought you were asleep," she says, initiating the conversation.

"I couldn't fall back asleep. I heard her cry and figured I'd heat a bottle up for her."

"Thanks, that was very nice of you."

"You don't have to thank me. I'm her dad. She's my responsibility too." He carries her out to the living room, leaving both Erin and Milo behind.

Milo looks at her, his ears moving once again as if he's communicating with her. If Erin wasn't so tired, she'd go out there and ask to finish where they left off, but instead, she soaks in his words, the reminder that Jay isn't a babysitter, he's right, Emma is his responsibility too. Without any regret, she climbs back into bed and goes to sleep, figuring if something goes wrong, he'd wake her. Milo jumps on her bed, curls into her legs and sleeps alongside her, only for both of them to be woken up an hour later when Jay lets her know he's heading out. Jay leaves at a decent time in the morning, whether it's to go home, to work or the gym, she doesn't know and she doesn't care to ask. It would just be her making idle chit chat anyway. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her. Fortunately for her though, he put the baby to sleep before he left. Emma's still at that newborn stage of sleeping majority of the day, only waking up for her feedings or to get some cuddles from her mama. Erin lays on the couch, looking up at the ceiling, trying to decide what to do on what's technically her last day before going back to work.

She puts on a movie, a scary one, and once the credits roll on the horror movie, she wastes no time switching over to a cartoon. She wants to avoid nightmares, and it's been a proven method for her to do just that. She falls into another nap, waking up to wake Emma up for her next feeding. This day doesn't prove to be anything special: Emma has tummy-time, Erin does the dishes, Emma takes a nap and Erin takes a shower.

Kim is going out on a date with Ruzek and it's obvious by the number of texts coming to Erin's phone in such a short amount of time, that her best friend is feeling pretty nervous about it. Erin debates calling her, but knows that'll break into the time it'll take for her to get ready. Instead, she rereads through her friend's messages, zeroing in on the last text, Compliment? It's one word, but in their friendship it has so much meaning.

You got this, Erin quickly types before following it up with, you're beautiful and amazing! You're the prize, and you better not forget that!

Whenever one of them is feeling down or low, they text each other the word compliment and the other will always respond with a compliment that is needed in the moment. She hopes hers work, and when Kim replies back with a kissy face emoji, Erin can only assume that it does. Time in her day continues to pass with Emma rotating between napping, feeding, relaxing in the swing and playtime with mommy while Erin finds herself occasionally checking her phone, seeing no text or request for picture updates of Emma from Jay. She knows he's probably still upset, but that doesn't stop her from sending a picture of Emma fighting sleep in her swing. He doesn't respond right away and she figures it's because he does have a life outside of her, so Erin continues to pass the time, distracting herself with staring around her living room in search of something that may need to be cleaned. Her eyes land on that octopus again, the hideousness of it makes her roll her eyes. She sees a torn thread on its tentacle from where Milo bit it. She walks closer to it, standing directly in front of it, looking at its lopsided eyes as she pictures where she can relocate it to, preferably somewhere not in her living room or the nursery.

She continues to stare into its eyes and unbeknownst to her, Abby stares into hers.

Erin taps her chin as she debates on moving it to the guest room. She'll ruminate on it for a few days because the guest room isn't that big and throwing this enlarged thing in there will only take up space that it doesn't have. A part of her feels like Abby got this to have a good laugh. No other reason for it makes sense. The theme song to whatever cartoon is on plays loudly, and she's quick enough to lower the volume and then switch over to the news, choosing to be an adult for a few seconds and actually catch up on the local happenings around her.

Coverage about politicians that are on the ballot for this upcoming local election.

Weather predictions for the next week.

Breaking news of a drug bust in Norridge, Illinois.

Updates on what's happening worldwide with inflation.

And while all of that caught her eye, it was the news about a break-in that drew her in, "Three men are facing homicide charges in connection with a break-in near Lincoln Park," she moves closer to the television, so close that if she stood there for too long, it'll affect her vision. She's drawn into the report, listening as the mugshots of the men are shown as the details of the crime are listed, some of which remind her of what happened to her. One of the main differences is that this poor woman didn't survive; she'd return home in the middle of her house being burglarized.

Erin reaches to the side of the television to increase the volume, listening to the reporters disclose how the woman left behind a boyfriend of three years and her parents. It's hard to wrap your mind around how one second someone could be here and the next be gone. She was at the right place at the wrong time. Erin starts to think of how her own trauma could have ended more horribly than it did, leaving behind her parents who would have had to grieve another child, their last child. She swallows a dry lump in her throat, feeling a sudden rage overcome her at the fact that someone took this woman's life away, at the fact that someone could have taken hers. Who has that right? What gave them the right? She clenches her hands, and squeezes her eyes shut to slowly inhale and exhale. This is why she doesn't like watching the news. The scars are reminder enough, and now the news is triggering. She reopens her eyes to see the eyes of the victim staring back at her. It's a photo submitted to the news by family, as the news anchors read the statement given to them by family, describing the dearly departed as kind, as generous, as creative. She had an infectious laugh, a welcoming smile and a confident sense of self. The rage within her rises, and she cuts the TV off before it can explode.

Her eyes close again; she sees images of herself on the floor, bleeding from the opened wounds that have now scarred. She thinks of the men that were arrested, the ones that had no sense of remorse when hurting her, the ones that laughed at her pain and ignored her pleas. She thinks of them, and despite what is politically correct to say, she wishes the worst for them. Just as she wishes for the men who killed that woman. Erin finds herself tearing up, momentarily grieving the life of a person she never met. It just hit so close to home, it reminded her so much of what she went through, it reminded her of what could have happened. And the anger comes back, only this time, it's directed elsewhere, not at the men that were arrested, the image of their mugshots forever ingrained in her memory, instead it's aimed at someone else. Acting on pure emotion, she goes to get her phone, sends off a text and only calms down a bit when she sees a message from Jay, responding to the picture of Emma with a smiley face.

Milo senses her emotion and comes over, chew toy in his mouth and he drops it to her feet, as if offering it to her for comfort, the same type of comfort it gives him. It's sweet, and she appreciates the gesture, bending low to ruffle the top of his head. He leaves her with his toy, and he takes off running, sprinting, going from room to room, zoomies coming out in full speed, and she's grateful that Emma is in the swing and not on her blanket for tummy-time because the rate Milo is running tells her that he's not necessarily paying attention to where he's going. He runs, and Erin finds joy in watching him, his zoomies lasting for quite some time before it ends with him jumping on the side of the octopus.

"Milo, what are you doing?" She laughs. And the pause after her question makes her laugh even harder. She speaks to him as if he's a real human, as if he can reply. He knows commands so it sometimes tricks her into believing he can understand any and all she has to say. He yawns, obviously tired from that burst of energy. He walks in circles, kicks one of the stuffed tentacles and then lays down, now using one of the tentacles as a pillow.

She goes to the couch, not just feeling physically tired but emotionally exhausted as well. It's midday, but it feels late, and just when she starts to doze off, she gets a text from Kim, she assumes it's about her date, you up? And now Erin has to think to herself, debating over whether or not she is awake, specifically if she wants to be awake. If she doesn't hear about the date right now, she'll just hear about it at work tomorrow. If it was anyone else, she'd not respond and pretend to be asleep, but it's Kim, her best friend, the woman that has been by her side through life's ups and downs, this is the least she can do, yeah.

Kim doesn't hesitate to call, and the second Erin picks up, she forgoes a greeting and starts talking, "Why does it feel so weird introducing yourself? Like I hate saying my name out loud."

"I get it, it makes me cringe sometimes too." Erin sits up. She's used to Kim so it doesn't stand out to her that there was no hi or no how are you. What does surprise her is before Kim could get into any detail about the date, she tells Erin she'll call her back. Rolling her eyes because she skipped another nap for nothing, she bid her best friend farewell.

Knowing Kim would call back at any minute or second, Erin chooses to not try to nap. If she tried to sleep now, she'd probably struggle with going to bed at a decent time tonight and she has to be up early anyway. She pushes herself to her feet and walks over to the swing, seeing Emma's green eyes open, as she rests peacefully in her swing, completely unbothered and undisturbed, "How long have you been up, Little E?" That nickname feels a bit weird coming out of Erin's mouth, she'll leave that one to Kim and continue with her usual monikers, "Since you're up, how about a diaper change and a bath?" Emma doesn't understand but Erin likes to think she does, especially when Emma unintentionally kicks one of her socks off her feet.

The kicking doesn't seem to stop even with both socks off. Emma ferociously kicks her legs in the infant bathtub like she's training for the baby Olympics, splashing water around the seat, spilling it over the edge and soaking her mom's shirt. Erin only laughs, feeling completely unbothered by her drenched shirt. It's moments like these that she'll always remember, and she wants to be as present as possible. Forgotten was the argument she had with Jay and lost in a sea of memories was the news coverage that sent her to the past. Every part of her was here, enjoying the moment, no matter how small it may seem to others. Erin grabs the second washcloth, wetting it and squeezing the water out above her baby's head, covering her eyes to protect it from the suds rinsing out of her hair. It's amazing how much can change in a day, how much she can grow and develop and change both inwardly and outwardly. Erin laughs when Emma finally stops kicking her legs, growing tired from the unintended workout.

"Break time Michael Phelps?" Erin jokes.

This time, bathtime, is her favorite time. It's mommy and me time, but this occasion is shortened and interrupted when her cell rings. She reaches into her back pocket and sets it down on the countertop, noticing her best friend's name lighting up her screen. She'd been expecting this call and she doesn't hesitate to answer it, "How was the date?" Erin gets straight to the point. Kim had a lunch date with Ruzek and it's damn near dinner time. She'd been waiting forever.

"Wow, no hi, no how are you, just straight to the point."

"I know you're not talking," Erin rolls her eyes, but when her friend responds with silence, she amends her words, "Sorry, hi Kimbery, how are you? How was the date?"

"Hi Erin, I'm good and the date was nice," it's all Kim gives her and Erin realizes she's going to have to pull teeth with this because her friend loves to make things difficult. However Erin refuses to play her game so instead she acts in the one way that Kim doesn't expect.

"Oh that's nice, I'm glad you had fun. I'm giving Ems a bath right now," so casually she changes the topic, "and she is just babbling up a storm and kicking in the water like a pro. She has-"

"I know what you're doing," Kim interrupts.

And Erin plays dumb, "and I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Fine, he picked me up from my apartment around noonish. He came to my door and everything. I thought I was going to meet him outside but nope, he came up, knocked and had flowers."

"Ooooooo sounds romantic already, what kind of flowers?"

"Petunias."

"Aren't you allergic?"

"Yeah, but it's the thought that counts. I gave them to my neighbor after he dropped me off. She appreciated them more than I could so no money was wasted."

"Did you at least let him know so he doesn't bring you more petunias?"

"No, I didn't want to hurt his feelings."

"I highly doubt you telling him that you're allergic to petunias will hurt his feelings."

Before Kim responded, she restarted the song in her car, too busy and absorbed in her conversation with Erin to notice that the majority of the tune had passed and she missed her favorite part, "If he brings the same flowers again, I'll tell him. Anyway, that's not the best part, he took me to this cafe that has some of the best chicken and waffles, I'll have to take you there because baby, let me tell you, those were mastered to perfection. I thought the date would be over, especially because it was so last minute, but nope, afterwards he took me on a brewery tour and then we took a stroll around Burnham Park. It was honestly perfect and so romantic."

"I didn't know Ruzek had a romantic bone in his body."

"You wouldn't know because you've never seen his body," Kim quipped.

Erin rolls her eyes and multitasks in wrapping a towel around Emma as she takes the phone off speaker and places it between her ear and shoulder, "Any plans for a second date?"

"Yes, of course, we're actually planning to grab dinner and then go to a drive-in theater."

"Oh that sounds like a lot of fun."

"It was my idea. We figured we'd rotate on who picks where we go for date night."

Kim mindlessly restarts the song after noticing she talked through it, "Kim," her friend jumps, startled by her name suddenly being called, "I swear if you restart that song one more time while I'm on the phone, I'm going to hang up."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd notice and I feel like I didn't enjoy it enough so I had to restart it. We keep talking through it."

"Then pause it or hang up."

She pauses it.

"Thank you sweetheart," Erin gushes, smiling with heart eyes at being heard. Figuring she'd dump the infant tub later, she carries her phone and her baby out of the bathroom as she actively listens to Kim gush about all she found out about Ruzek. She was falling hard, and Erin only hoped that Ruzek's feelings for her best friend were mutual. She deserves to be happy.

Erin goes into the living room for one second to cut the swing off then carries the baby and her phone into the nursery. When Abby realizes she isn't returning anytime soon, she shuts out of the app and tosses her phone to the side. Choosing instead to do something different, she thinks of the suggestion her therapist made, encouraging her to start journaling, reassuring her that it'll help with her overwhelming thoughts. The ideations she's experiencing needs to be tamed, and she refuses to bring them up with her therapist, knowing that she has a duty to warn and it just may possibly be a reason that justifies breaking confidentiality. She keeps them to herself.

Abby peels the plastic off the new journal she had bought, as recommended by her therapist; the one that she recently started back up seeing now that Jay was attending sessions. She intends to hold this journal as close to her person as possible, protecting it with her life as if it's her own child. As Abby opens up the book, clicks the pen to reveal the point and starts scribbling her internal thoughts, letting them out with no filter, she starts to see what her therapist was talking about, -it was refreshing. I hate Erin, and she follows up with writing why she hates her and everything she wants to do with her and to her. I hate Emma but I love her too, and she writes about how she hates the part of the baby that reminds her of Erin but loves the part of her that reminds her of Jay. It's complex, it's twisted, and she's fully aware and competent enough to know that if anyone saw this, they'd be concerned. If the thoughts didn't feel so good to have, she'd probably be concerned. Instead, she welcomed them, appreciated them, and basked in them, allowing them to come in, take over her mind and influence her actions.

She's not the best artist, but that doesn't stop her from scratching her pen across the page, back and forth, side to side, moving it around until she draws a semblance of what looks to be a baby, adding in dark splotches, x-marks, rips and tears. She mindlessly scribbles over the baby's face so fast and so hard that it tears, leading to the pen to start scribbling on the next page. It's kind of therapeutic for her, it releases a lot of pent up emotion and she continues doing it until she hears the shower cut off causing her to jump up, slide the journal under the couch cushion and turn the television on to a cooking channel. Ready to pose as the unassuming, angelic girlfriend that he sees, she crosses one leg over the other and twirls a loose strand of hair, falling into the image and role that she has so strategically perfected.

Because he's home, Abby doesn't feel the need to obsess over watching the video feed. When he's here, when he's in sight, she knows he's not doing anything wrong. She doesn't feel compelled to cut it on, choosing instead to give Erin some privacy tonight. Though there is a part of her that wonders what Erin is doing right now. Does she think of Abby? Jealous of her? Mad that Jay is here and not with her? A part of her wants to watch the feed in the hopes of catching her spiral, in the hopes of seeing her act in the manner that Abby had been acting. Abby leans back on the couch, zoned out as she watches some chef prepare some type of pasta dish, she's thinking of Erin, imagining her crying, pleading for Jay to stay only for him to reject her, to say that he belongs with Abby because he loves her, because she's perfect for him. She smiles, and when Jay comes out of the room to grab a beer, he assumes it's because she's enjoying her show.

It's probably a good thing she's caught in her mind and not caught on the live feed streaming to the app on her phone because Erin is doing nothing that she imagines. Instead, she's flipping to the next page in a book she recently started reading, moving her finger to the top line of the second page in the third chapter, her eyes widening as she grows more invested in the storyline.

Erin groans aloud, frustrated at being interrupted when she was just getting to a good part. She shuts the book she'd been reading when she hears a knock at her door. It's gentle, almost kind, as if inviting her to answer and invite the person on the other end inside. She rises to her feet, turning the book over and laying it face down on her couch to ensure she didn't lose her place. Milo beats her to the front door, but that's nothing new, he barks, and immediately she knows it isn't Jay. He rarely barks when Jay is at the door, and if he does, he for sure doesn't sound the way he does now. And on top of that, Jay has a key, he'd knock and then let himself in.

"I'm coming," chancing one last look at the baby sleeping in her swing, Erin goes to the door, opening it to find him on the other side. The look on his face is the same as when he last visited her, the only difference is she's not caught off guard this time. This time she invited him.

"You called me to come over," he pushes the door further open and lets himself in, "what is it that you want or are you going to pretend you didn't reach out to me again?"

Just after she shuts and locks the door, she repeats herself from the last time, sounding similar to a broken record, "I reached out to you now, but I didn't then. I don't know what to tell you, but it's the truth. I never emailed you. If I wanted to talk to you, why would I go that route instead of just calling you? I still have your number. I just chose not to use it until today."

The number isn't programmed into her phone. She didn't want to run the risk of buttdialing him or stumbling upon his name in her contacts. She has his business card stashed away at the bottom of her purse and since reaching out to him was deliberate, she damn near had to empty out her purse to find it. And once she used it, she disposed of it, knowing that if she didn't, it would constantly be at the back of her mind, criticizing herself for holding onto a sinking ship.

"Is it safe to assume that you reached out to me this time to apologize for our last encounter?"

"Eric-"

"Did you finally realize you were worse off with that other dude? That was smart of you," Her ex moves closer, "growth for both of us because look at me, here I am giving credit where credit is due," and for a brief second, just a short one, she regrets inviting him here, "Want my forgiveness? Want me to take you back? I can, I will, but first you have to do something for me. I don't want to always have to be the one to apologize," she nearly scoffs because he rarely ever apologized in all the time she has known him, and if he did, he somehow turned it around to where she ended up being the one apologizing in the end. Eric tucks his hands in his leather jacket, and she pictures a similar one to the one Jay wears; she definitely has a type.

"That is not-"

"Oh come on Erin," he interrupts, acting as if he didn't hear that she was about to shut him down, "Grovel, beg, do something interesting to hold my attention. I leave tomorrow, make this trip worth it for me. I flew all this way for you. I came back here after you called, all for you."

"I don't want to get back together," she admits, and she finds herself empowered by him having the decency of looking taken aback, "I called because I want to see the email again."

"You called me all this way to ask for an email that I could have easily forwarded to you?"

Erin rolls her eyes, and takes a deep breath. An outsider would assume she did that because she wanted to see him. She was just using the email as a way to see him. But, both of them know better than that. Her posture straightens, and while it's a struggle to meet his eyes, she holds his gaze for as long as she can, "you and I both know if I asked over the phone, you'd say no. If I text you to ask for it, you'd ignore it and act like you didn't see it. The best way for me to see that email again was to invite you over, we don't need to do the back and forth, I just want to see it." The smug look is back with knowing she needs something from him.

"Why not just go look at your sent messages? It should be there."

"I didn't send it."

"Or let me guess, you forgot the password to the fake email account you set up?"

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I didn't send that email!" She remains adamant about not sending it, but based on the humor in his eye, whether he believed her or not, he wasn't going to stop teasing her about it because it gets under her skin. He always manages to do that. He always knows how to do that. And she hates it.

Eric's eyes shift, moving from her to Milo sitting directly behind him, his stance firm, his posture upright. He clears his throat and moves from the threat of her dog lurking behind him to the slow speed of the infant swing. Erin follows his gaze and moves two inches to the left to block him.

"Why do you even care if you didn't write it?"

"...because someone else did. Someone wrote it pretending to be me. They had you spend money and fly all the way out here just to be rejected," that last word was emphasized on purpose because from her years of knowing him, he hates it.

"I didn't get rejected," Eric only focuses on the last part, "look I'm gone if there is nothing in it for me. Don't bother showing me the way out, it's not my first time walking out on you." That does sting, more than she's willing to admit, but she needs something from him right now and she cannot afford to focus on his quip. Instead she quickly moves around him, blocking his exit.

"I just want to see the email address, that's it, then I'm out of your life for good."

He pauses, looking down at her desperate eyes, "Why is this so important to you?"

"I told you because I want to see who pretended to be me."

Eric reaches into his back pocket, withdrawing his phone but not handing it over to her, "If I give you this, what's in it for me? Nothing is free, Erin. What will you do for me?"

"I won't go to the police."

"Here you go again, I had no role in the break in!"

"I believe you had no role in that just as much as you believe I didn't send you that email!"

"...and what proof do you have? They won't believe you. No one will believe you."

"You do realize that it wasn't even my idea that you played a role in what happened to me, right?" By the look on his face, he's not following, "The detectives investigating it had two theories and both of them involved you. I didn't want to believe it. I don't know what evidence they had to make them so sure that you're involved in some way, but they know it, they just can't prove it. At least not yet. How do you think they'll react to me reaching out to them to let them know you followed me to Chicago all the way from New York? How do you think they'll react when a sworn-in detective tells them how he heard you practically admit to being involved? Look Eric," she starts to calm down, "I just want to write down the email address and then we can both part ways forever. I'm not trying to create a problem. I don't have proof of your involvement but who knows what the detectives have? If I stir the pot enough, they'll open it back up. I'm sure of it. So please, if you played a part in those guys breaking into my house and beating me to a bloody pulp then what I'm asking for isn't much, it's honestly the least that you could do."

Erin averts her eyes from his face and over to the nearest wall, trying to distract herself and straighten her spine to not give off the appearance of being hurt. Majority of that night has been blocked from her mind. As clear as day, she remembers the beginning (waking up in the morning, following her usual routine and then heading into work) and then she remembers the end (laying on the floor, in a puddle of her own blood, bleeding out, waiting to die). The middle of the attack is all blank and no matter how much energy she puts into it, it doesn't come back.

"This doesn't mean anything," Eric unlocks his phone, goes to the email and slaps his phone into her hand, "I just don't want to hear you beg anymore. It's honestly pathetic."

The second his phone is in her hand, she blocks out his voice. She got what she wanted and now she is getting what she needs. Fortunately Eric has the email already loaded up, and when she glances at the email address, it doesn't look familiar. She cannot think of a person in her life that this email could possibly belong to, it really makes no sense. Erin has every intention of following up on this email, by first searching it on Google then reaching out to Mouse if she finds no leads and it doesn't work. She grabs her own phone, typing the email in her reminders app and then hands his phone back to him, "See, that was quick. Thank you Eric," she moves out of his way, no longer blocking him from the exit.

"Yeah, yeah, so we're even?"

And the scoff in the back of her throat nearly gets stuck; it takes every ounce of courage she could muster up to speak her piece, and she surprises herself when she manages to do so, "Even? You're asking me are we even because you gave me your phone to write down an email address? An email address? No, far from it, but getting even wouldn't make me feel better and it definitely wouldn't take back everything that happened. Thank you for giving me the email address," she cringes at herself for thanking him, but when it comes to her relationship with him, it's a habit that she hasn't broken yet, "I didn't think you were capable of something so…evil, especially to someone you claimed to care about, to like. You never laid a finger on me so I couldn't wrap my mind around the detectives telling me they think you hired multiple men to trash my place and beat me up. It sounded like something so far off, but then as time passed I realized that I was coming from a place with blinders on," like Jay, she silently says that last part to herself, "the detectives were impartial, they could see everything for what it was, but I couldn't. I was blind to it all, allowing the few good moments to mask and hide all the bad. I defended you to experienced detectives on the job because you had me so brainwashed to think that you were an angel that could do no harm," as she speaks, she grows angry, no longer choosing her words carefully, she speaks from the heart, damning any consequences that come from it, "I couldn't see you for who you truly were. You truly didn't want to be with me, you just hated the fact that I was the one to break up with you, so you plotted, you paid money and you got them to do that because you wanted me scared, you wanted me to feel unprotected without you. And I foolishly did because in my traumatized mind, I convinced myself that this wouldn't have happened if I didn't kick you out, if only I had stayed with you and I begged you to take me back, I foolishly begged like I wasn't the one to break up with you," the thought of it truly makes her sick. She feels nauseous, queasy, and she forces herself to swallow a breath.

Then she continues, "And you had the nerve to say you'll think about it, knowing you were going to say yes because that was your plan at the end of the day! The only thing you didn't bank on was how badly they'd beat me up and how traumatized I'd be after it. You signed up for the old Erin but when we got back together, you got a brand new one. It was one you couldn't handle, one that was even more broken and torn than the first, and when I couldn't find it in myself to heal for you, you left. You gave up on me and you left. You said I was too complicated, completely unfixable, but you made me that way, Eric!" She practically screams that last part, sending him back out of shock because she's never gotten like this with him before, "You did this to me," she shows her scars, flashing her wrist and then grabbing the bottom of her shirt to flash her waist, "You're just as guilty as the men that took the knife and stabbed me. You may not have done it by your hand, but my blood was surely on yours more than anyone else's!"

"Erin-"

"You're going to dish out another insult," Erin interrupts him, "you can save yourself the energy because I already know what you're going to say. You've been saying it to me the entirety of our relationship. I'm overreacting. I'm delusional. It was a joke. I'm overthinking things. It's not a big deal. I'm being too sensitive. It was my fault. And so much more, I remember, I'll always remember what led me to therapy so save yourself the trouble because nothing you can say can possibly make me feel any worse than I've felt the entirety of our relationship." She leads him to the front door, and Milo follows behind him to ensure he walks towards it, "I said all of that to say," she pinches the bridge of her nose, "that we're nowhere near even. The closest we can come to that is you confessing and taking the consequences given to you without pushback, but you and I both know that'll never happen. You got away with it. Congratulations, but you don't want to get in the pattern of performing your hero complex stunts in your future relationships because you won't always be so lucky." Erin opens the door, foot in place to hold it open, "I hope you have a safe flight back to New York," he scoffs because he doesn't believe her, "I think it's best if both of us move on in our separate ways, delete each other's numbers and just forget."

"...and if I don't?"

"Eric," the frown lines deepened on her forehead, "hadn't I suffered enough? Have you ever entertained that question? Even if I did send that email, wanting you back, you never thought to yourself, hey self, I put Erin through enough already, I'm not good for her, we're not good for each other, I'll stay out of her life because I know that's what's best for her. Has that thought ever crossed your mind?"

The answer he gives isn't direct, instead it's a roundabout way of saying no, "...and if I don't?"

Heart to hearts do not work with narcissistic people. She forgets. Instead, she tries to inhale but she can't breathe, instead she clenches her shoulders up before slowly relaxing them, " Then I will personally come back to New York and do everything in my power to get the case opened back up," and just when he opens his mouth, prepared to argue her down, she stops him, "save it. I don't care about you denying it, you deny everything. According to you, you never do anything wrong, it's always my fault, I'm delusional to even consider you can do something so bad, I know the spill already Eric, I told you this, you've drilled it into my head to the point where I won't or can't forget it. You were involved. I'll reiterate the story to you again. I broke up with you, you didn't like that, you paid some guys to mimic a break in knowing that I'd either be home or coming home and you told them to rough me up but not kill me. It was personal; it's why they didn't steal one thing from my place. You knew I'd come running back to you and I foolishly did, you just didn't bank on me being so traumatized to the point where it changed me. You couldn't handle the traumatized version of me and you got the last laugh and left. I'll tell that story over and over to you again until you realize that I know the truth and you denying it won't change my mind."

To her surprise, he's speechless, damn near mute. And that confirms her suspicions even more. He doesn't say anything because there is nothing left to be said. She shuts the door on his face and locks it. The silence is deadly, it's looming and she hadn't realized that in her entire speech, she didn't breathe. Not once. She lets a breath out now, one that becomes the catalyst for many as she starts to hyperventilate. Her legs weaken, leading her to lean against the front door. She slides down it, drawing her knees to her chest as her increased breathing only continues to speed up. Her head falls to her lap and her eyes close, holding back tears that desperately need to fall.

Blood pounded in her ears. Tears swell up in her eyes. Milo was barking but it sounds muffled to her, like she's underwater. She's drowning in a sea of emotions. She was prepared this time, she initiated the invite but coming this close to a confirmation that the man she entrusted set her up felt like a weight being dropped on her at the same time as a weight being lifted off of her. It's no longer blurred lines, it's no longer sitting in this area of gray of whether or not he actually played a role, she can no longer live in denial. The confirmation was there, it was looking at her straight in the face, if his gaze didn't give it away then the fact that he was handing her his phone and wanting that to be an act of peace did. Erin leans her head back, lifting it off her lap and resting the back of it against the door. Milo isn't barking anymore, a worried whimper took the place of it. He gets as close to her as possible, licks her cheek causing one of her fallen tears to be wiped away and then he sits down, resting his head on her chest, hoping his presence and his warmth would soothe her. And when she lifts her hand, rubbing it slowly along his back while leaning her own head against the top of his, he gets the peace of mind that it did.