The Banister
The house felt strangely quiet after the near-constant shouting of the past few days. She felt empowered, almost, finally having the courage to stand up to Phil. Maybe it was the time she’d been spending with Holtzmann that had given her a bit more confidence than usual.
Her fight with Phil had been about anything and everything, all that had been building up for months. He was angry that she never told him anything. She was angry that he was never around. It felt cathartic to get it out in the open, and if she was being honest, it was the most they’d spoken in a while. Communication was good, right? It was progress.
Or at least, she thought it was, but after the dust settled, nothing seemed to change. Here she was, a few days after the bulk of the fight, and once again Phil was working late. He was always working late. The day Holtz had come over to fix the sliding door, Erin hadn’t expected Phil to be home until at least 9:00pm. Not that she’d scheduled the appointment with that in mind…she’d just gotten accustomed to him being gone when Holtz was over. He’d just gotten home ten minutes before Holtz had shown up, saying his meeting was cancelled, so she didn’t have any time to phone Holtz and cancel. Not that she had any reason to cancel. She didn’t know Phil was going to blow up like that, and he had no right. If he wasn’t going to be around, she had every right to hire whomever she pleased.
Well, probably not a prostitute, but the point stood.
The banister at the bottom of the staircase had been wiggly for months, and every time Erin came downstairs she felt it loosen (and loosen her patience along with it). She was one step away from pulling a George Bailey the next time it happened, so she decided to get it fixed once and for all.
Seeing Holtz again couldn’t hurt either. They hadn’t had a real chance to talk ever since their conversation outside with the gutters, and she was sure that the whole thing with Phil had probably only increased the tension between them.
“Yo, earth to Erin. You in there?”
Erin snapped out of her train of thought to see Patty waving at her from across the staff room table.
“Sorry, just thinking.”
“Well, think on your way back to class. Lunch is over.”
“Crap, it is?” Erin stared down at her uneaten sandwich.
“You didn’t hear the bell?” Abby said from across the room as she poured coffee into a to-go mug. “You’re not daydreaming about Kevin again, are you?”
Erin snorted. “God, no. I’ve moved on from that.”
“To someone else? Lord, please tell me it’s your fiancé for once.”
Erin blushed as she packed up her lunch kit. “Of course.”
“Dreaming about your wedding?” Patty teased.
The three of them exited the staff room and pushed their way through the crowds of teenagers on their way to class.
“Yeah, that’s…right.”
Patty departed in the direction of her classroom and Erin and Abby continued on.
“How is lover-boy?”
Erin glanced at her, remembering that for all intents and purposes, Abby was the best friend she had. “I haven’t seen a lot of him. He’s been working late at the office for months, ever since the promotion. Lots of late meetings and stuff.”
Abby pulled a face. “He needs to make time for you.”
“It’s his job, Abby, it’s not like he can say no.”
“He’s the boss now, right?”
“Head of his department,” Erin corrected sullenly.
“So he has some sway. Bet he doesn’t have to schedule meetings so late.”
This was starting to remind her of her fight with Phil. She’d told him that, too, but he’d insisted that he had no control over them. “I guess,” she replied to Abby’s remark.
They’d reached Abby’s turnoff for the gymnasium.
“Hey, you’re coming to the staff social on Friday, right? Don’t make me haul you there over my shoulder. I’ll do it.”
“I can’t, it’s my five-year anniversary with Phil.”
“Boooo. Next time!” Abby shouted back as she disappeared down the hallway.
Erin reached her own classroom and slipped inside. She set her lunch kit down on her desk and sat down with a sigh.
New semester, new students who didn’t give a crap about learning to graph an asymptote. Really, she couldn’t blame them.
***
“You sure it’s wise for me to come over?”
Erin shifted the phone to her other ear. “Please, Holtz? This knob is driving me crazy.”
“That’s what she said.”
“Holtz, seriously. Phil won’t be home.”
“Why should that change my mind?”
“Because you don’t have to witness another uncomfortable fight. Come on, will you do it, or should I find someone else?”
A pause, and then a drawn-out sigh. “Be there in twenty.”
***
Erin could tell when she opened the door that Holtzmann was on edge. It was the way she shifted back when the door swung open, like she was ready to bolt if Phil was on the other side again.
She was all business as she stepped past Erin and moved to the bottom of the stairs to jostle the banister.
“Listen, Holtz,” Erin began.
Holtz held up a hand without looking at Erin. “Let’s just not talk about it, okay? What goes on in your life isn’t my business.”
“Right,” Erin said stiffly. So, there was even more tension between them than she’d anticipated. “In that case, I’m going to go watch TV in the living room. Give me a shout when you’re done. No running off without your cheque this time. Still gotta pay you for…last time.”
Holtzmann grunted in response.
Erin sighed and retreated to the living room. She sunk into the couch and flicked through channels until she happened to stumble across an X-Files rerun. She pulled her knees to her chest in a move that made her feel strangely childlike, thoughts of her first encounter with Holtzmann filling her head. She tried to lose herself in the show, but her mind kept wandering back.
“Is this the one with the treeple?”
Erin jumped and spun her head so fast it was a wonder her neck didn’t snap. Holtzmann was leaning nonchalantly in the archway separating the entrance from the living room.
“The what?” she replied meekly.
“Tree people. Treeple. They probably have an actual name, but that’s what I like to call them. It’s the episode where they get stuck in the woods, right? Scully sings to Mulder after he gets injured.”
Erin glanced back at the TV and remembered what she was watching. “Oh, yeah, I think you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.”
“They’re not tree people, though. That implies they either live in or are made of trees. They just camouflage to their surroundings.”
“Ehhhh, don’t question the treeple. I know what I’m talking about.”
“You sure about that?” Erin teased. She’d missed this, the banter, and she could feel herself getting sucked into it again. Why was this so easy?
“Oh, I’m sure.”
“Prove it,” Erin said boldly, and patted the couch beside her.
In a flash, the easy-going smirk on Holtzmann’s face disappeared and was replaced by a pained expression. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why?” Erin challenged. “I thought we talked about this? Why don’t you trust me?”
“It’s not—” Holtz broke off as quickly as she’d started and shook her head. “Never mind. Your banister is fixed. I should go now.”
Erin rose from the couch. “No, what were you going to say?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Erin.”
“Holtzmann.”
“It’s not you that I don’t trust,” Holtz said. “Okay?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Erin, you know what it means.”
“No, really, what does that mean? You mean you don’t trust yourself? Was your whole lesbian mistress thing all a bunch of BS?”
“No,” Holtz replied firmly. “I am not that dick who gets involved with a married, or soon-to-be married, woman. Never. And I hate, I hate, that you make me want to abandon those morals.”
“I didn’t—”
“Not on purpose, Erin, Jesus. You’re just too—” She gestured in a jumbled way— “fucking enticing. God, now who sounds like a fucking lesbian drama.” She sighed deeply and pressed her fingers to her temple. “I don’t want to get involved with you, Erin, and be the one who you cheat on your husband with, and I know you don’t want to either. But I can’t stop imagining all these fucking scenarios where you realize that he’s a dick and break things off and I know that’s bad, so bad to even be thinking about, because you’re happy with him and I barely even know you, but when you’re calling me over to your house every other day and sitting there in that cute little sweater and bantering with me about the goddamn X-Files, there’s just something about you that keeps drawing me in and I just—” She stopped abruptly, having finally seemed to realize everything that she’d just said.
The house felt quieter than ever with all that hanging in the air between them.
“What do you want from me?” Erin finally said, her voice shaky.
Holtz shook her head.
“You want me to break off a five year relationship for you?”
“I never said that.”
“You’ve been fantasizing about it.” Even saying the words out loud felt surreal. “Why would you tell me that?”
“You asked.” The two words were steeped in bitterness.
“That doesn’t mean I wanted to know the answer.”
“Oh come on, Erin. Don’t pull that shit. You know you’re just as responsible for all of this as I am. Don’t you dare pretend you aren’t.”
Erin sucked in a breath. “You’re right. And you know what, you were right before, too. You should go.”
Holtz’s jaw clenched. “Yeah, I guess I should.”
Erin looked at the floor. “I shouldn’t call you any more.”
“No.” Holtz’s voice was just as shaky. “I don’t think you should.”
“I’m sorry, Holtz.” Erin hoped she could convey everything with those words. “If the circumstances were different—”
“Nope, don’t even—don’t even go there.”
“You’re right.”
“I’m leaving now,” Holtz said.
“Let me write you your cheques.” Erin walked to the kitchen and wrote them out, then met Holtz in the entranceway.
“I’m sorry,” Erin said again.
“Yeah, me too.”
“If…if anything changes…”
“I think it’s better if you don’t finish that sentence.”
“Okay,” Erin replied, so quiet Holtz may have not even heard it.
Holtz took the cheques. “Bye, Erin.”
“Bye, Holtz.”
With that, the handyman left. Erin wandered back to the living room in a bit of a haze and dropped to the couch.
On screen, Scully was singing.
Erin began to cry.