Page 67 of Faultlines

What are you doing this weekend?

Brooke: I’m going to need a little more context.

Come with me to Seattle. I’m going to a conference.

The silence that follows is heavy, punctuated only by the distant wail of a siren, its sound fading like a bad dream. No response appears. I felt a prickle of sweat on my forehead.

Brooke?

Brooke: I saw your message.

Then say something.

Brooke: Are you out of your mind?

Probably.

The response takes so long that I check twice to make sure the message actually sent. Then the three dots appear, stop, appear again. I set the phone face-down, pick it up again immediately.

Brooke: You’re not making this easy.

I read her words and a silent plea forms in my mind.

Neither are you.

A nearby clock measures every agonizing second waiting for a response. Finally⁠—

Brooke: Let me think about it.

That’s not a no.

All day, I smile, a strange, almost manic grin that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. I leave the office that evening, the automatic doors hissing shut behind me. I’ve registered, booked the hotel, and mapped the drive. Each step, each click on the keyboard, should make me reconsider what I’m doing, but every completed reservation makes the trip feel more inevitable, each one a door swinging shut behind me.

When I walk through the front door, the familiar scent of garlic and roasted vegetables hits me. Claire looks up when I enter the kitchen. “How was your day?”

“Busy.” My voice sounds flat, even to my own ears.

I pour myself a glass of water, the ice clinking. I take a long swallow while searching for the right words to begin.

“There is something I wanted to talk to you about,” I finally say.

She gives me her full attention, setting down her pen. “Okay.”

“There’s an architecture conference in Seattle this coming weekend.”

She looks surprised, a slight frown creasing her brow. “You want to go?”

I fight to keep my voice even. “It just seems like a good opportunity.”

She shrugs, a slight gesture. “You usually complain about conferences. You make them sound like a chore.”

I force a smile, but the muscles in my jaw feel tight. “This one is interesting.”

“What about the set?”

“There’s still time to get it done.”

“Okay.”