Free Drain You by M. Beth Bloom

they dropped in the return slot. Without even dumb busywork to distract myself, I could already tell this shift was going to drive me nuts. I tried to just zone out and straighten boxes and wait for that occasional customer who actually asked a question to my face.
    Normally when I worked with Morgan I never took a break, because the whole thing was a break. But with Morgan gone I racked my brain for a legit excuse to take fifteen in Jerry’s office.
    I went to the counter where Alex was standing and said, “Hey, can I check the calendar in the back for second? I might need to move a shift.”
    Alex waved me to go ahead without even paying attention. Whatever. Morgan had to come back to workat some point. He couldn’t call in sick for a month. If I had to spend the rest of my summer stuck alone here with Alex—or worse, Jerry—I’d quit. I’d take that temp job at the Times my parents were always encouraging me to consider. I’d wear panty hose and sensible work apparel. I’d get rides to the office with my father.
    Hold it. No way. Not in this reality.
    I dialed Morgan’s number.
    “Hello?” He sounded annoyed already.
    “Hi, dude.”
    “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you at work?”
    “Yes. Without you . You know, you totally could’ve worked today, nothing happened. It’s like, not even a thing, I promise.”
    “Oh, you’re kidding , right?”
    I was making it worse, and about to make it the worst: “Morgan, you know you’re amazing.”
    “I don’t have to listen to this.”
    “But think about if you even really like me. I mean, in your mind you could have just created this spark that you don’t even feel. Like maybe it’s just that I’m always around, sometimes half-naked, super needy, and you just…sort of…made the wrong connection. Out of boredom. Totally normal.”
    “You’re unreal,” he said, as if amused.
    “Morgan, listen. We have this unspoken thing. So, it’slike you can’t speak it. You can’t say it out loud. It’s an undercurrent. It’s not understandable to us.”
    “I do not have to listen to this.”
    “Morgan, let’s just forgive each other. Please.”
    “You’re the one who’s bored.”
    “I know.” I knew.
    “You’re the one who can’t understand it.” He was raising his voice. “You’ll end up kissing me one night during count-out just to have something to do. Then I’ll have to forgive you for using me and you can forgive me for taking advantage of you.”
    Silence.
    I wanted to deny it but couldn’t. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands. Morgan mattered to me; he always had. I couldn’t lose him. It was my most selfish and darkest secret. I never wanted to hear him say he loved me, but I had to believe he felt it. My breathing was ragged, my crying audible, but he said nothing.
    “I’ll quit,” I said. “You’ll never have to be alone with me again.”
    “No, you won’t,” Morgan said, and sighed, but he wasn’t saying it to cheer me up. He was reasoning with himself.
    “Can’t everything just be the same? If you think maybe I’ll come around one day, then can’t you just come back to work so we can hang out and go back to normal?”
    I didn’t know what I was saying. I was scum, the lowest, and no one was there to slap me or smack the phone out of my hand.
    “You’re a brat.”
    And then, guided by nothing, prompted by no one, I became the lamest person alive: “You know who’s really cute, and cooler than me, and has a better body and would be totally into you?”
    Total, awful silence.
    “Naomi Sheets,” I said.
    “Quinn. You’re a psycho.”
    More tears fell out of my eyes. “I know. I know.”
    “I’m hanging up now.”
    “You should.”
    He did.
    Whatever real love I had for Morgan—no matter how skewed and small and mostly self-serving—I had to force myself to let it go. And even though it made no sense, I had to cry a little longer for Morgan. Right then Alex opened the office door and saw my face, puffy