'No,' he says. 'She understands that I mean it. I called my parents and told them. And she and I are calling her parents together tonight. She says she wants me to tell them… and then we'll call everyone else.' There is a catch in his voice, and for a second I wonder if he might cry.
I say that I'm sorry. I don't know what else to say. I can't digest this information quickly enough. I want to kiss him, to thank him, to smile. But I can't. It doesn't seem appropriate.
He nods, runs his hands through his hair, and then returns them to his lap. 'It's hard, but I feel this tremendous load lifted. It's the right thing.'
He looks at me, and I hold his gaze before I kiss him. As his arms encircle me, I think, This is real. Then I slowly relax into him, feeling happy and whole for the first time in what feels like forever. There was always a deep calm missing before, even during our July Fourth weekend together. We now have time. All kinds of time. Maybe even forever.
I wonder what it will be like without Darcy in the picture. Will making love be different? I am about to find out because Dex is unbuttoning my shirt. My heart is pounding as we move over to my bed, where we undress.
'I missed you, Rachel,' he says. I can feel his heart beating against mine.
And then Jose interrupts, buzzing me, once, twice. I go to answer him, assuming that it is a package or dry cleaning, or something that he forgot to tell me about. I will tell him that I will get whatever it is later. But it is not a package. It is Darcy. And she has heard my voice over the intercom.
'Tell her I will be right down!' I say.
'Already on her way up!' Jose practically sings the news. Clearly he has no idea that Darcy's arrival means that my first guest and I are screwed. Then again, maybe he does know. Maybe doormen, even the ones who pretend to be your friend, secretly delight in any tenant drama.
'Oh shit!' I say, standing up and looking around. 'She's coming up! Shit!'
Dex is calm, puts his boxers back on. He walks swiftly over to my linen closet and opens the door, carrying his jeans and T-shirt. The shelves line the closet the whole way to the bottom. No good.
'Get in the other one. The other closet!' I point, frantic and wild-eyed.
He walks around the corner and opens my other closet. There is room in this one. He crouches next to my hamper, holding his clothes. I shut the closet door just as I hear her knock.
'Coming!' I shout.
I throw my underwear back on and open the door. 'Sorry. I was just changing.'
'Omigod. Thank God you're back,' she says.
I ask her what's wrong before I realize that she looks and sounds fine. No bloodshot eyes, no running mascara, no dejected gaze. Darcy moves into my apartment as I babble that I just arrived home and wanted to change into something more comfortable. I put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.
She still says nothing.
'So. Six days to go. You must be going crazy!' I laugh nervously. 'Well, I'm here to help now. At your service. To help with any last-minute details for your wedding.'
'There isn't going to be a wedding.' She sniffs.
'What?' I gasp, widen my eyes, step toward her. Right as I am about to offer my full sympathy, I remember that I'm not supposed to know who called it off. So I ask.
'It was mutual.'
'Mutual?' I ask, my voice louder.
I lead Darcy over to my bed and sit down. The closet is next to the bed. I want Dex to hear everything. Mutual? Dex said he did it. If it were mutual, or if she said it first, then perhaps it doesn't mean quite as much as I thought it did. Of course, I will still be happy. But I want this choice to be Dex's. Now I want to be the reason.
'Well. Technically Dexter was the one. He told me this morning that he couldn't go through with it. That he doesn't think he loves me.' She rolls her eyes and smiles an ironic smile. I wish that Dex could see the look on her face. She no more believes that he doesn't love her than she believes that I could be capable of hiding a half-naked Dex in my closet.
'You're kidding me? This is crazy. How do you feel?'
Darcy looks down at her feet. Now she will start to cry. And I will comfort her and tell her that it will all be okay. Then I will suggest that we go for a little walk. Get some fresh air, even though it is disgustingly humid outside. Maybe I will suggest dinner. Her choice. A burger and fries now that there is no dress to fit into.
But still, Darcy does not cry. She takes a deep breath. 'Rachel… I have something to tell you.' Her voice is calm. She is not following the 'I've just been dumped' script. Something is going on. For a second I think that she is going to tell me that she knows everything, that she understands, that true love must prevail, and that she sees clearly that Dex and I should be together.
'Yeah?' I ask, confused.
'This is very hard for me to tell you. Even harder than when I got into Notre Dame,' she continues.
This is the first time she has brought up Notre Dame since college-which is crazy, considering my recent revelation. The conversation is definitely not making sense. Maybe she is going to confess that she, too, got rejected. That all her life she has been competing with me. And that she is finally acknowledging defeat.
'Do you remember when I told you about losing my ring?'
'Yeah?'
'How I lost it in my colleague's apartment?'
Now I am really confused. Dex must be even more confused. I am glad that I never told him how she really lost her ring. He canceled the wedding even without that information.
'How I hooked up with that guy and lost the ring?'
It's like a Three's Company episode where Jack and Chrissy are talking, and Janet is hiding somewhere listening to the conversation, full of misunderstandings and double meanings. I remember the close-ups of Janet's face, shocked and indignant. But there is no confusion here in my studio. There is only one meaning, and Dex is getting it right: she hooked up with someone else. Why didn't you tell me? he will ask me, perhaps accusatorily. It would have made everything so much easier, he will say. I will tell him that I didn't think it was right to sway him. Maybe it will make me look noble, and Darcy all the more wrong for him.
'Well, I didn't really hook up with a guy from work.' She speaks slowly, enunciating every syllable.
'You didn't lose your ring?'
Is she about to confess to insurance fraud?
'The guy I was with wasn't a guy from work. It was someone else.'
'Who was it?'
'It was Marcus,' she says.
'Marcus?' I am floored.
'Your Marcus. Yes.'
Of course. My Marcus. The Marcus I had to fly across the Atlantic to get over.
'Do you hate me?' she asks soulfully. 'Please say something.'
'You were with Marcus the day you lost your ring? You lost it in his apartment?' I am clarifying for myself and Dexter.
She nods. Then there is a fleeting second when she looks at me sideways-a brightening in her eyes, a slight upward movement in the corners of her mouth. She is enjoying this. This is her moment to shock. Shock and shine. Win again.
I give her what she wants. Pretend to be defeated. The gracious loser again.
'So you slept with him?' I keep my voice just south of accusatory, on the hurt side.
'Yes.'
'More than once?'
'Yes,' she whispers so softly that I know Dex can't hear her answer.
So I ask loudly and clearly, 'You did?'
'Yes,' she says.
I pretend to digest it all. Actually I am digesting it all. But on a level unknown to Darcy. 'So,' I say. 'So.'
I don't ask for further explanation, but she gives it to me anyway. 'It all started over the July Fourth weekend. We came back from the Talk-house, loaded. And one thing led to the other.'
