Something Blue

'You're fine to stay,' Jan said.

'Told ya,' I said to him. And then to Jan, 'He feels all awkward.'

'Well, he shouldn't. It's great that he's so involved.'

'Yeah-we're not married yet,' I said. 'But he's still very into it.'

Jan smiled and told me to change into the gown on the table, she'd be right back. As soon as she left, I asked Marcus if he thought our doctor was pretty.

'She's all right,' he said. 'Cute, I guess.'

'How old would you say she is?'

'Twenty-eight?' he asked.

'Am I prettier?'

'Yes, Darce. You're prettier.'

'Will I still be prettier when I'm twenty pounds heavier?'

'Yes,' he said, but without much conviction.

Tan returned right as I was getting settled on the table. She took my blood pressure and then examined my heart, breasts, and lungs. 'Now I'm going to examine your cervix.'

'Does that confirm the pregnancy?'

'Well, we're going to give you a blood and urine test for that, but yes, this will give us further information about the approximate age of the pregnancy, as well as help us assess the size and shape of your pelvis.'

I nodded.

'Now, just relax,' Jan said.

I let my knees fall apart. 'No problem,' I said, looking past her at Marcus, who was clearly pretending that he was somewhere else.

After the physical examination was complete, I dressed, went to the bathroom, and peed into a cup, got my blood drawn in a small lab, and returned to the exam room, where Jan told me she'd be in touch with the results of my blood work.

'In the meantime, Darcy, I'm going to give you a prescription for prenatal vitamins. They contain folic acid. It is extremely important for your baby's spinal cord development. You're going to want to take them on a full stomach.' She wrote out the prescription in uncharacteristically neat handwriting for a doctor (another bad sign-real doctors should be messy) and handed it to me. 'So congratulations to both of you. We'll see you in another four weeks for your first ultrasound.'

Marcus and I shook Jan's hand and then headed off to Duane Reade to fill my prescription. For some reason, I remember that five-block walk well. It was a brilliant fall day-brisk but sunny, the sky bright blue and filled with cotton-candy clouds. I remember cinching my blue suede trench coat around my still tiny waist and skipping a few steps, feeling little-girl happy. As we waited at a crosswalk, Marcus took my hand without being prompted and smiled at me. That smile of his is frozen in my mind. It was warm and generous and sincere. It was the kind of smile a man gives you when he's happy to be with you, happy to be marrying you, happy that you are pregnant with his child.

eleven

My apartment's contents hadn't been too depleted when Dex moved out, but he had taken our kitchen table, two lamps, and a dresser. I was thrilled to see them all go, especially the rustic pine table that looked as if it belonged in an Amish home. I planned on going for a sleeker, more contemporary look that would complement the slick high-rise apartment with a view that Marcus and I would purchase together. Good riddance to Dexter's traditional taste, his insistence on prewar buildings long on charm and short on closet space.

So about two weeks after what would have been my wedding day, I dragged Marcus on a furniture-shopping expedition. We took the subway uptown to Fifty-ninth and Lex and walked over to Crate and Barrel on Madison Avenue. As we pushed open the glass doors, I felt a surprising wave of sadness, remembering my last visit to the store, when Dex and I had registered for wedding gifts. I shared the memory with Marcus, who had developed a pat response to such recollections.

'Ahh. The good ol' days,' he said, as he followed me to the second floor. At the top of the stairs, I admired an oblong cherry table with tapered legs. It was exactly what I had in mind for our table, but never imagined I would find it so easily. I swept my hand across the smooth surface. 'This is perfect. Do you like it? What do you think? Picture it with upholstered chairs. Something in lime green, perhaps?'

Marcus shrugged. 'Sure. Sounds good.' He was staring at something behind me. 'Um, Darcy… Rachel and Dex are here,' he said in a tone that made me know it was not a joke.

'What?' I froze, and my heart stopped for several seconds. Then it began to race, beating faster than it does after a spinning class. 'Where?' I whispered.

'At your nine o'clock. Over by that brown couch.'

I turned around slowly, cautiously. Sure enough, there to my left, less than thirty feet away, was the enemy, scrutinizing a chenille couch the color of baby poo. They both had the whole casual Saturday look going-jeans and tennis shoes. Dex had his standard Saturday gray Georgetown sweatshirt, and Rachel was wearing a navy blue BCBG sweater that I helped her pick out at Bloomingdale's last year. The weekend before Dex had proposed, to be exact. A lifetime ago.

'Oh shit! How do I look?' I fumbled for the compact tucked into the side pocket of my Prada bag, and remembered that at the last minute I had removed it to add more blush and left it on Marcus's coffee table. I had no mirror. Instead I had to rely on Marcus. 'How's my face?'

'You look fine,' Marcus said. His eyes darted back to Rachel and Dex.

'What do we do? Should we get out of here?' I said. My knees felt weak as I leaned on my prospective table. 'I think I'm gonna be sick.'

'Maybe we should go have a chat,' Marcus deadpanned. 'It'd be the well-adjusted, mature thing to do.'

'Are you crazy? I don't want to have a chat!'

Marcus shrugged. Dex had called Marcus a couple of days earlier to say 'no hard feelings and congratulations on the baby.' They had both glossed over the details, neither of them uttering my name or Rachel's. Marcus said the conversation was awkward, but had lasted fewer than three minutes. He said there was a tacit understanding that the friendship was over; even for guys, our situation was too much to get past.

'Okay, Darce. Let's get outta here,' Marcus said. 'I'm not in the mood for a reunion either.' He pointed behind me at the staircase leading to the ground floor. We had an easy escape route. Clearly, we hadn't been spotted yet. Dex and Rachel were cheerfully chatting away, completely oblivious to the furniture-shopping coincidence of the century.

I wanted to turn and walk down the stairs, but I couldn't make myself go. It was like watching a gruesome scene in a scary movie. You don't want to see the girl get decapitated, but somehow, you always part your fingers to sneak a peek. I hid behind a bookcase and pulled Marcus down next to me. We watched Rachel and Dex stand and wander over to another couch, slightly closer to us. This one was boxier than the first, and as far as I was concerned, the better choice. Dex studied it and then made a face. It was too modern for him. I translated what had just transpired for Marcus. 'See, he doesn't like clean lines. See?'

'Darcy, I don't give a shit about the couch they buy.'

'They buy?You mean you think it's a joint purchase?'

'They buy. He buys. She buys,' Marcus said, as if conjugating a verb in French class.

'Does she look good? Do they look happy?'

'Come on, Darce. Let's just go,' he said.

I kept staring at them, my insides churning.

'Tell me,' I demanded. 'Does she look prettier than usual? Thinner maybe?' We watched Rachel and Dex return to their boring, brown couch. She sat and reclined smugly. Then she looked up at Dex and said something. His back was to us, but I could see him nod, run his fingers along the back of the couch. Then he stooped to flip through a book of color swatches on a coffee table next to the couch.