Something Blue

I wasn't sure what a prat was, but I nodded empathetically and said, 'I know how that is!'

A few seconds of silence passed and I could tell that the girls were again wondering about my situation.

'I'm Darcy, by the way,' I said, with what I hoped was a disarming, 'I won't compete with you' smile.

'I'm Charlotte,' the blonde said.

'And I'm Meg,' the brunette said.

'It's so great to meet you both. I've been dying to have some female interaction since moving here,' I said. It was the truth, although I don't think I consciously realized it until that moment.

'When did you move to London?' Meg asked.

'About a month ago.'

'Did you move here alone?' she asked. It was as close as she could come to inquiring about the father of my child.

'Yes, I'm going it alone,' I said.

Meg and Charlotte both stared at me, with what I detected as admiration. I gave them a warm, open smile, tacit permission to inquire further, which they did, tentatively. I answered each of their questions, only embellishing occasionally. For example, I told them that I caught Rachel in bed with Dex-and I left out Marcus altogether, thereby implying that Dex was the father. It just seemed easier that way, and frankly, what was the difference at this point? Both men were out of the picture. My audience of two was riveted. Charlotte even ignored Natalie, who was gumming the corner of an Evening Standard. I continued my tale, telling them I had quit my job, and come to London to live with my childhood friend Ethan. 'He's straight, but we're just friends,' I told them. A gay friend might be more interesting, and certainly more entertaining, but there was something compelling about an aboveboard, straight male-female friendship. Besides, it gave me more credibility as a nice girl. I could hear them saying later, 'She's beautiful, but she doesn't go around stalking every available man.'

Charlotte asked if I had any interest in Ethan. I shook my head vigorously. 'Absolutely not… We're strictly friends. Although we did go out in the fifth grade!'

They laughed.

'So I'm entirely single… if you know anyone?' I said, fleetingly worrying that finding a man shouldn't be important to me. I dismissed the concern; a boyfriend needn't detract from my other, loftier goals.

Meg and Charlotte exchanged a thoughtful glance as if doing a mental inventory of all their male acquaintances.

'Simon?' Charlotte posited to Meg.

Meg made a face.

'You don't like Simon?' Charlotte asked her.

'I like Si well enough…' Meg said with a shrug.

I resisted the temptation to inquire about Simon's looks, but Meg seemed to read my mind because she giggled and said, 'I doubt that Darcy is attracted to gingers!'

'Meg!' Charlotte said, reminding me of Rachel. Rachel must have said 'Darcy!' in that same tone close to a million times. 'Besides, I'd say Si is more of a strawberry blonde.'

'He's a ginger and you know it!' Meg said, sipping her tea.

'What's a ginger?' I asked.

'You know, orange hair? I think you call it a 'redhead'?' Meg said.

I laughed. 'Oh. Right.'

'So? Do you like gingers?' Charlotte asked.

'Probably not my favorite,' I said diplomatically, rationalizing that chemistry is beyond one's control. And for a relationship to work, the chemistry has to be there.

'I suppose gingers aren't sought after on either side of the pond,' Meg opined.

Charlotte looked disappointed, so I said, 'But there are exceptions. Look at cute little Prince Harry. I like his devilish little smile. It depends entirely on personality.'

I couldn't help thinking of Marcus. It had been a misguided (to use Ethan's word) decision to start a relationship with him, a decision based largely on intrigue, lust, and competition with Rachel. But at least I wasn't driven by appearances. Marcus was far from perfect looking. So I knew I had it in me to look beyond the mere physical.

Charlotte smiled at me. 'Precisely,' she said, nodding. Then she turned to Meg. 'Why don't you invite Darcy to your party? Isn't Si coming?'

'What a fab idea! You must come, Darcy. I'm having a few friends over this Saturday night. Won't you join us?' Meg asked.

'I'd love to,' I said, thinking how satisfying it would be to tell Ethan I had been invited to a party by women. I took a mental inventory of my list. In just one short day, I had ticked off several items already. I had helped Ethan (by cleaning his apartment), I was being healthy (by not ordering a caffeinated beverage), and I had made a couple of new friends. I still needed to find a job and a doctor, so after a few more minutes of polite conversation, I asked Meg and Charlotte for a recommendation on both fronts.

'Oh, I have the perfect chap for you. Mr. Moore is his name,' Charlotte said, consulting her address book and jotting down his number on the back of one of her own calling cards. 'Here you go. Give him a ring. He's really lovely.'

'How come he goes by 'mister' and not 'doctor'?' I asked, feeling a bit skeptical about the British health care system.

Meg explained that in England only nonoperating physicians are called doctors-something that goes back to medieval times, when all surgeons were butchers and therefore mere misters.

'As for the job,' Charlotte said, 'what is it that you did in New York?'

'I worked in public relations… But I'm looking for something different here. Something that would help the poor, old, or sick,' I said earnestly.

'That is so nice,' Charlotte and Meg said in unison.

I smiled.

Meg told me that there was a nursing home right around the corner. She jotted down some directions on a napkin, and then wrote her own address and phone number on the other side. 'Do stop by on Saturday,' she said. 'We'd love to see you. And so would Si.' She winked.

I smiled, took my last sip of coffee, and said good-bye to my new friends.

That evening, when Ethan returned home, I was waiting for him with a homemade Greek salad, a glass of red wine, and softly playing classical music.

'Welcome home!' I said, smiling nervously as I handed him his glass.

He took it from me tentatively, sipped, and then looked around his apartment. 'It looks great in here. Smells good too. Did you clean?'

I nodded. 'Uh-huh. I scoured the place. I even cleaned your room,' I said, and then couldn't resist adding, 'Still think I'm a lousy friend?'

He took another sip and sat on his couch. 'I didn't say that exactly.'

I sat next to him. 'Yes you did.'

He gave me a half-smile. 'You can be a good friend when you try, Darce. You tried today. Thank you.'

The old me would have held out for an over-the-top apology coupled with a complete retraction and a small gift. But somehow Ethan's simple 'thank you' was enough for me. I just wanted to make up and move on.

'So guess what happened this morning?' I said, bursting to share my news with him. Before he could guess, I blurted out, 'I felt my baby kick!'

'Wow,' Ethan said. 'That was the first time you felt it?'

'Yeah. But I haven't felt her since. Should I be worried?'

Ethan shook his head. 'No. I remember when Brandi was pregnant… she would feel a kick one day and then nothing for several days. The doctor told her that when you're active, the baby is less likely to move around, because you're essentially lulling it to sleep,' he said with a somewhat pained expression, as if it still hurt to think of Brandi's betrayal.

'Does it make you sad to think about her?' I asked.