Something Blue

corner back to Ethan's flat, I felt inexplicably wistful, almost sad. I felt my baby kick again, and I confided in her, whispering, 'Ethan has a girlfriend. And I don't know why that upsets me.'

I didn't see Ethan until much later that night when he finally returned to the flat, sans Sondrine. I was sprawled on his couch, half-asleep, waiting for him with a pit in my stomach as I listened to a Norah Jones CD.

'What time is it?' I asked.

'Tenish,' he said, standing over me. 'Have you eaten?'

'Yes,' I said. 'You?'

He nodded.

'Where've you been?' I asked, feeling like a suspicious wife who just found a smear of pink lipstick on her husband's starched white shirt.

'Writing.'

'Sure you were,' I said, trying to sound nonchalant and playful.

'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked, motioning for me to move over and clear a space for him.

I lifted my legs long enough for him to sit and then rested my feet on his thighs. 'It means, were you really writing or were you hanging out with Sondrine?' I asked the question in the singsongy way that kids say, 'Ethan and Sondrine sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!'

'I really was writing,' he said innocently. Then he tried to change the subject by asking what I did with my day.

'I looked for a job. Called some places. Surfed the Net.'

'And?'

'All to no avail,' I said. 'Very frustrating… So what's the deal with Son-drine?' I pronounced her name as un-Frenchy as possible, making the word sound clunky and unattractive.

'She's cool. Fun to hang out with.'

'Don't play dumb with me, Ethan.'

He gave me a quizzical look.

'Is she your girlfriend or what?'

He yawned and stretched. 'No, she's not my girlfriend.'

'But you're her petit chou.' I grinned.

'What?'

'I heard her on the phone talking to you right before you showed up at the Muffin Man. She called you her petit chou.'

'You're too much,' Ethan said, smiling.

'By the way, are you aware that a chou is a cabbage?' I asked, rolling my eyes. I had looked the word up on the Internet as soon as I had returned to the flat, and could not believe that she was using such a dumb pet name.

Ethan shrugged. 'I had no idea. I took Spanish. Remember?'

'Too bad for you.'

'Why?'

'Because your girlfriend's French, that's why.'

'She's not my girlfriend, Darce,' Ethan said unconvincingly. 'We've just gone out a couple of times.'

'When was that?'

'Once last week… and then today.'

'Was last week a dinner date?' I asked, trying to remember which nights Ethan had stayed out late.

'No. We met for lunch.'

'Where?'

'At a bistro in Notting Hill.'

'Did you go dutch?'

'No. I paid… Is your inquisition almost over?'

'I guess so. I just don't get why you didn't tell me about her.'

He shrugged. 'I don't know why I didn't mention her. It's really not a big deal,' he said, as he kneaded my left heel and then my right. I couldn't remember the last time someone had given me a foot massage. It felt better than an orgasm. I told Ethan this. He gave me a proud smile that I translated as: 'You've never had an orgasm with me.' An image of Ethan and Sondrine, naked and sweaty, popped into my head. I pictured them postcoitus, sharing a cigarette. She had to be a smoker with that raspy voice.

'So tell me about her,' I probed.

'There's not much to tell… I met her at the Tate Gallery. We were both there to see this exhibit,' he said as he made a fist and rolled it along my arches.

'So what, did you meet in front of a painting?' I asked, thinking of my own trip to the National Gallery with Ethan and wondering why he hadn't invited me to the Tate.

'No. We met in the cafe at the museum. She was behind me in line. I got the last free table. She asked if she could join me,' he said. I could hear the story being retold later, whenever anyone asked how they had met. I could see Sondrine linking her arm through his, concluding the tale with a coy, 'He got the last Caesar salad and the last table!'

'What a sweet story,' I said.

He ignored my sarcasm. 'And then we walked around the museum together afterward.'

The whole thing was a little too close to my Alistair fantasy for comfort. I swallowed, trying to identify the knotted feeling in my chest. It felt like envy and worry and loneliness all blended together.

I formulated a dozen more questions but decided against asking any of them. I had heard enough. Instead we just listened to Norah Jones. Ethan's eyes were closed, his hands still on my feet when he finally spoke. 'You looked really pregnant in the Muffin Man today,' he said.

'You mean fat?' I asked, thinking of Sondrine's delicate bird wrists. I was downright sturdy next to her.

'Not fat. Pregnant.'

'Pregnant and fat,' I said.

He shook his head, opened his eyes, and gave me a funny look. 'No. Pregnant and radiant.'

I felt all tingly and knew that I was beaming. I thanked him, feeling shy.

Ethan kept looking at me with concentration, the way you study someone when you're trying to place them, remember their name. He finally said, 'You really do have that glow.'

'Thank you,' I said again. Our eyes locked for a second, and then we both looked away at the same time.

There was no more conversation for a long time after that. Then Ethan suddenly turned to me and said, 'Darce, I was wondering… why did you go to the nursing home today?'

'I told you-to get a job,' I said.

'I know. But why a nursing home when you have a public relations background?'

'Because I want to help people. Be more compassionate and stuff.'

Ethan chuckled and shook his head. 'You're such a little extremist, aren't you?'

'What do you mean? You're the one who said I needed to change. Be a less shallow person and all that,' I said, realizing how very much I wanted him to recognize the effort I was making.

'You don't have to change everything about yourself, Darce. And you certainly don't need to go working in a nursing home to be a good person.'

'Well, it's a good thing. Because I didn't get hired.' I smiled. 'And to be perfectly honest, I don't particularly want to work with old people.'

'Yeah. You don't have to be a martyr. Just find an enjoyable job and make a little loot. If you can add some value to the world in the process, all the better. But you have to be yourself.'

'Be myself, huh?' I said with a smirk.

'Yeah,' he said, grinning as he stood and walked toward his bedroom. 'It ain't all bad.'