Fourth Comings_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [104]
Message Number Two
“Jess. Um. Hey there. It’s, um…Len again. I got cut off. Anyway, um. So I was saying that Manda said she wanted to have sexual relations with me. And I didn’t know what else to say, so I, um…told her I was celibate. Which, um…I am…um…not. And then she started going on about how you must have been, um…well, I don’t need to get into detail, but she was describing your capacity for physical intimacy in not-so-generous terminology. And, um…I just didn’t agree with her, but I didn’t…um…say anything to refute her accusations either because it seemed like the best course of action, the easiest way to extricate myself from the conversation and from her life forever. But in doing so, in taking the cowardly, non-confrontational way out, I did you a disservice, and I am truly sorry. I don’t want you to think that our one night together had traumatized me in any way. In fact, it was quite nice and I don’t look upon it with regret at all. Well, um…that’s not entirely true. I sort of regret it because it—”
Message Number Three
“Jess. Um. Hey there. It’s, um…Len again. I got cut off. Um. Again. This is just like that movie. What is it? I wish Camilla were here; she would know. Camilla is my girlfriend. Did you know that? She’s great. So great. Um. I was saying that the only regret that I had about that night in the basement of Wally D’s Sweet Treat Shoppe is that it kind of, maybe I shouldn’t even say this, but why not? We’re both happy in our relationships now. It made me realize how much more I should have appreciated you when we dated in high school. Like, we should have had sex in high school. It would have been the first time for both of us. And maybe, I don’t know, maybe things would have turned out differently. I would have never left you for Manda and, well, it’s so easy to romanticize what never was. Not in this particular dimension of the multiverse, anyway. Ha-ha. Remember that conversation we had that time about the multiverse? It was the afternoon after…So I’m working with theorists who are using quantum equations to prove that the concept of time is an elaborate illusion. Our universe might be like an enormous hologram that only appears to be three-dimensional. It’s complicated, and your eyes are glazing over just listening to me. I don’t want to get cut off again and I’m talking too fast and I think I’ve said too much already. I’m gonna go. If you ever want to talk, you should call me. Or text or…Maybe you shouldn’t. You don’t have to. Um…Okay. Tell Marcus I said—”
As Manda listened to these increasingly urgent messages, she tried—and failed—to arrange her face into an impassive expression. The longer she listened to Len’s voice, the more strained and artificial she appeared. I almost felt sorry for her. I came close to pointing out the obvious, that Len’s confessional phone calls to me meant about as little as hers to him, all being born out of nostalgia and misdirected longing. But then I remembered her role as the gleeful instigator behind my current estrangement with Hope and I didn’t feel the least bit bad.
When Len was finished talking, Manda snapped my phone shut and tossed it back to me in silence. She then snatched up her own cell phone off the IKEA coffee table and started scrolling through her text messages.
Dexy was beside herself with curiosity. She was bouncing up and down, dangerously so, in her platform sandals. “Was Len before or after Marcus?”
“During,” Manda responded tartly, still concentrating on her phone. She was now scowling at something