Perfect Fifths_ A Jessica Darling Novel - Megan McCafferty [11]
“I pity the British,” Marcus says before returning his attention to the Clear Sky Airlines customer service center. Jessica is no longer the last person on line—there’s a woman behind her—but no one has moved forward.
“I’m trying to help you here,” Natty says. “I was there when this girl fucked you up. I was there when you only got out of bed for class. I was the one who was nearly suffocated by the stank of your unwashed balls—”
“You take far too much pleasure in talking about my balls,” Marcus counters.
A bald (him) blue-haired (her) couple in their Boca Raton best has just hobbled up to the departures board. They harrumph over the use of such coarse language.
“I can’t help it,” Natty says to them with a mischievous grin. “I just love every inch of this man, especially his balls.”
The geriatrics scurry away as quickly as they possibly can, outraged at the crudity of youth.
“Testicles!” Natty shouts after them. “If you prefer the proper terminology!”
“Are you done talking about my balls, Brokeback?” Marcus asks.
Natty frowns, a gesture that takes a lot of effort from his freckled, preternaturally sunshiny face. “I wasn’t kidding, dude. I’ve got a whole heart full of nonsexual man love for you,” he says. “Which is why I am asking you to leave this airport with me right now. Take the train back to Princeton. We’ll head to Ivy Inn, toast a few rounds to our final semester, chat up some new lady friends, and forget that you ever saw the bitch—”
Marcus lunges. “Don’t ever call her that!” Natty is pinned against the wall by the menace in Marcus’s voice, the fury in his stare. Both men are staggered by Marcus’s feral instinct to protect and defend the only woman who doesn’t want his protection or defense.
“S-s-orry,” Natty stammers, still taken aback by this never-before-seen burst of violence from Marcus, a bona fide pacifist with whom he has never, not once, had a serious argument.
Marcus relaxes his stance, closes his eyes, shakes his head ruefully “My response had more to do with what’s fucked up about me than anything that’s fucked up about her.”
Natty parses that bit of inarticulation, amazed by his friend’s swift degeneration at the mere mention of her. “It’s just, well, I was there. I saw how long it took you to recover.”
“That’s just it, Natty” Marcus opens his eyes. “I’m not sure I ever did.”
Natty holds up his palms in surrender because there is no suitable response to this confession. Whether innate or the result of so many hours practicing meditation, Marcus’s single-mindedness is unrivaled and legendary, even on a campus with more than its share of freakish overachieving geniuses. When Marcus turns his annihilative attention to something—or someone—there is nothing else. He will not shift his focus until he has won the impossible bet, been awarded the impossible fellowship, bedded the impossible woman. Natty has no idea what Marcus ultimately seeks from Jessica Darling. He knows only that he doesn’t want to stick around long enough to see his infallible friend be defeated by her again.
“Dude,” Natty says, shouldering his bag and turning toward the signs pointing in the direction of the Air Train exit. “You need a roundhouse kick to the brain.”
“You wish you could kick that high, Booster Seat.”
Natty is marginally cheered by Marcus’s put-down. “Oh, fuck you, Professor.”
They stand face-to-face for a moment before Natty silently extends his fist. Marcus grabs him by the hand and pulls Natty to his chest for a backslapping bro hug.
“Yeah,” Marcus replies. “I love you, too.”
ten
Jessica is thinking about the wedding. Bridget and Percy liked how the numbers looked: 01/20/2010. All those zeroes, ones, and twos, nearly palindromic, only with a 20/20 in the center, “like perfect vision,” Percy said. Choosing to get married on this strange date—a Wednesday?, double-checked by all the invited guests after consulting their calendars—wasn’t just a fit of numerical whimsy. The date was a significant part of their romantic history.
“It’s the eighth anniversary of our first kiss,