Something Blue - Emily Giffin [48]
Then one Saturday morning, after a doozy about baby names (he deigned to suggest the name Julie, when I knew that he had lost his virginity to a girl named Julie), Marcus kicked me out of his apartment, saying that he needed some time alone. So I left his place and went to Barneys, chalking it up to yet another lover's quarrel. Later that night, I expected him to call and apologize. But that didn't happen. In fact, he didn't call at all. Instead, I called him. Over and over. I left him angry messages. Then I left him threatening messages. And then I resorted to hysterical, pathetic, begging messages. When Marcus finally called me back, my venom and tears were gone. I only felt a cold uncertainty.
"Where have you been all weekend?" I asked, feeling pitiful.
"Thinking," he said.
"About us?" "Yup."
"What exactly were you thinking?" I asked. "Whether you want to be with me?"
"More or less…"
At that moment, I knew that Marcus had all of the power. Every drop of it. I thought of all the times I had dumped guys, particularly remembering my breakup speech with my high school boyfriend Blaine. I remember how he had asked, "I want to stay together and you want to break up? How come you get your way?"
"Because, Blaine," I had said. "That's just how it works. The person who wants out of the relationship always gets her way. It's definitional."
The sad truth of the statement hit me in the gut now. If Marcus wanted out, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop him.
I tried anyway, my voice shaking. "Marcus, please! Don't do this!"
"Look. We should talk face-to-face. I'll be over soon," he said.
"Are you going to break up with me? Just tell me now. Please!" I had waited for him all weekend, but the thought of waiting another twenty minutes was too much to bear.
"I'll be there soon," he said. His voice was flat, emotionless.
He arrived an hour later, wearing a Hooters T-shirt.
"You're dumping me, aren't you?" I asked, before he could even sit down.
He twisted the cap off a plastic bottle of Sprite, took a swig, and nodded twice.
"Omigod. I just can't believe this is happening. How can you dump me? I am pregnant with your baby! How can you do this?"
"I'm sorry, Darcy… but I just don't want to be with you."
It was the most surprising sentence I had ever heard. It was even more shocking than when Dex came out of the closet, so to speak. Perhaps because it was so utterly one-sided. I wanted Marcus. He did not want me. End of story.
"Why?" I asked. "Because of one fight?"
He shook his head. "You know it's not about any one fight."
"Then why?"
"Because I just can't ever see marrying you."
"Fine. We don't have to get married. We'll be like Goldie Hawn and what's his name?"
He shook his head again. "No."
"But I'm pregnant with your baby!"
"I know. And that's a problem." He raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "A problem with several different solutions."
"I've told you a million times, I'm not getting an abortion!"
"That's your decision, Darcy. Just like getting pregnant was your unilateral decision. Remember that?" he said angrily. "And now, here we are… and I just want you to have all the facts about the future—"
I interrupted him. "What does that mean?"
"It means I don't want to be with you, and I certainly don't want a kid. I'll help support it financially if you insist on having it, but I don't want to be… involved," he said, looking relieved. "At all."
"I don't believe what I'm hearing!"
"I'm sorry," he said, looking anything but sorry.
I begged. I cried. I pleaded. I promised that I would try harder.
Then he gave me the ultimate insult—"I'm just not that into you anymore"—before leaving my apartment.
It was Dex all over again. Only this time, I had no backup. No suitor waiting in the wings. I was, for the very first