Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [103]
"Thanks. You can send him up," I say into the speaker.
As I step into the hall to pay the delivery guy, my home phone rings. I panic. What if it is Dex? I thrust my bills at the guy and dash back inside, throw the bag on my coffee table, and lift up the phone right as the answering machine is about to click on. Sure enough, it's Dex.
"Hi," he says. "I'm so sorry I haven't called you today. It's been a nightmare of a day. Roger had me—"
"It's okay," I say, interrupting him.
"Can I come over? I wanna see you."
"Um, no," I say.
"I can't?"
"No…"
"Okay… Why?… Do you have company?" He lowers his voice.
"Yeah," I say, trying to monitor my tone of voice for both listening parties. "Actually I do."
I look at Darcy. She mouths, "Who is it?"
I ignore her.
"Okay… All right then… It's not Marcus, is it?" Dex asks.
"No… Darcy's here," I say.
"Ohhh. Shit. Good thing I called first," he whispers.
"So we'll talk tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he says. "Definitely."
"Sounds good."
"Who was that?" Darcy asks, as I hang up the phone.
"It was Ethan."
"Onion, was it Marcus?" she asks. "You can tell me."
"No, it really was Ethan."
"Maybe he's calling to tell you that he's gay."
"Uh-huh," I say, opening our cartons of food.
As we eat our Chinese food, I ask about Dex, how he is doing.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, does he suspect that anything is going on?"
She rolls her eyes. "No. He works too much."
I note that she does not change my word choice of "is going on" to "was going on."
"No?"
"No. He's just the same, normal old Dex."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. Why?" She opens her Sprite, sips from the can.
"I just wondered," I say. "I've read that when someone is cheating, the other person usually knows it on some deep, inner level."
She slurps wonton soup from her plastic spoon and looks at me blankly. "I don't believe that," she says.
"Yeah," I say. "I guess I don't either."
After we finish our dinner, I hold up two fortune cookies. "Which one do you want?"
She points to my left hand. "That one," she says. "And it better be good. I can't take more bad luck."
I feel like telling her that choosing to sleep with a coworker and carelessly leaving your ring behind in his apartment has nothing to do with luck. I pull the plastic wrapper off the stale cookie, crack it open, and silently read my sliver of paper. You have much to be thankful for.
"What's it say?" Darcy wants to know.
I tell her.
"That's a good one."
"Yeah, but it's not a fortune. It's a statement. I hate when they pass statements off as fortunes."
"Then pretend it says, 'You will have much to be thankful for,'" she says, opening her wrapper. "Mine better say, 'You will get your ring back from the Puerto Rican bitch.'"
She silently reads her fortune and then laughs.
"What?"
"It says, 'You have much to be thankful for.'… That's bullshit. Mass-produced fortunes!"
Yeah, and only one of us will have much to be thankful for.
Darcy tells me that she better get going, that she has to go face the music. She tears up again as she reaches for her purse. "Will you tell Dex for me?"
"Absolutely not. I'm not getting involved," I say, amusing myself with the absurdity of the statement.
"What do I say again?"
"That you lost it at the gym."
"Is there time to get a new one before the wedding?"
I tell her yes, realizing that she has not once expressed any sentimentality over the ring that Dexter picked for her.
"Rachel?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think I'm a terrible person? Please don't think I'm a terrible person. I have never cheated on him before. I'm not going to do it again. I really do love Dex."
"Okay," I say, wondering if she will do it again.
"Do you think I'm awful?"
"No, Darcy," I say. "People make mistakes."
"I know, that's what it was. A total mistake. I really, really regret it."
"You did use a condom?" I ask her.
I picture the chart in health class explaining that for every sexual partner you have, there are essentially dozens of others that you don't even know about: everyone he slept with, and so on and so