Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [143]
I tried again. "You said there was nobody else in the picture! And you''re fucking my best friend!" I shouted, unsure of who to confront first. Overwhelmed by the double betrayal.
I wanted him to say, yes, this looks bad, but there had been no fornicating. But no denial came my way. Instead he said, "Isn't that a bit of the pot calling the kettle black, Darce? You and Marcus, huh? Having a baby? I guess congratulations are in order."
I had nothing to say to that, so I just turned the tables right back on him and said, "I knew it all along."
This was a total lie. I never in a million years could have foreseen that moment. The shock was too much to bear. But that's the thing about the sucker punch; the sucker element hurts worse than the punch. They had socked it to me, but I wasn't going to be their fool, too.
"I hate you both. I always will," I said, realizing that my words sounded weak and juvenile, like the time when I was five years old and told my father that I loved the devil more than I loved him. I wanted to shock and horrify, but he had only chuckled at my creative put-down. Dex, too, seemed merely amused by my proclamation, which enraged me to the brink of tears. I told myself that I had to escape Rachel's apartment before I started bawling. On my way to the door, I heard Dex say, "Oh, Darcy?"
I turned to face him again. "What?" I spit out, praying that he was going to say it was all a joke, a big mix-up. Maybe they were going to laugh and ask how I could think such a thing. Maybe we'd even share a group hug.
But all he said was, "May I have my watch back, please?"
I swallowed hard and then hurled the watch at him, aiming for his face. Instead it hit a wall, skittered across her hardwood floor, and stopped just short of Dexter's bare feet. My eyes lifted from the watch to Rachel's face. "And you," I said to her. "I never want to see you again. You are dead to me."
* * *
Somehow I managed to make it downstairs (where I gave Rachel's doorman the gruesome highlights), into a cab (where I again shared the tale), and over to Marcus's place. I burst into his sloppy studio, where he sat cross-legged on the floor, playing a melody on his guitar that sounded vaguely like the refrain in "Fire and Rain."
He looked up at me, his expression a blend of annoyance and bemuse-ment. "What's wrong now?" he said.
I resented his use of the word now, implying that I am always having a crisis. I couldn't help what had just happened to me. I told him the whole story, sparing no detail. I wanted outrage from my new beau. Or at least shock. But no matter how much I tried to whip him into my same frenzied state, he'd fire back with these two points: How can you be mad when we did the same thing to them? And, Don't we want our friends to be as happy as we are?
I told him that our guilt was beside the point and, HELL NO, WE DON'T WANT THEM TO BE HAPPY!
Marcus kept strumming his guitar and smirking.
"What's so funny?" I asked, exasperated. "Nothing is funny about this situation!"
"Well maybe not ha-ha funny, but ironic funny."
"There is nothing even remotely funny about this, Marcus! And stop playing that thing!"
Marcus ran his thumb across the strings one final time before putting his guitar in its case. Then he sat cross-legged, gripping the toes of his dirty sneakers as he said again, "I just don't see how you can be so outraged when we did the same thing—"
"It's not the same thing at all!" I said, dropping to the cool floor. "See, I may have cheated on Dex with you. But I didn't do anything to Rachel."
"Well," he said. "She and I did date for a minute. We had potential before you came along."
"You went on a few lousy dates whereas I was engaged to Dex. What kind of person hooks up with her friend's fiancé?"
He crossed his arms and gave me a knowing look. "Darcy."
"What?"
"You're looking at one. Remember? I was one of Dexter's groomsmen? Ring a bell?"
I sniffed. True, Marcus and Dex had been college buddies, friends for years. But it just wasn't