Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [37]
Marcus raises his eyebrows. "Dewey, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Dooo heee have a stick up his ass or what?"
I laugh.
He looks proud of his joke, pleased to make me laugh.
"So, are you having fun?"
"I guess so. You?"
He shrugs. "The people here kind of take themselves seriously, don't they?"
"That's the Hamptons."
I survey the party. It is a far cry from neighborhood barbecues back in Indiana. Part of me feels satisfied that I have expanded my horizons. But a larger part of me feels uncomfortable every time I come to a party like this one. I am a poser, attempting to mingle with people who consider Indiana to be mere flyover country—necessary terrain to cross on their trips to Aspen or Los Angeles. I watch Darcy making her rounds with Dex at her side. There is no trace of Indy left in her; to watch her you would guess that she grew up on Park Avenue. Her kids will grow up in Manhattan, for sure. When I have kids, if I ever have kids, I intend to move to the suburbs. I look at Marcus, trying to imagine him dragging our son's Big Wheel out of the street. He looks down at our little boy, whose face is streaked with dried Popsicle, and instructs him to stay on the sidewalk. The boy has Marcus's short eyebrows pointing up toward each other like an upside-down V.
"C'mon," Marcus says. "Let's get another drink." "All right," I say, keeping my eye on the blonde in my dress. As we walk toward the poolside bar, I think of Indiana again, picturing Annalise and Greg with their neighbors, all spilled out on the freshly cut Midwestern lawn. If somebody wore her same pair of khaki shorts from the Gap, nobody would care.
After the party, we find another party, and then do our usual finale at the Talkhouse, where I dance with Marcus again. Around three o'clock, we all pile into the car and go home. Hillary and Claire head straight for bed while the two couples remain in the den. Darcy and Dex hold hands on one love seat; Marcus and I sit next to each other, but not touching, on the adjacent couch.
"All right, kids. It's past my bedtime," Darcy says, standing suddenly. She glances at Dexter. "You coming?"
My eyes meet Dexter's. We look away simultaneously. "Yeah," he says. "I'll be right there."
The three of us talk for a few more minutes until we hear Darcy calling Dex from the top of the stairs. "Come on, Dex! They want to be alone!"
Marcus smirks while I study a freckle on my arm.
Dex clears his throat, coughs. His face is all business. "Okay then. Guess I'll head up. Good night."
"All right, man. See you tomorrow," Marcus says.
I just mumble good night, too uncomfortable to look up as Dex leaves the room.
"Finally," Marcus says. "Alone at last."
I feel an unexpected pang for Dex that is somehow reminiscent of Hunter leaving Joey and me alone in the lounge at Duke, but I push it away and smile at Marcus.
He moves closer and kisses me without asking first this time. It is a nice enough kiss, maybe even nicer than our first one. For some reason,
I think of the Brady Bunch episode when Bobby saw skyrockets after kissing Millicent (who, unbeknownst to Bobby, had the mumps). When I first saw that episode I was about Bobby's age, so that kiss seemed like serious stuff. Someday I will see skyrockets like that, I remember thinking. To date, I have not seen skyrockets. But Marcus comes just as close as anyone before him.
Our kissing escalates to the next level and then I say, "Well, I think we should go to bed."
"Together?" he asks. I can tell he is joking.
"Very funny," I answer. "Good night, Marcus."
I kiss him one more time before going to my room, passing Dex and Darcy's closed door on the way.
The next morning I check my voice mail. Les has left me three messages. He might as well be a Jehovah's Witness, for as much attention as he pays to the holidays. He says that he wants "to go over a few things tomorrow, early afternoon." I know he is vague on purpose, not leaving a specific time or instructions to meet him at the office or call in. This way he can be sure that my Memorial Day is slashed in half. Hillary tells