Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [55]
"How was your date with Nina?" she asks in a wry, loud voice.
He wipes his eyes with his fists as people do on television when they're awakened from a sound sleep. "Hi," he says wearily and then pretends to fall back asleep.
She cuddles up to him in bed, tossing out an "I love you."
His jaw clenches, but he says it back. What choice does he have? He falls asleep thinking about me. Thinking that her chin is too sharp against his chest.
I am watching them on the beach, down by the water.
Darcy and Dex standing together in the not-too-hot June sun. This weekend is the first that I have seen them together since Dex and I soberly, willfully, made love. I am wearing dark sunglasses so I can study them from my towel without being obvious, while Claire babbles to me about—what else?—the wedding. What if the night is chilly? Should we buy matching wraps, a light, gauzy cardigan? I nod and murmur that it is a good idea.
Dex has just finished a quick swim, even though the water is freezing. Now they are talking, huddled close together. Perhaps he is giving her the report on the water temperature. She hesitantly steps closer to the ocean's reach, just enough to let the water coat her feet. They are both smiling. Dex kicks water onto her shins and she shrieks, turns, and scampers a few feet from him. I can see the muscles strain in her long, tanned legs. She is wearing the nude-colored bikini. Her hair is down, blowing around her face. He laughs, and she raises her index finger as if to scold him and then walks toward him again. They are engaged in a full-fledged frolic. It pains me to watch them, but I can't stop. I can't look away.
I feel as if they are putting on a show. Well, Darcy is always putting on a show. But Dex is a willing participant. Surely he knows we are all watching. That I am watching. It is always that way when you are in a group and someone decides to go for a swim or walk to the water. The ocean is like a giant stage. It is natural that the others watch, if only for a moment. Dex must be aware of this, yet he is still in full-throttle playful-couple mode. He should be brooding on his towel, napping, or reading a novel—something dark, to give me the impression that he is confused, upset, torn. But instead he is splashing Darcy and grinning.
Marcus cups his mouth with his hands, yells down at them. "How cold is it?"
"Freaking freezing!" Darcy announces, her hand stroking Dex's back, while he reports a manly "Nah, it feels good. Come on down!"
Rage commingles with hurt. For the first time, I completely regret having sex with Dex. I feel foolish, suddenly sure that it meant next to nothing to him. Tears sting my eyes as I force myself to turn away from them, slip on my headphones. I order myself not to cry.
Before I can hit play, Marcus asks me what I'm listening to. I have only seen him once since our date and that was just for a quick weekday lunch at a deli near my office, but we have talked several times, and one conversation lasted over an hour. The only apparent reason why date number two has not happened, at least as far as he knows, is mere circumstance. He's busy, I'm busy. Work has been crazy. That whole routine. So the door is still wide open, which I am very glad about. I need to focus more on him. Feelings for him might emerge once I put Dex behind me. I smile and say, "Tracy Chapman. It's a good CD. Wanna listen?"
I hand him my headphones as Dex and Darcy walk toward us. Marcus listens for a few seconds. "That's nice." He gives my headphones back to me and fishes a Coke out of our cooler. "Want a sip?" he asks just as Darcy and Dex are standing over us.
I tell him sure, take the can, and wipe the lid with the edge of my towel after I swallow.
He says with a knowing, goofy look, "I don't mind your germs. If you catch my drift."
I laugh and shake my head, as if to say, Marcus, you crazy nut, you.
Marcus winks. I laugh again.
Perfect timing. Dex catches the whole exchange. I do not look