Something Borrowed - Emily Giffin [97]
"Okay," I say, somewhat reluctantly.
"Awesome!" She walks toward my kitchen, starts rooting around. "Do you have any cereal?"
"No, I'm out. You want to go to EJ's?"
She says no, that she wants to eat sugar cereal right here in my apartment, that she wants it to feel just like old times, no New York brunch scene. She opens my refrigerator and surveys the contents. "Man, you're out of everything. I'll just run out and get some coffee and some essentials."
"Should we really drink coffee?" I ask her.
"Why wouldn't we?"
"Because I thought we were going to be authentic. We didn't drink coffee when we were in high school."
She thinks for a second, missing my sarcasm. "We'll make an exception for coffee."
"Do you want me to come with you?" I offer.
"No. That's okay. I'll be right back."
As soon as she leaves, I check my voice mail. Dex has left me two messages—one from last night, one from this morning. In the first, he says how much he misses me. In the second, he asks if he can come over tonight. I call him back, surprised at how grateful I feel when I get voice mail. I leave him a message, telling him that Darcy is over and plans to stay for a while, so tonight won't really work out. Then I sit on my couch thinking about last night, my friendship with Darcy. Will I be able to live with myself if I get what I want at her expense? What would life be like without her? I am still thinking about it all when Darcy returns. Bulging plastic bags hang from her forearms. I take the coffees from her hands as she dramatically drops the bags to the floor and shows me the red indentations the bags made on her arms. I make a sympathetic noise until she smiles again.
"I got great stuff! Froot Loops! Root beer! Cranapple juice! And Ben and Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream!"
"Ice cream for breakfast?"
"No. For later."
"Aren't you worried about your wedding weight?"
She waves her hand at me. "Whatever. No."
"Why not?" I ask, knowing that she will eat now and ask me later why I let her do it.
" 'Cause I'm just not! Don't rain on my parade!… Now. Let's eat Froot Loops!"
She busies herself in the kitchen finding bowls, spoons, napkins. She brings them out to the coffee table. She is in her giddy, high-energy mode.
"Would you rather eat over there?" I say, pointing to my little round table.
"No. I want it to be just like my house after a sleepover. We always ate in front of the TV. Remember?" She aims the remote control at the television and flips through the channels until she finds MTV. Then she pours cereal into bowls, carefully making sure we have the same amount. I am not in the mood for Froot Loops, but it is clear that I do not have a choice in the matter. Although I find it somewhat touching that she wants to re-create our childhood, I am also annoyed by her bossiness. Running roughshod, Ethan said. Maybe it is a precise description after all. And here I am, a willing participant, letting her steamroll me.
"Tell me when," she says, pouring whole milk onto my cereal. I hate whole milk.
"When," I say, almost instantly.
She stops pouring and looks at me. "Really? They are barely moist."
"I know," I say, appeasing her, "but this is how I liked it in high school too."
"Good point," she says, pouring milk in her own bowl. She fills it to the brim.
I take a few bites as she stirs her cereal with her spoon, waiting for the milk to turn pink.
Dido's "Thank You" video is on. Of course, it makes me think of Dex.
"This song," Darcy says, still stirring. "You know the part when she says she's home at last and soaking and then 'you handed me a towel'?"
"Yeah."
"That line totally reminds me of you."
"Of me?" I look at her. "I think it's supposed to be a romantic song."
She rolls her eyes. "Duh! I know that. Don't worry." She takes a bite and continues to talk with her mouth full. "I'm not dyking out or any-thing. I'm just saying you really are always here for me. You know, when the chips are down."
"That's sweet." I smile, push away the guilt, sip my coffee.
We listen to the rest of