Something Borrowed (15 page)

and start over, never bowing to pressure or expectations. I wish I

could be more like him.

"So what did you do for your birthday?" Ethan asks.

I shut my office door and blurt it out. "Darcy had a surprise party

for me, I got wasted, and hooked up with Dex."

I suppose this is what happens when you're not accustomed to

having secrets. You don't learn the art of holding back.

In fact, I

am surprised I have lasted this long. I hear static in the line as the

news travels across the Atlantic. I panic, wishing I could suck the

admission back in.

"Get the fuck outta here. You're kidding me, right?"

My silence tells him that I'm serious.

"Ohhh, shhhit." His voice is still smiling.

"What? What are you thinking?" I need to know if he's judging. I

need to know what he thinks of me, if he is siding with Chanel

Suit.

"Wait. Whaddaya mean, hooked up? You didn't sleep with him,

did you?"

"Um. Yeah. Actually I did."

I am relieved to hear him laugh, even though I tell him that it's

not funny, that this is serious business.

"Oh, trust me. This is funny."

I picture the dimple in his left cheek. "And what exactly is so

amusing?"

"Miss Goody Two-shoes screws her friend's fiance.

This is raw

comedy at its best."

"Ethan!"

He stops laughing long enough to ask if I could be knocked up.

"No. We had that covered."

"So to speak?"

"Yeah," I say. Any pun I ever make is an accident.

"So no harm done, right? It was a mistake. Shit happens. People

make mistakes, especially when they're wasted. Look at me and

Brandi with an i."

"I guess so. But still"

Ethan whistles and then says the obvious that Darcy would flip if

she ever found out.

My other line rings. "You need to get that?" Ethan asks.

"No. I'll let it roll to voice mail."

"You sure? It could be your new boyfriend."

"Ask yourself if you're being helpful," I say, although I'm relieved

that he is not preachy and serious. That's not Ethan's style, but

you never know when someone is going to take the moral high

ground. And there is definitely moral high ground all around here,

particularly considering that Darcy is a friend of his too. Not as

close as he and I are, but they still talk occasionally.

"Sorry. Sorry." He snickers. "Okay. Just one more substantive

question."

"What?"

"Was it good?"

"Ethan! I don't know. We were drunk!"

"So it was all sloppy?"

"C'mon, Ethan!" I say, as if I'm not thinking about the particulars.

Meanwhile, a snapshot of the Incident flashes through my

brain my fingers pressed into Dexter's back. It is a perfect,

airbrushed image. There is nothing sloppy about it.

"So you've spoken to him since?"

I tell him about the Hamptons weekend and the date with Marcus.

"Nice touch. Going for his friend. That way, if you marry Marcus,

you guys can be swingers."

I ignore him and continue with the rest the ride to the jitney, last

night, a summary of the e-mail.

"Wow. Shit. So do you have feelings for him too?"

"I don't know," I say, even though I know that the answer is yes.

"But the wedding's still on?"

"Yeah," I say. "As far as I know."

"As far as you know?"

"Yes. It is."

Silence. He is not laughing anymore, so my guilt returns in full

force.

"What are you thinking now?"

"I was just wondering where you want this to go," he says. "What

do you want from it? Is it a fling, or do you want him to call off the

wedding?"

I flinch at the word "fling." That's not what it is at all, but at the

same time, I don't think I want Dex to call off the wedding. I can't

imagine doing that to Darcy. I tell Ethan that I don't know, I'm

not sure.

"Hmm Well, has he mentioned the engagement at all?"

"No. Not really."

"Hmm."

"What? What does 'hmm' mean?"

"It means I think he should call the shit off."

"Because of me?" My stomach drops at the thought of being

responsible for Darcy's canceled wedding. "Maybe he just has cold

feet?"

I hear my voice rising hopefully at the suggestion of mere cold

feet. Why does part of me want it to be that simple?

And how can I

be so thrilled to be near Dex, so deeply moved by his e-mail, and

still want, on some level, for him to marry Darcy?

"Rach "

"Ethan, I know what you're going to say."

I don't know exactly what he is going to say, but I have a hunch

from his tone that it has something to do with where things are

going to end up if I don't cease and desist. That it's going to blow

up somehow. That someone likely me is going to get hurt. But I

don't want to hear him say any of it.

"Okay. Just be careful. Don't get busted. Shit."

I hear him laughing again.

"What?"

"Just thinking of Darcy It's sort of satisfying."

"Satisfying how?"

"Oh, come on. Don't even tell me that part of you doesn't like

zinging her a little bit. There's some poetic justice here.

Darcy's

been riding roughshod over you for years."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, genuinely surprised to hear

him describe our friendship like that. I know I've been feeling

more irritated by her recently and I know that she has not always

been the most selfless of friends, but I've never thought of her as

riding roughshod over me. "No she hasn't."

"Yeah, she has."

"No. She hasn't" I say more firmly. I'm not sure who I am

defending me or Darcy. Yes, there was the matter of you, Ethan.

But you don't know about that.

"Oh, please. Remember Notre Dame? The SATs?"

I think back to the day we all received our SAT scores, sealed in

white envelopes from Guidance. We were all tight-lipped, but

dying to know what everyone else got. Finally Darcy just said at

lunch, "Okay, who cares. Let's just tell our scores.

Rachel?"

"Why do I have to go first?" I asked. I was satisfied with my score,

but still didn't want to go first.

"Don't be a baby," Darcy said. "Just tell us."

"Fine. Thirteen hundred," I said.

"What was your verbal?" she asked.

I told her 680.

"Nice," she said. "Congratulations."

Ethan went next. Fourteen ten. No surprise there. I forget what

Annalise got something in the low eleven hundreds.

"Well?" I looked at Darcy.

"Oh. Right. I got a thirteen hundred five."

I knew instantly that she didn't have a 1305. The SAT

is not scored

in increments of five. Ethan knew too, because he kicked me

under the table and hid a smile with his ham sandwich.

I didn't care that she lied per se. She was a known embellisher.

But the fact that she lied about her score to beat me by five that

part really figured. We didn't call her on it. There was no point.

But then she said, "Well, maybe we'll both get into Notre Dame."

It was her Ethan power move in the fifth grade all over again.

Like a lot of kids in the Midwest, my dream growing up was to

attend

Notre Dame. We're not Irish or even Catholic, but ever since my

parents took me to a Notre Dame football game when I was eight,

I wanted to go there. To me it was what a college should

be stately stone buildings, manicured lawns, plenty of tradition. I

wanted to be a part of it. Darcy never showed the slightest interest

in Notre Dame and it irritated me that she was infringing on my

terrain. But I wasn't too worried about her taking my spot. My

grades were higher, my SATs were probably higher, and besides,

more than one student from our high school got into Notre Dame

every year.

That spring, the acceptance and rejection letters trickled in slowly.

I checked the mailbox every day, in agony. Mike O'Sullivan, who

had three generations of alumni in his family and was the

president of our class, got into Notre Dame first. I assumed that I

would be next, but Darcy got her letter before I did. I was with her

when she got the mail, although she wouldn't open the envelope

in front of me. I went home, hoping guiltily that she had received

bad news.

She called an hour later, ecstatic. "I can't believe it! I got in! Can

you believe it?"

In short, no. I couldn't. I mustered up a congratulations, but I was

crushed. Her news meant one of two things: she had taken my

spot, or we would both go to Notre Dame and she would upstage

me for four more years. As much as I knew I would miss Darcy

when I went away, I felt strongly that I needed to establish myself

apart from her. Once she got in, there would be no perfect

resolution.

Still, I wanted that acceptance more than I had ever wanted

anything. And I had my pride on the line. I waited, prayed, even

thought about calling the admissions office to beg. One sickening

week later, my letter arrived. It looked just like Darcy's. I ran

inside, my heart pounding in my ears as I sliced open the

envelope, unfolded the paper that held my fate. Close you are

very highly qualified but no cigar.

I was devastated and could barely speak to my friends in school

the next day, especially Darcy. At lunch, as I fought back tears, she

informed me that she was going to Indiana anyway.

That she

wanted nothing to do with a school that would turn me down. Her

charity upset me all the more. For once, Annalise spoke up. "You

took Rachel's spot, and you didn't even want to go thete?"

"Well, it was my first choice. I changed my mind. And how was I

supposed to know it would happen like this?" she said.

"I assumed

she would get in; I only beat her by a few points on the SAT."

Ethan had had enough. "You didn't get a damn thirteen hundred

five, Darcy. The SAT is scored in increments of ten."

"Who said I got a thirteen hundred five?"

"You did," Ethan and I said in unison.

"No I didn't. I said a thirteen ten."

"Omigod!" I said, looking at Annalise for support, but her

gumption had run out. She claimed that she had forgotten what

Darcy said.

We argued for the rest of the lunch hour about what Darcy had

said and why she had applied to Notre Dame if she didn't want to

go there. We both ended up crying, and Darcy left school early,

telling the school nurse she had cramps. The whole thing blew

over when I got into Duke and talked myself into being happy

with that result. Duke had a similar look and feel stone buildings,

pristine campus, prestige. It was just as good as Notre Dame and

maybe it was better to broaden my horizons and leave Indiana.

But to this day I wonder why Notre Dame picked Darcy over me.

Maybe a junior male member of the admissions staff fancied her

photo. Maybe it was just Darcy's typical good luck.

In any case, I'm glad that Ethan refreshed my memory about

Notre Dame. It replaces the Becky Zurich showdown in the

forefront of my mind. Yes, Darcy could be a good friend she

usually was but she also screwed me at a few pivotal moments in

life: first love, college dream. Those were no small matters.

"All right," I say to Ethan. "But I think you're overstating the point

a little. I wouldn't use the term 'roughshod.'"

"Okay, but you know what I mean. There's an undercurrent of

competition."

"I guess so. Maybe," I say, thinking that it isn't much of a

competition when one person consistently loses.

"So, anyway, please keep me posted. This is good stuff."

I tell him I will.

"Oh, one more thing," he says. "When are you going to visit me?"

ooon.

"That's what you always say."

"I know. But you know how it goes. Work is always crazy I'll

come soon, though. This year for sure."

"Good enough," Ethan says. "I really do miss you."

"I miss you too."

"Besides," he says. "You might need a vacation by the time you're

through with all of this."

After we hang up, I note with satisfaction that Ethan never told

me to stop. He only said to be careful. And I will do that. I will be

careful the next time I see Dexter.

I avoid Darcy for three days, a very difficult thing to do. We never

go so long without talking. When she finally reaches me, I blame

my absence on work, say I have been unbelievably swamped which is true although I have found plenty of time to

daydream about Dex, call Dex, e-mail Dex. She asks if I am free

for Sunday brunch. I tell her yes, figuring that I might as well just

get the face-to-face meeting over with. We arrange to meet at EJ's

Luncheonette near my apartment.

On Sunday morning, I arrive at EJ's first and note with relief that

the place is full of children. Their happy clamor provides a

distraction and makes me slightly less nervous. But I am still filled

with anxiety at the thought of spending time with Darcy. I have

been able to cope with my guilt by avoiding all thoughts of her,

almost pretending that Dex is single and we are back in law

school, before I ever got the big idea to introduce Darcy to him.