The Marriage Pact (1) (24 page)

One
cold Thursday night in the middle of December, Marci and Jake were holed up on
the couch at his apartment, watching
North by Northwest
, which Jake had
been appalled to learn she had never seen. Suzanne had been out of town all
week in some sickeningly warm and sunny location, at a corporate retreat she’d
helped organize. With no Suzanne at home, Jake leaving the next day for a final
weekend of taping before Christmas, and the holidays making everything feel
cozy and festive, Marci had spent several nights in a row at Jake’s without
feeling trapped or anxious.

She
had just finished an assignment filling in for a receptionist at an accounting
firm, where more than half the staff was out on vacation. She had made $13 an hour
and read three novels between calls. Even with Friday off, for once she was
actually disappointed that the assignment was over.

She
lay now in her sweats and one of Jake’s old Ramones t-shirts, her hair pulled
up in a ponytail and head resting on his chest. An empty wine bottle and the
remains of Chinese food lay scattered on the coffee table. Despite her interest
in Cary Grant and whoever was chasing him, Marci’s eyes grew heavy with the
rhythmic sounds of Jake’s steady breathing.
Maybe I
could
do this
forever,
she thought sleepily.

She
woke to the sound of Jake at the front door, talking to someone. From her
position on the couch she couldn’t see him, only the light in the tiny hallway
that ran along Jake’s bedroom between the front door and the rest of the loft,
which was all one big room. She sat up and squinted at the clock beneath the
TV, frozen on a shot of Mt. Rushmore. It was nearly ten o’clock. Apparently,
she had been dozing for a while.

Who
was here at this time of night?
Jake had neighbors who might be coming or going, but most of them knew he
wasn’t a night owl.
A fire?
She felt a tiny surge of panic, but decided
the voices were too muted and calm for that kind of emergency. As she stood to
investigate, she heard her name. “Marci’s sleeping,” Jake said, rather firmly.
“Why don’t you call her tomorrow?”

Her
puzzlement lasted only seconds, giving way to complete shock when she heard the
response. “Look, I know it’s late, man, and I’m sorry, but it’s really
important that I talk to her.”
Doug Stanton. Six months later. In her city.
In her fiancé’s doorway.

She
plodded numbly to the door, not knowing what else to do, compelled as much by
curiosity as anything else. She put her hand on Jake’s back and felt the
muscles tense beneath her touch. Coiled like a spring. “I’m here,” she said
softly. Jake gave her a resigned look and pushed the door open further.

“See?”
Doug said, like a child who had just proved his parents wrong. “She’s awake.”
He was wearing shorts and a wrinkled button-up over a Longhorns t-shirt. His
blonde curls were matted and there were deep circles beneath his eyes. Still,
he grinned at Jake, making Marci want to slap him.

“What
do you want?” she said, as icily as possible.

“I
need to talk to you. Please?”

“I
have nothing to say to you.”

“I
know,” he whined. “I get that, babe, I do. But I have some really important
things to say to you. Ten minutes. Please? We can stay in the building.”

“No,”
she said, but less firmly.

“Please,
Marce?” Doug’s eyes were welling with actual tears. “I drove all the way from
Austin today, just to talk to you. Please don’t tell me I can’t have ten
minutes.”

She
looked at Jake, whose face was set hard in an unreadable expression. “Whatever
you want,” he said flatly.

“You’ve
got five minutes,” she relented. “In the building.”

Jake
exhaled next to her and she sensed his anger. Anger at Doug, clearly, but maybe
at her, too. An ominous feeling rose in her stomach, and she considered
changing her mind and slamming the door in the slimy bastard’s face right then.
But how could she deny him five minutes when he had driven fifteen hours?
Seeing him after so long, she was struck by her curiosity, and the absurd
desire to run her fingers through his blonde curls again. She grabbed Jake’s
grey hoodie off the hook next to the door and stepped out. “I’ll be
right
back,” she said. He pressed his lips together into a half smile and closed the
door behind her.

She
rounded on Doug. “What the
hell
are you doing here? How did you find
me?”

“Easy,
babe; don’t want any of your neighbors to call the police, do you?” He was
grinning. Antagonizing her had always been a favorite pastime of his.

She
scowled. “Stop calling me that. I’m not your babe. Speaking of that, how
is
your baby? And your wife? How’s the happy little family?”

His
smile faded. “There is no baby. And Cathy and I are divorced. That’s what I
came to tell you. It’s been final for a month now.”

“I’m...”
she fumbled, stunned. “I guess I’m sorry.”

“Don’t
be. It’s for the best, and it’s a long story. I’ve been trying to find you for
months. Figured out that you blocked my calls, eventually. I have a new number
now, in case you’re interested.”

Marci
glared at him wordlessly. Interested, she was not.

“Finally,
I came across your engagement announcement a few weeks ago, and tracked down
your man’s address.”
Damn
. They had been putting off that announcement
for so long and finally caved to Kitty’s pleas for public recognition just
before Thanksgiving. “Nice rock, by the way.” He pointed at her left hand,
which she immediately shoved in the pocket of the hoodie.

“What
do you
want
, Doug?”

“All
business. Like always. You’re so
serious
, Marci,” he said, mocking her
demanding tone. She did not smile. “Okay, I’ll be honest. I want you. I came
here to explain everything and to talk to you and apologize. Because I really
am sorry, Marce.”

She
snorted.

“It’s
true, and I know you don’t believe me, and I know I can’t explain everything to
you in a dingy hallway with your boyfriend listening on the other side of the
door.”

“He’s
my fiancé,” she corrected.

“Fine.
And if this is the only place I get to talk to you, I’ll tell you everything
right here. But I’d rather us sit down, when we’re both calm and we can have a
few minutes to ourselves. I got a room at the Hyatt downtown for a few days.”

“No,
Doug,” she interrupted. “It’s over. I’m sorry about your marriage, but...”

“Believe
me, you’re not as sorry about mine as I am about yours. But it’s not too late;
you don’t have to do this...”

“It
is too late!” She protested, louder than she intended. Her voice echoed in the
hallway.

Doug
sensed the opportunity and grabbed her hands. “Please don’t give up on
everything we had, not now when we could actually be together, finally. After all
we went through...I mean, can you look me in the eye and tell me that what you
have with this guy is as passionate and amazing as what we had together?”

Her
eyes were stinging with tears threatening to materialize.
No, no, no, no.

“Please
leave, Doug,” she said as firmly as she could, dropping his hands.

“Marci,
don’t.”

“GO!”
she yelled, and turned back into Jake’s unlocked apartment. She leaned against
the other side of the door momentarily in the darkness, breathing hard and
waiting to hear Doug’s exiting footsteps down the hall toward the elevator. At
her feet, a torn slip of paper appeared under the door. The gas station receipt
had five words scrawled hastily across the back, reminding her of the post-it
notes he used to leave at her desk.

I am
not giving up.

She
wadded it and threw it in the bathroom trash can on her way back to the living
room. The TV and all the lights were out, the space lighted only by the large
strip of high windows across the back wall and the city lights beyond. Jake sat
on the couch, staring at the sleeping TV. He had cleaned up the mess from
dinner, she noticed.

“Hi,”
she said softly. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t think he would know how
to find me here.”

Jake’s
voice was equally soft. “This is what you were running away from. Him.”

She
felt ashamed of her weakness, ashamed that she’d been too afraid to tell Jake
the truth in the beginning. There was only one way forward—the truth. “Yes.”

“He
was married. I saw the white line on his finger.”

“Yes.”

“You
loved him. You still do.”

“I
did,” she acknowledged, and hesitated before going on. Could she lie and say
she’d felt nothing when she saw Doug? That all her anger wasn’t based on some
kind of feeling? Could she tell her best friend something that she
wanted
to be true, and hope it would be enough? No.

 “Now,”
she sighed, “I—I don’t know.”

“You
don’t know,” he repeated. It sounded cold and awful coming back to her in his
voice.

“But
I don’t want him back; I do know that. I love you—I want to be with you.” She
meant these words sincerely, but as she heard them, they sounded empty. She
could hardly blame Jake for not turning to embrace her.

“This
is why you don’t want to set a date for the wedding.”

“What?”
She was genuinely surprised. In the last few months, Jake had brought up
wedding dates twice—once while they were half-blitzed at a Georgia game and his
mother kept not-so-subtly mentioning it, and another time just a couple of
weeks ago when she’d had a terrible headache. Both times she had suggested they
talk about it later, but she had not realized he had taken this to mean she
didn’t
want
to set a date.

Then
again, she realized, seeing the hurt on his face now, she had not brought the
topic up again, either. A stack of bridal magazines next to her nightstand at
Suzanne’s were gathering dust unopened, along with the navy blue wedding binder
Nicole had helpfully provided her. Weren’t most brides really excited to make
wedding plans?
What was wrong with her?

She
wanted to throw her arms around him and apologize for not being a good
girlfriend, fiancée, whatever. She wanted to get out the calendar and offer to
pick a date right now if that was what he wanted. Anything to fix this horrible
silence. But nothing would come out. She felt helpless against the unbelievable
turn this night had taken.

He
was quiet for a long time, looking at something in the vicinity of the coffee
table without seeming to see it. Finally he said, “I think I need some time to
process this. It’s—it’s a lot to take.”

“But
Jake, you knew I’d been seeing someone in Austin, right? You knew —”

“I
guess I did, but...I don’t know. It’s different now, seeing him, and you...”
His face contorted with emotion. “I can’t talk about this right now. Can you go
to Suzanne’s tomorrow?”

“What
are you saying? You don’t want me here?”

“I
just need time.”

“Jake,
I—”

“No.
Marci. I have an early morning tomorrow.” He was back in control, his tone
almost fatherly. “You take the bed, and I’m going to stay out here.”

She
reached out and put her hand on his knee, hoping he would turn to face her. He
didn’t push her away, but he didn’t look at her either. She waited a few
minutes without response, and then stood to go to his bedroom, where she lay
awake for a long time listening to the silence in the apartment, feeling like
an intruder. Even though she woke before 6:00 the next morning, when she
stepped out of the bedroom he had already gone.

It
was Friday morning and Marci had nowhere to be. Suzanne was at her retreat until
Saturday afternoon, and Marci couldn’t face spending a long weekday at home in
an empty apartment. She steered the car to the interstate and headed north
toward her parents’ instead. Dad would be going into work late this morning.
Nicole was in town for a baby shower/Christmas party her friends were throwing
because she would no longer be able to travel by Christmas.

When
she got home, her mother was in the middle of cooking breakfast while her
father read the paper by the breakfast window, and a pajama-clad Nicole lounged
in a cushioned patio chair she’d dragged out of storage and placed in the
middle of the kitchen. She looked like a Titian painting with her big belly and
her aristocratic recline. None of them seemed surprised to see Marci, even though
it was a weekday morning and they hadn’t discussed her being there.
I have
got
to get a real job,
she thought.

Meanwhile,
Nicky was complaining about the aches and pains of pregnancy, the demands of
Ravi’s new job (which had seemed very reasonable a few weeks ago), and of
course, Mrs. Argawal. The latest on that front was that she had sent a large
package of baby items to their apartment—including some handmade blankets and
clothes—but had addressed the box to Ravi only. She had turned down the
invitation to the couples’ shower being thrown by their local friends and
coworkers, and sent the box instead.