electricity that sparked between them had her blood buzzing.
He was up at his house now, talking with his daughters. She’d been very aware of their presence when she was setting up her little outdoor nest. Their laughter made her smile, even though an awareness of loss plunged through her whenever she overheard any two women laughing together.
She sank onto the couch and put her head in her hands.
Six months ago, Marina had started her period on her fortieth birthday. The moment she woke she wanted to break into a howl of sorrow, but she choked it back as she rose from bed and rushed into the shower. Recently Gerry had been cool, abrupt, even irritated when she talked about her infertility. Their marriage was in one of those distant phases all marriages went through, probably because of problems at the office. Today she and Gerry both had crowded schedules. She needed to ignore her private life and concentrate on her accounts.
Sometimes she and Gerry drove to work in the same car, but he had a meeting elsewhere in the city today, so they drove separately.She was glad, really. She needed to talk to a friend. Christie was busy with a new baby, so she put on her headset and punched in Dara’s number.
Dara sounded groggy. “Marina. What’s up?”
“Dara, my period started today.”
“Oh, hell. Oh, Marina, fucking damn. I’m sorry. How are you?”
“Not so great. And work is a rat’s nest, which actually is not a bad thing. It will keep me from brooding.”
“Good for you, Marina. Positive attitude. Move forward. How are you celebrating your birthday?”
“Oh, forget my birthday.” Marina sped up and passed an ancient Toyota dawdling in front of her. Dara’s chipper attitude irritated Marina. She needed someone to help her mourn, to help her mark this occasion. Dara remained silent on the other end of the line. “Gerry hasn’t planned a surprise party for me, has he?”
Dara laughed. “And I would tell you if he had?”
“Because I’m not in the mood for a party. I think I’d just like to get hammered. I’d like to sit down with you and drink tequila and wail.”
“No Gerry?”
“No. We haven’t been very close lately. Anyway, he’s sick of me blubbering around.”
“Well, honey, if that’s what you really want to do, let’s do it. Shall we meet at Hoolihan’s?”
“Great. No, wait. I’d better ask Gerry if we have plans. I mean, it is my great-big fat fortieth. I’m sure he has something planned. I’m here. Talk to you later.”
“Marina? Listen, honey—I just want to tell you … I think you’re going to be just fine. I think you’re a tremendously strong person.”
“Thanks, Dar’. I love you, too.” Marina clicked off.
Later, she would remember her final words to Dara, and they would crash a world of humiliation down on her heart. How had she ever been so blind?
How had she ever been a friend anyone could so easily betray?
There
was
a surprise fortieth birthday party, thrown at Dara’s house. It was a mob scene, with champagne and every other kind of liquor flowing like Niagara Falls, and music pumped up by a DJ andpeople dancing and getting properly smashed and yelling out all sorts of inappropriate things. In the midst of such revelry, Marina hardly saw Gerry or Dara. She got good and hammered, and she thought her husband had, too, so when Dara insisted they sleep at her place because they were too wasted to go home, Marina accepted gratefully.
Saturday morning she awoke in Dara’s guest room with a dry mouth and a bad headache. She expected to see Gerry snoring in bed next to her, but she was alone. She pulled on a robe of Dara’s over her naked body and shuffled down the hall to the kitchen, toward the smell of coffee.
Gerry and Dara weren’t kissing or embracing or even touching. They were sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, quietly talking.
Yet something about the way they were leaning toward each other slapped Marina wide awake.
She said,