We walked all the way over to the meadow, following a path toward the boulder next to a tunnel. I stopped for a second, turned away, and that was when Jacqueline came out of nowhere. We were somewhat hidden behind the corner and Jacqueline was running fast when she collided into Marguerite. She tripped her and Marguerite fell down to the ground.
A flash of anger rushed through me before I knew the identity of the runner. But then I saw that it was Jacqueline and everything in my world stopped.
I was in shock, but before I could ask her what she' was doing there, before I could say a word, she apologized and ran off.
That was it.
"Aren't you going to call her?" Marguerite asks when we're back in her apartment, serving me tea. I had offered for us to go out, grab some dinner, but she said that she needed to stay in and get off her feet.
She changed into loose fitting pajama bottoms, an oversized T-shirt, and a pair of house slippers.
“Sorry that I look like this, but I just can't handle wearing regular clothes anymore. Definitely not a bra or anything that’s confining,” she adds. “And sorry if that’s too much information, but I’m pregnant and I don’t give a shit.”
"Yes, of course, no problem.” I shrug.
Lincoln and Marguerite live in a spacious two bedroom apartment. Well, spacious by New York standards anyway. It's decorated nicely, mostly from West Elm. It was Lincoln who had taken the initiative to do that when they first moved in here because Marguerite was working such long hours at the hospital.
"Why didn't you say anything about her to me?" Marguerite asks, sitting back against the couch, letting the cushions absorb her from all around.
I take a seat in the chair next to her, taking a sip of my tea. It’s steaming hot. Given the fact that she is overheating twenty-three hours a day, Marguerite drinks only iced tea.
"I don't know what happened. I just ... I wasn't expecting to see her there."
"I know, but still once you did ..."
"It wasn't the right time."
"You know, you keep saying that this isn't the right girl for you, this isn't the right time, but why do you keep thinking about her? Why does she keep… consuming you?"
I shrug. I don't know the answer to that, just like I don't know the answer to a lot of things.
I try to change the topic, but Marguerite doesn't want to talk about herself. I know that Lincoln is being particularly difficult, working all of these hours, and I offer my support in however way I can.
"You know, I just don't understand why he doesn't want to be here for me. I mean, he told me he wanted to have this baby. He was so excited when I got pregnant and now it just feels like he's ignoring me."
"Maybe he's not lying. Maybe he's trying to set up something for afterward. You know, make some moves, maybe get a promotion,” I suggest.
“But the thing about his kind of work is that there's just always more and more of it,” she exhales, gasping in despair. "There's always more clients. There's never enough money, you know? There's always more rungs on the ladder to climb and what's the point?”
“You of all people should understand," I say. "You went to medical school, you put in all those hours at the hospital."
“I'm not saying that his work is not as important as mine, of course not. I mean, I know what this means to him."
"And obviously it doesn't save lives," I point out.
She laughs. "Yeah, if it did, it'd pay less."
We both chuckle.
"I just don't know how to deal with this," Marguerite says, after a long pause. "I'm tired of fighting with him and every time he's home, the few hours that he has, I just want to talk about it and it's so stupid because I shouldn't have to talk about it. I bring it up and then we have a fight and it's just like one thing after another. How do I even get through this?"
"I have no idea.” I shake my head.
I hate to admit it but I understand where Lincoln is coming from. I have that same workaholic gene within me. My solution to everything seems to be to bury myself in work.
"His work is more than something he does to make a living," I say. "It's his identity. Money is about winning points on the scoreboard, especially if you're in the position like he has at that fund. He brings in money; he invests it properly. Everyone benefits, everyone celebrates, he gets a promotion. It's a lot like my work and it's easier for me to tell him to take it easy when in reality, that's exactly what I do whenever I feel a little bit lost."
"Is that why you've been working so hard?" Marguerite asks, adjusting her location on the couch and moving her stomach from one side to another, holding it a little bit underneath for support.
"Yeah, of course. I mean, it's a no brainer. I've taken on a bunch more clients, traveled a lot more than I probably would have. Haven't stayed in the same hotel room for more than two days."
"And what are you running away from?" she asks.
"All the lies I've told."
"What are you talking about?"
I shrug and look down at the bottom of my cup. "I need a refill," I say, getting up.
I grab her glass of iced tea and fill up both of our drinks. When I return, she's sitting straight up with her arms crossed in front of her, waiting for my answer.
"You're not going to get away from this that easily," she says, pointing her finger in my face.
“Jacqueline and I met at a club," I say after a long pause.
"Yeah, I know that."
“No, you don't. We met at The Redemption.”
10
Dante
Marguerite narrows her eyes. "I've heard of that place. What's different about it?"
I don't know why I chose this particular instance to tell her something so private, but for some reason I do. She listens carefully as I tell her all about the club and how different it is from the usual nightlife spots.
“So, this is where you've been going?" Marguerite sits back, pulling her legs up into a Lotus position rather unsuccessfully. "You haven't just been going out dating, meeting one-night stands, but you've been going there?"
"Yeah.” I nod. "I mean, I go to bars, too, but I thought that it would be more honest this way. I thought that, I don't know, I could just have some fun, but I wouldn't have to have all of these explanations and nobody would wait for me to call."
"And that's where you met this girl that you can't stop thinking about?"
I nod. I've told her some of the truth, but of course not all of it. I haven't told her that I've been watching Jacqueline. At first, just to see if she was okay but then because I couldn't make myself stop.
"So you met her there and you two what? Fooled around?"
"Yes," I admit.
"And what then?"
"Then I went back looking for her. I wanted to run into her again by accident, but on purpose."
"And?"
"And, I don't know. It just didn't work out that way."
"But I thought that you went to Minnesota, I thought that you two had a good time?"