The Lies That Bind(78)

I look at him, amused, and instantly loosen up a bit. “Ha,” I laugh.

“Me, me, me, me,” he says under his breath. “Been like that since we were kids.”

As we both look at her, Darcy glances our way and says, “Been like what since we were kids?”

“And she has elephant ears,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Darcy blinks, stares, and all but puts her hand on her hip. “Been like what since we were kids?” she demands again.

Ethan gives her an innocent look and says, “Nothing.”

“Rachel,” Darcy says, now staring at her friend, “make him tell me.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Rachel replies with a laugh.

“Tell. Me,” Darcy says, poking Ethan’s shoulder.

“Dude. Don’t touch me,” he says.

“Don’t call me dude.”

“All righty, dude.”

“Ugh. You’re such a nerd.”

    Ethan shrugs. “And? So?”

Their routine continues for a moment, until Darcy moves on to another story. I tune her out, and Ethan must be doing the same because he turns to me, while she’s still talking, and says under his breath, “So. It’s nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I say, my heart pounding as I look around the table. To my relief, nobody seems to be paying any attention to us.

“How’s your novel coming along?” he asks.

“It’s kind of stalled, unfortunately,” I say.

“That’s understandable,” he says. “It’s been really hard for me to write, too. I just keep turning on the news, expecting something else….”

“Yeah,” I say, knowing that feeling all too well.

“And how about your job? At The Mercury?”

“Ugh. The same,” I say with an eye roll. “I really need to get my résumé out there—but that’s sort of stalled, too.”

He nods, then says, “Well, I hear you’ve been a little busy. Congratulations on your engagement.” He points down at my ring.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling self-conscious and irrationally disloyal to Grant—like I moved on from him too quickly. Then again, maybe Ethan doesn’t know a thing; maybe it’s all in my head. Either way, I remind myself that I did nothing wrong—and that the only loyalty I owe to anyone is to Matthew. “We’re excited.”

Ethan smiles and nods, as we both tune back in to the broader conversation.

But I never stop thinking about our connection to Grant, and later in the meal, I turn to him again and say under my breath, “I just want to say that I’m really sorry…about the loss of your friend.” I start to say Grant’s name but stop myself, just in case someone is listening.

“Thank you,” Ethan says. “I’m sorry for yours, too. I know how close you two were.”

“He told you?” I say, raising my eyebrows.

    He knows exactly what I’m getting at, judging by the way he checks to make sure nobody is listening and continues, his voice lower. “Yeah. He told me….”

“I didn’t know he was…” I glance over at Amy and mouth the last word: married.

“Yes. I know. He wanted to tell you….” Ethan says, speaking carefully and very quietly. “He was going to….”

I feel a rush of relief to have Byron’s statements corroborated, but then a larger wave of guilt that I’m sitting here at a dinner table with my fiancé having this conversation. Overwhelmed, I stare down at my plate, my food largely untouched, blinking back sudden tears. Managing to keep them at bay, I look up at Ethan and say, “I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Yes, it does,” Ethan says, nodding. “You know it does.”

“What are you two talking about now?” Darcy suddenly demands, looking at Ethan, then me, then back to Ethan.

Ethan rolls his eyes, and says, “Hey, Darcy? Mind your own business, for once.”

“Just tell me,” she says.

He sighs, then says, “We were just talking about love and loyalty. Stuff you wouldn’t understand.”

“Says the guy without a girlfriend,” Darcy snaps back, making a face at him.

I smile, pretending to be amused by their banter. Pretending that I’m not hearing the words love and loyalty on a loop in my head.



* * *



—

Somehow, I manage to get through the dinner, holding it together until Matthew and I are alone again, in the back of a cab, headed to his place.

“Are you okay?” he says. “You’re so quiet.”

“Yeah,” I say. “I just think I might be coming down with something…a little cold or something….Maybe I should go home. Alone.”

    “Are you sure?” he says. “You don’t want me to come with you?”

I shake my head and say, “I think I just need a good night’s sleep.”

“Okay, honey,” Matthew says, then leans up to tell our cabbie that we are adding a stop to the trip.



* * *



—

Once back in my apartment, I fall completely off the wagon, suffering a massive Grant relapse. I reread my entire email exchange with Byron. Then I go back and read everything Grant and I wrote to each other over the summer, including his postcard from Venice, which I should have thrown away, but instead just put in a different drawer. I even listen to old voicemails on my answering machine and cellphone—something I haven’t been able to do since 9/11. I tell myself it will be cathartic—the final, final step in my cleanse—but instead it’s just devastatingly sad.