I just wanted to I mean, Rachel told me you guys are getting divorced and I wanted to say I'm sorry. You know, that really sucks. Marriage is hard. I almost admired the audacity of it, calling me to offer sympathy for the marriage he'd helped destroy, speaking about it like it was some natural disaster rather than a deliberate demolition. Is that why you called Marcus to tell me marriage is hard?
A pause. I called because I think we should talk in pure in person. Clear the air. You know, we used to be friends. We were never friends.
We were friendly. There's a difference. Friends don't sleep with each other's wives. Another pause longer this time. Look, I know you're angry.
I'm not angry. And as I said it, I realized it was true. The rage that had consumed me for weeks had burned itself out, leaving something colder and clearer in its place. Anger implies I'm still surprised by what happened. I'm past that now.
Then why won't you meet with me? Let me explain. Explain what? The mechanics of how you seduced my wife. The rationale for why 6 months of lying was justified.
The philosophy behind booking a romantic vacation with someone else's spouse. I spun my chair to face the window, watched the cardinal land on the fence outside. I already know the story, Marcus. Rachel told me everything. She told you her version.
I think you should hear mine. Why would your version be any different? Because there are things she doesn't know. Things about why I am. He stopped abruptly.
Just meet me. One coffee. That's all I'm asking. Something in his tone caught my attention. A threat of desperation, of calculation.
He wanted something specific from this meeting. Needed to control some aspect of the narrative that Rachel hadn't given him access to. Fine, I said. Tomorrow, Java House on Main Street, 9:00 a.m. Thank you.
Really, James, I appreciate I hung up before he could finish. Appreciation from the man who betrayed me wasn't currency I was interested in accepting. That night, I lay in bed, the same bed where this had all started, where Rachel had brought her lies and her guilt and her betrayal, and thought about what Marcus might want, what information he was scared I had or desperate to share or hoping to learn. The call hadn't been about clearing the air or offering apologies. It had been reconnaissance, a way to gauge what I knew, what Rachel had told me, where the fault lines in their story might be, which meant there were fault lines, which meant the story I'd heard from Rachel wasn't complete.