But not yet. Not tonight. Tonight was for endings. Tomorrow would be for the truth. 3 days after Rachel signed into the divorce papers, Marcus finally called me.
I was in my home office, our former shared space, now just mine. Sorting through tax documents and trying to figure out how to divide a life when his name appeared on my phone screen. I let it ring four times before answering. Each ring a small assertion of control. James.
His voice was cautious, overly friendly in that way people get when they know they've done something unforgivable and are trying to pretend they haven't. Hey man, I've been meaning to reach out. Have you? I kept my voice flat, made it a statement instead of a question. Yeah, listen.
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.