Dating By Numbers. Jennifer Lohmann
rinsed with mouthwash, Marsie made another attempt toward the stairs. She tiptoed, trying to be as quiet as possible as she got close enough to the top of the staircase to fully judge if the argument was over. Several breaths later, she deemed it safe to go down.
Beck was standing in the kitchen, her back to Marsie. The first drips of morning coffee hit the bottom of the carafe, and the delicious scent was beginning to make its way across the kitchen to Marsie’s nose. But even with the slight hangover, her friend’s shaking shoulders were more important than the first cup of coffee.
She put her hand on Beck’s lower back. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Beck sniffed, still trying to cover up the fact that she was crying. “Yes. I don’t know.”
“How about I fix you a cup of coffee while you think about what you want to say.” Marsie kept one palm in contact with her friend while she got mugs out of the cabinet and set them on the counter. Then she busied herself pouring cream in a pitcher while the coffee finished brewing. When it was done, she made her friend a cup with extra sugar and cream, then steered her to the living room so they could sit.
Whatever Beck was crying over, it was not a conversation to be had sitting on bar stools.
Marsie had finished her entire mug of coffee by the time Beck put hers down, full, on the table, and looked ready to speak. “Neil and I are going to get a divorce.”
Marsie’s cup clanged on the glass of the table when she set it down with more force than she’d intended. “Like you’ve seen a lawyer and you’re getting your separation agreement ready, or like you’re fighting a lot and it’s scary?”
What she wanted to ask was, “Why the hell is this the first I’m hearing about it? I thought we were friends?” but even in her not-quite-hungover state, she knew that wasn’t supportive.
Beck reached for her mug, brought it to her lips, then set it back down without drinking anything. “No lawyers.” She sighed. “Maybe I exaggerated. I don’t know. Right now, it feels like divorce is coming at any moment.”
“What are you arguing about?” Marsie asked, her hand braced on the side of the couch. Of all her coupled friends, Beck and Neil were the ones she thought least likely to split. They’d been together forever, seemed to have the same life goals and, well, just seemed in step.
“Money, of course. Sex.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. Don’t all couples fight about those things?”
Beck shrugged. “Sure. I mean, we’ve always had tensions over what to do with our money and how much sex to have or who gets what fantasy. But the past couple months, it’s been different. Meaner.”
“Oh.” Marsie wouldn’t be so worried if Beck were crying, but instead her friend kept blinking away the tears in her eyes. Like if she didn’t cry them, then they weren’t there. She put her hand on Beck’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.
Her friend looked up at the ceiling and blinked several times. It wasn’t enough to keep tears from running down her face. “I want a kid.”
And Neil didn’t. He’d never made a secret of that fact.
“Oh, honey.” Marsie wrapped her arm around Beck and pulled her close. Finally, her friend started to cry.
Beck cried noisy snotty tears onto Marsie’s shoulder. She shook with grief for several minutes while Marsie held on to her, not able to offer anything but support while her best friend fell to pieces in her arms.
When Beck’s sobs slowed, she sat up and wiped her nose on her sleeve. She had to use both arms and the fabric of her T-shirt was gross by the end. Wiping her cheeks with the heel of her hand didn’t do anything but spread the dampness around.
“Here, use mine,” Marsie said, offering up her arms. They looked at each other for a moment and giggled before Beck leaned over and wiped her cheeks on Marsie’s already damp sleeves. When she sat back up, they giggled again. Not that anything about this morning was funny, but they both needed the release of tension.
“Do you need a fresh cup of coffee?” Marsie asked.
Beck nodded. “And tissues.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.” It broke Marsie’s heart to see her friend curl up on the couch again, protecting herself from the grizzly bears of the world.
She got them both another cup of coffee and stuck a box of tissues under her arm. Beck drank about half her cup of coffee as soon as Marsie handed it to her.
“Thank you,” Beck said.
“It’s what friends are for.” The only sounds in the living room were the ticktock of the clock and the slurping of hot coffee until Marsie asked, “Why didn’t you say anything about this earlier?”
“You were starting online dating again and so into it with your research and your beta testing. I didn’t want to sound like a downer by complaining about my marriage.”
“I’m your friend. I want to hear about your downers.”
Beck’s head fell against the back of the couch. “God, now I’m failing at being a friend, too.” Her tone was light and she had a slight smile on her face, but Marsie could tell that her friend believed the nonsense she was spouting.
“You’re not failing at being a friend, but I hope you feel like you can talk to me. No matter what, we’re here for each other.”
Beck set her now empty cup on the coffee table and leaned against Marsie. “Always.”
* * *
BACK AT WORK on Monday, Marsie checked the clock on her computer. She was supposed to meet with the vice president in charge of research in twenty minutes. She’d prepare for the meeting, but she didn’t know what it was about, other than a new grant application. All her emails had been either replied to or sorted into the appropriate folders and...
And she was coming up with excuses to justify checking her online dating profile. She’d spent all of Sunday with Beck, goofing off and talking about everything under the sun that didn’t have a penis attached to it. Late Sunday afternoon a notification had shown up on her phone that there was a message. Marsie had ignored it.
But now that little icon at the top of her phone was calling her name.
Marsie spun around in her chair, away from her computer. Checking her profile on her work computer was a mistake she would only make once. She dug her phone out of her purse and set it on her desk. Then she took a deep breath and tapped the app.
“Are you looking at what I think you’re looking at?” Jason’s voice asked from her doorway.
“What?” She exhaled all her frustration and embarrassment into the word, inwardly cursing the universe. “Do you have a tap into my computer?”
He raised one finger and one eyebrow. “If I did, I’d have to have a tap on your phone, too.” He smiled, all charm and ease. “How’s online dating going?”
“Fine.” That was close to the actual truth of, I don’t know. Or, I’m afraid to look.
No. She swallowed her sigh. I don’t know would have been a true enough answer. She hadn’t wanted to do this alone, and Beck wasn’t able to go along for the ride right now.
“You don’t have a very good poker face,” he said, an amused smile dancing on his face.
“No, but I’m hard to beat online,” she retorted, pleased that she had clearly caught him off guard with her answer.
“You really play poker online?”
“Played,” she corrected. “The heydays of online poker winning are over, but it’s just a math game. And I’m good at math.”
He nodded, clearly still reeling from the shock of imagining her playing online poker but