Jennifer Lohmann - Dating By Numbers

The mattress sank as her butt hit, helping to steady her when she put on her socks. Everything about Beck’s guest room was cushiony. Her feet sank into the rug. The mattress had practically swallowed her whole. The curtains had enough fabric to be properly called draperies. The only nonsoft things in this room were the tchotchkes covering every flat surface and the wood of the four-poster. The guest room made up for the rest of the house with its hard edges and modern furniture. Whenever Marsie stayed over, she wondered if this was what the rest of the house would be like if Beck lived alone, or if she put all her girly decorating energy into this one room and the effect would be diluted if she had the entire house to play with.

Not that Marsie imagined she would ever find out. Beck and Neil had been together since their first year of a college and, since Marsie had known them, had only seemed to grow into a more solid couple.

As she passed the mirror over the dresser on the way to the door, she considered checking her hair. But if her hair was as bad as she thought, she’d feel the need to fix it, and she didn’t think she had the energy. Better not to know.

The sound of a couple arguing assaulted her ears as soon as she opened the door. Not that Beck and Neil were being loud, but the anger in their voices pulsed through the house like a sonic wave. She shut the door, then backed into the room and sank her butt back into the bed with a sigh.

All couples fought, at least according to all the books she read—both when she had still been trying to work things out with Richard and in preparation for knowing if her own future marriage was healthy. Apparently fighting could even be good for a marriage. Better to get everything out in the open. Of course, all the books stressed the importance of how couples fight, but she wasn’t going to listen at the door to evaluate how Beck and Neil were doing.

Instead, she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and opened her dating app.

Nothing.

This was what she had remembered from last time ’round. People said women were inundated with requests for sex and a boob shot, but she never had been. Which was fine by her. But despite all the preparation that had gone into this round of online dating, she was no more successful than when she’d plopped her résumé online and crossed her fingers.

Marsie Penny, you are smarter than that. She tossed her phone to the end of the bed. She’d also been told not to take anything that happened in online dating personally. Anyway, she’d started back into this thing only last night. There was no way she could interpret one night of no responses as an indication of her worthiness as a person. That was the hangover and listening to her best friend’s marital spat talking. Plus, if she allowed herself to go down this road, she’d be entering a dark, scary forest from which she might not return. She had to remain positive and not take anything that happened in online dating to heart.

Easier said than done. Especially with her phone still within arm’s reach. She had set herself up a schedule of when she could check for messages, and she’d be breaking that schedule if she checked again.

And Jason said online dating was fun! Well, she’d never understood Jason, and thinking about online dating and him didn’t help her comprehension. She needed to stop thinking about him at all, unless it was in relation to work. Work was safe.

What she needed was to get out of this room and leave her phone ensconced in the divot made by the down comforter. She could make it to the bathroom without infringing on her friend’s privacy. Though that meant she wouldn’t be able to escape fixing her hair.

Once out of the bathroom, her hair fixed and her mouth 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.