Stephen Dixon - Friends - More Will and Magna Stories

“Thanks, but that’s not quite exact. If anyone, you know that. I’ve been impossible with some women and some haven’t been too easy on me. I don’t mean you. That was something different.”

“How so?”

“Well, I mean, I was with you longer than with anyone I’ve known, and I was really in love with you and it was really reciprocated, so we had everything: good, great, indifferent and bad.”

“That’s what I meant, really. That when you finally choose someone permanent, it’d be, and same with her, like the way I said.”

“Then I guess I’d agree.”

“Terrific. We got that settled. So, and not because this is long distance — I’ve a company card for that — it’s been nice talking to you, Will. It’s actually been great. It made my day, when Lilly told me the news. Married, she said — can I believe it? Nobody — at your age — thought you ever would. And she loves Magna. Pretty and gentle and intelligent, etcetera, she said about her. I love it. Love everything about it. That you’ve been so kind and attentive to Lilly since we broke up I love most of all. You changed her way of looking at men, probably forever. She’ll know that one day. You did it by continuing to see her and love her as a friend, rather than till you stopped living with us, and putting her in your plans. That they have — men do — this other side to them — the female side — or can have it — or maybe they always do, but you just didn’t suppress it — so you made her see them as more complete people and with a stabler eye. That doesn’t make sense. As stabler, thoughtful, gentle creatures I mean, and rounder, more complete. I mean — oh — I love you. Marry me.”

“Uh, what?”

“Oh Jesus, I said it. ‘I love you. Marry me.’ I said it. But I mean it. This week. And you heard me. Don’t make it worse for me — harder. Do you think you can do it? Because I swear, I swear, it’ll work out. I’ll give you a child.”

“Now wait wait wait—”

“I’m older than Magna but I can still have a child. I’ve been tested, and I want one more in the worst way. I’ll be a great mother. You’ve seen me be one. And I’ll be much better with you than I was even in our best moments. I’ll honor us always.”

“Linda — hold on — listen to me.”

“A loving wife. I mean, within reason of course. Meaning, if we love one another it’ll be as near to perfect as a marriage can be. I’ll see to it. I’ll work as hard as I ever worked on anything for that. And I’d never forget what you were giving up, nor ever gloat over it. So marry me. Run away with me even. Tonight even. I mean it. Could you? Will you? And I’m not pulling your leg. And running away isn’t — aren’t the words I want to use. I can fly or train to Baltimore or you can come to New York, and if not tonight then sometime this week.”

“No I can’t. Thank you though for asking. Listen, how do I answer this? — but it wouldn’t be right. And I am — I’m very satisfied with Magna. Honestly.”

“Too bad. I just thought — well, just too bad. I gave it a shot. I wanted it to. It was on my mind. I still do. I’d still love for you to say yes, you’ll marry me. You know everything could be good. I’d be everything to you, which isn’t to say Magna isn’t now. And what else? Just that I love you, and it’s not just some craziness in my head that I do, and I can’t bear to think I’m going to be alone.”

“You won’t be for long. You’re really wonderful — truly so. You have everything.”

“I’m 41.”

“And I’m 46. And a man, so the age difference, I know — but so what? But whatever. I can’t. You understand. And if I’m flubbing in what I’m trying to say, it’s not my fault. I love you and did then when we were together as much as I love Magna now. I mean I love her as much now as I loved you then, and I still think the world of you. But Magna and I are working — together, we’re just together, very close — you know, and getting married.”

“Of course. I just thought you might go for it. No, that sounds too flippant. I just meant it, period. And if you had gone for it, I would have done whatever you wanted. Given up my job. I still would if you’d go for it. I’d go wherever you wanted. That’s a lot different an attitude than I had before.”

“It is, but please. We’ll get together when Lilly comes in. She is coming around Christmas time you said. She said so too.”

“Yes. That’ll be nice. We’ll have dinner. You’re not mad at me that I asked?”

“No. But it’s — well, you know.”

“It’s something you might have done, but about ten years ago, right?”

“Six, seven even. I guess. Yes. It is. Maybe.”

“Oh, I could kick myself that we didn’t work out. For all I know, maybe the timing wasn’t as bad as I thought then and as you said it wasn’t. I can be such a fool.”

“No, you were terrific then. I loved you and all that and you were right. It wasn’t the right time. It never would have worked.”

“Then why’d you think it would?”

“I was wrong.”

“When I got pregnant it would have. You wanted the baby so much. I should have had it. First of all, it would have been closer in age to Lilly and safer to deliver. And after a year, I still would have been able to do what I’ve done by now, or maybe just be a year behind. I can kick myself, kick myself. You were such a lovey aboutit. Terrible about other things sometimes, but never horrible. Just temperamental, but you would have become what you are now, mellowed, and maybe even quicker than it took you without the baby and me. And combining that with your overall loveiness, it would have been perfect. I’m sure of it.”

“Probably. I’m sorry. And I’m still fairly terrible at times. Honestly, it isn’t so easy for Magna, though it is easier than it was for you. It’ll be the same for you with someone else. Next man you land — that’ll be the best one.”

“I hope you’re right. But one more last chance? You won’t run away with me? I won’t ask you again.”

“Wish I could but I can’t.”

“Now you’re being just cutesy.”

“Then no, I really can’t, Linda. I’m getting married in two months, but your offer was certainly attractive.”

“Now you’re being charming.”

“Then I just can’t — what do you want me to say? — I just can’t. I love Magna too much. And I can’t just drop her — what the hell you think I am? And we want to have a kid. We want to do a lot of things. I’m deeply, deeply in love with her, and your invitation, if I’m supposed to take it seriously, is plain ridiculous, did you know? And if I’m not supposed to take it seriously, well, I don’t know. It’s either silly or not thought out or maybe even vindictive, but it’s something that sure the hell surprises me coming from you.”

“Now you’re being too honest. But that’s the best of the bunch I guess. You know…”

“What? Really what? Because actually, I have a—”

“Don’t talk about work you have to do now.”

“Okay, I won’t. What is it you were going to say?”

“I really did think there might have been a chance.”

“Then you’re saying you were serious? Because if you were, then I apologize.”

“I was, very much so. It was a long shot, but a chance. You rat. Because now, finally, you’d be happy with me.”

“Please, no more?”

“Very happy — believe me you would. Me too. Oh, you’d feel horrible about her for a while, but you’d eventually get over it. Because you’re still in love with me somewhat — admit it — and that would be enough to start on. Or actually don’t. Say you’re not if you want.”

“I’m not, really. I think about you a little and dream about you more than I have in years, but I’m not quite sure what that all means. Maybe I’m anxious — you know, that I don’t want to happen with Magna what happened with you, because if it did I’d think that’d be the end of ever having a close relationship with a woman — so that’s coming up. Because the situations in some ways are the same. Being with one person so long, thinking about having a baby, possibility of marriage, and so on. But in that special way, I’m now only in love with Magna. Now that’s the truth. I swear it.”