"I need you to come over now," he said. "it's sort of an emergency."
She held the phone against her shoulder as she walked, looking through her purse for her keys. The parking lot was vast but nearly empty, and every time she parked on this side of the hospital she regretted it after her shift.
"Why havent you called Rachel?" she said. She glanced at the moon, the way it seemed to snarl deviously down at the earth like a jealous younger brother. "I just got out of work, i'm disgusting."
"Please, i need you right now," he said. "I can't talk to Rachel about this. I need to see you."
She started her car.
"Fine."
By the time she arrived to his place on the edge of South Mirk Street, it was past midnight. Every light seemed to be on in his high, third floor apartment; it stood out in the darkness of the neighborhood like a tower from a comic book, all the windows bright and glowing as if they were painted yellow.
She knocked lightly on the door, a floating mist of dread beginning to form in her chest. She wondered if he knew.
"Please, come in."
The apartment was always clean, even before she had introduced him to Rachel. The apartment had always been clean. She looked around the kitchen as he closed the door quietly.
"Rachel's not here," she said. "At least i didn't see her car on the street." She sat down at the small round table in the kitchen.
"Obviously she's not here. If she was here the only reason you would be here is if she invited you."
"Can i smoke in here, still?"
"Yes."
She lit a cigarette and crossed her legs. She was still wearing her hospital scrubs.
"Thank you for coming," he said. "I know you just got out of work. It's sort of an emergency."
"I'm assuming Rachel is fine?"
"Rachel is fine." He rubbed his hands through his hair, and over his face. She tried desperatley to be still. The dreadfulness rose into her throat, and for a moment she thought it would even force her to speak. Her eagerness to see him was barely under her control, and again, for a moment, she was positive that he knew.
"Please tell me." she said.
"I found something. Something that i think means something bad."
"What did you find?"
"A pair of boxers."
She chuckled, suprised. "What?"
"A pair of boxers. Under the bed." He rubbed his face again. "They're not mine."
She shook her head, her lips puckered.
"Maybe ... Rachel..."
"What? Bought one pair of boxers? And then, what? Hid them underneath the bed?" He laughed, scowling. "We both know what it means."
"You're sure they're not your boxers?" She inhaled deeply on the cigarette, watching him as he stood in silence, staring at the floor with his arms crossed. "Rachel really loves you a lot."
"They're not my boxers."
She stood up and went to the sink and ran her cigarette unerneath the faucet. As she sat back down she stuffed her hands into her sweatshirt pockets, trying to cover her stomach. If he didn't know, then she wasn't going to tell him.
"What are you gonna do?" she said.
"What can i do? Do i have a right to even be mad? After..."
"No," she said softly, her head sort of ducking forwards. She stared off into space. "You dont have that right."
"I mean i love her too," he started to pace. "That's why, you know," he pointed back and forth from himself to her, and then waved his hand in the air. "That's why i couldn't keep doing it."
She stared off into space. He doesn't know, she thought. She bit her upper lip as she frowned, trying to think of something to say.
"Rachel really loves you a lot."
"Do you think she is still cheating on me?"
She shook her head, her eyes blank and somewhere else. "No," she said, barely a whisper. She wanted desperatley to tell him. To grab him by the collar and kiss him and scream in his face as she made love to him, telling him over and over that she would never do that to him. She looked up at him, her eyes sad and dark. "I thought you were calling me here for something else, tonight."
He looked at her.
"And you still came? Even though thats what you thought?"
"You're the one who wanted to stop." She sniffed and looked out the window onto the dark streets below, wrapped up in blackness like a shroud. "I never wanted to stop."
He looked down. She crossed her arms over her stomach.
"I told you, i just can't."
"Even now?"
"Even now what?" he said.
"Even now that you've found this out?" she nodded towards the bedroom.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I am sorry."
"We were never .... together. Don't. It's Rachel you should be sorry to. You can't get mad at her: you dont have the right."
"Shouldn't you be sorry too?"
"Of course," she said. "But that doesn't change the way we feel."
"What?"
"Nothing."
"We?"
"It's nothing."
He stared at the wall. "I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't."
"I am."
"Is that all you needed me for this time?"
He frowned. "I have a headache."
"If the boxers arent yours then it's perfectly obvious. Is that really all you wanted with me tonight?"
"I didn't call you to sleep with you again."
"Then I'm going to leave now."
She stood suddenly and walked out of the kitchen, shutting the door gently behind her as she started down the stairs outside. He arms were still crossed low over her stomach.
She was barely two months, and now she knew what she would do with it.
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