Chapter 32

Marla called about ten Wednesday morning. Cecelia had fixed me one of my this-is-absolutely-not-breakfast morning meals, and was changing into her sweats so she could go out and lift some weights. I stuck my head in the bedroom door, told her I was going out and not to expect me till she saw me, and headed for the office.

Marla was still there when I arrived, sitting at her desk with a Coke beside her, reading one of her romance novels. I stuck out a finger and lifted the book so I could see the cover. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to try one of mine, Darv?" Marla asked me.

I sat in the chair beside her desk while she inserted her bookmark and set the book down. "Not me. I'll stick with what I like."

"And how do you know you won't like a romance?"

"'Cause I tried them things when I was in school, and they wasn't no good."

"Probably you just didn't read the right ones. Maybe I'll just put some of the best ones in a box and hand the box to you."

"Wouldn't do you no good, Marla. I wouldn't read 'em."

"Then I'll take the box by your house and give it to Cecelia. Do you think that would do it?"

"That oughta do it. I make it a point not to get her mad at me – she's got knives and knows how to use 'em. But though it would work, it ain't necessary. I've got a stack of romances at home that I'm gonna try here directly."

Marla playfully swatted at my hand, where it rested on her desk. "Oh hush, Darv! I know you're just joking." She took another look at me. "Or maybe you're not. Are you really going to try a romance novel?"

I looked at her. There are advantages to having an employee become a friend, and one of them is that you can be open without embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm joking about some of it. I do sometimes make Cecelia mad, but not on purpose. I hate it when she's mad, but not 'cause she'll cut me. It's 'cause I love her so much.

"But when it comes to the romance stuff, I'm telling the truth. Maybe it's your influence, maybe I'm just gettin' older, but I'm gonna break down and give 'em a shot."

"I know about you and Cecelia. Even if I didn't love my boyfriend, I'd never try you – you'd never even notice what I was doing."

I wasn't sure what that meant or where it came from, but it gave me a way to change the subject. "Speaking of which," I said, "when are y'all getting married?"

"Who says we're getting married?"

"Well, usually when two people love each other that's how they do things."

"Maybe in your day, Darv, but today things are different."

"'My day?' Egad, Marla, you're not that much younger than I am!"

"I'm 20 years old, Darv. I'm young enough to be your daughter."

"My daughter's nine."

"That's just because you didn't get married till you were 30. But if you'd had a daughter when you were 21, she'd be my age."

I rarely feel my age, not that 41's old, but just then I wondered if I shouldn't just grow a long gray beard and retire to a rocking chair. I'd known Marla's age, but it had never hit me before just what relationship it had to mine. I knew a guy who'd had two daughters by the time he was 21; both of 'em would be older than Marla by now, and he was my age. I shook my head. "Time passes quick, I guess, when you're not paying it no mind," I said. "Okay, 'my day' was a bit longer ago than I thought. But you're worrying me, Marla – surely you aren't planning to just move in with your boyfriend."

"Actually he wants to move in with me."

I tugged at my mustache, thinking how to ask my next question. "Don't slap me, Marla, but ... are y'all two..."

"Are we sleeping with each other? No, not yet, anyway."

It was time to maybe strain things a little. "Marla, I'm not just your boss, I'm your friend. That maybe gives me a few rights your boss wouldn't have." She nodded. "Take it from someone who's got experience in this regard – don't go to bed with him until and unless you're married to him. It's just not the same otherwise."

"Darvin, I'm no virgin."

"Neither was I when I got married. And for 11 years now I've wished I had been. There are some things you can't ever change, some things you can't ever undo. And that's one of 'em. At least I didn't cheapen our first time together by going to bed with Cecelia before we got married, not that she'd have done it. If I'd tried, she'd have slapped my face and never had anything to do with me again, I think. And she'd have been right."

Marla looked away – at the wall behind me, maybe, beside the door. "I guess I have some rights too because I'm your friend," she said. "Was Cecelia a virgin when you got married?"

"She was – and I am so proud of her on that account. She understood the value of that first time. She knew that once it's over, you can't do anything later on to change it. We've never talked about it, not as such anyway, but I know what she'd tell me, 'cause it's what I'm telling you: There's only one first time. Don't waste it."

"My first time was in high school."

"I started younger than you, then. But there are different first times. I wish – oh, how I wish! – that I'd waited till I was married. But at least my first time with Cecelia was on our wedding night, and not a cheap meaningless thing outside of marriage."

She took a drink of her Coke, and as she put the cap back on I saw that her hands were shaking, just slightly. "I don't know, Darvin," she said.

"Look, Marla, I've pushed because we're friends, and for no other reason. I hate to see a friend do the wrong thing. But I've pushed maybe over the line, and I'll not push anymore. I can tell you what I believe and what I know, and I've done that. From here on out, it's your life and you have to live it yourself. I can't live it for you. I just want you to live it rightly."

"I know that, Darv. That's why I've let you tell me these things, even when I didn't want to hear them. And I won't just forget what you've said. I'll think about it, and who knows – maybe I'll change my mind. But anyway I don't think I'm ready to live with my boyfriend, so he won't move in yet."

"If that's the best you can do, it's the best you can do." I put my hand on her shoulder for a moment. "But I gotta sign the checks – and I'll take one of the checks with me, along with the cash; I wanna deliver it personal."

"Okay, Darv. I should be here when you're ready to go, but if I'm not just put everything back on my desk."

I got up from the chair. "And where else, madam, do you think I would put it?" I asked, smiling, and went into my office. I heard Marla laughing behind me as I closed the door.

Beth and her husband lived on Burton Avenue, near Bandelier Elementary in Nob Hill. At least on the map it shows as Nob Hill, though I tend to think of that neighborhood a little more narrowly. Nob Hill was one of the first developments outside of the river bottom in which the original Spanish settlers had built, and at the time it was on the outskirts of town. These days the city extends much further east, and Nob Hill has become a comfortable place, though along Central you'll find all sorts of "trendy" stuff, like people who seem to be trying to accumulate every piercing on earth, and little shops that are so self-consciously on the cutting edge that you wonder how they ever actually transact business.