Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene Seventy

Talia was perched on the couch, painting her toenails when Maisie got home a couple hours later.  She quickly began screwing the brush back into the bottle and stood on her heels.

"You don't need to leave," Maisie said.  "I'm going to my room."

Talia resumed her seat.  "You don't have to hide out either," she said.  "How was brunch?"

"Pretty entertaining."

"What happened?"  The tone was cautious, as if Talia didn't want to push too far too soon.  Just a second later, Dashwood emerged from Maisie's room, strutted straight past her, and hopped up on the couch with Talia. He curled up in her lap; she automatically stroked his head and neck and he began to him like a diesel engine.

"You two have put your differences aside, I see."

"Yeah, I guess so.  He's not as asshole-y as other cats."

"He's exactly as asshole-y as other cats."

Talia laughed.  "We must have gotten used to each other, then."

Maisie nodded and turned towards her door, but saw Talia reach out a hand out of the corner of her eye.

"Wait, Maze."

She stopped and waited.

"I want to talk with you, about George, how it started, what's happening.  I miss you.  Who else is going to tell me if the guy is a douche or not good enough, or listen to the date play-by-play breakdown and help me analyze it.  Please, Maze."

"I could have been that for you all month, but you-"

"I know, I kept it from you and I shouldn't have.  You were right the other night about keeping secrets.  I knew you were right then, but I rationalized it saying there was no way you had told me every single thing."

Maisie shook her head and walked across the room.  She sat in the armchair by the fireplace.  "That's not even what I'm angry about.  Yeah, it hurt that you didn't confide in me about something so big happening in your life, but I was just as much to blame.  When was the last time I asked how things were going in your life?  The thing that made me mad, that felt like a betrayal, was that you thought I had feelings for him and dated him anyway."

"I know, and I'm so sorry."

"Why would you do that?"

Talia mimed pulling out her hair.  "I have to plead insanity.  I got swept up.  George was so kind to me.  Always - every time we interacted - just because I was your friend.  No, that's not true, because it was the way he was with everyone.  He treated me like a person, with my own thoughts and goals and hopes and it made me realize just how shitty all the 'nice' guys I'd been dating actually were."

Maisie leaned forward, elbows on her knees, to listen.

"He never even flirted with me, not really, when he was here hanging around, so when he asked me out I wasn't expecting it and the 'yes' came out so quickly I couldn't stop it.  I think probably, up until that point, my belief that you had feelings for him kept me from seeing the signs, because he told me he'd been trying to gauge whether I'd be interested for almost a year."

"A year?" Maisie repeated.

"And when he told me that, it was over for me, because not once during that year had I felt objectified or harassed, or anything other than his friend and I knew if I said 'no' to the date offer, he wouldn't suddenly start complaining about the friendzone or act like I owed him for sex for being a decent human being."

"He'd never," Maisie agreed.

"I never told him my suspicions about your relationship, because I was afraid if I mentioned it, he'd realize he had feelings for you, too, and he'd dump me for you."  Her voice wavered, but after a deep, steadying breath, she raised her eyes to meet Maisie's.  "I'm really sorry.  I should have told you.  I should have just asked you if you liked him.  I know I handled it wrong."

Maisie stood and crossed to her; Talia got her feet as well, and Maisie enveloped her in a hug.  "How could you possibly think he'd leave you for me?  You're amazing - beautiful, vivacious, smart, and witty.  You're the entire package."

Talia strengthened her grip.  "We both are."

Maisie laughed.  "Damn straight."