"You okay, Rosie?" he would always ask.
"Yeah," I would usually respond.
But most of the time I wasn't sure if I was okay. I wasn't sure of anything, really. I didn't know how he felt. I didn't even know how I felt about him. I wasn't supposed to, anyway. After all, he's Selena's husband. She and I have been friends forever.
If I was certain of anything, it was that Marcus is a good guy. He is smart and funny. He is compassionate and very understanding. I guess that's why he had put up with Selena for so long. But I suppose her being so pretty made it easier too.
My last boyfriend, Jake, wasn't so understanding. He broke my heart. I guess that's what I get for being too superficial. But Marcus gives me hope that one day I'll find someone that has both a beautiful face and a heart to match.
One hot summer after noon, I called Selena to let her know I was free and could be there in ten minutes if she was home. It was the usual weekend ritual.
"Yeah," She said.
I heard her shouting down to Marcus in the basement, where he usually spends his time fiddling with his guitar. The sound was muffled, but I could still make out the conversation.
"We're not doing anything today, right, hon? Roseanne wants to drop by."
I heard him shout a response. "Yeah. No. We're good. But you do have to make a trip to see those guys. You gotta get that thing sorted out."
"Oh yeah. That's right." She uncovered the phone. "Yeah. I just have to run some errands. But Marcus will be home," She said.
"Cool. See you then."
I slipped into my shorts, pulled on a T-shirt and tied up my hair. It was way too hot to wear anything else. And besides, I had no one to impress at the moment.
I waited a while before I headed over, but when I got there, the car was still not in their driveway.
Marcus answered the door. He must've been spending a lot of time in the basement. He hadn't shaved as yet. With his guitar in his hand, I thought, for a brief moment, that he looked rather sexy. I quickly dismissed that thought.
He greeted me with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, as he sometimes does, and there was a faint smile on his face. Towering over me, he gestured an invitation. "Yeah. Sorry. She's not back as yet. Come in. Make yourself at home."
I sat on the couch and turned on the TV.
"You want something to drink?" he asked, as he opened the door of the refrigerator.
"Thanks. But I'm alright."
"Okay. I'm just finishing up something downstairs. I'll be back in a bit."
"No problem." I started to mindlessly flip through the channels.
Soon I heard some music coming from the basement. Marcus sang beautifully, but I couldn't make out the words. I wanted to hear a little more, though. I muted the TV and as I headed down to the basement, I could hear some of the lyrics:
"...I love you and her, but she's been good to me. But I wonder, where you and I could be..."
I must've startled him because he stopped all of a sudden. For a moment, he looked as though he'd seen a ghost. Then another smile.