giving up the gun (1/3)
giving up the gun
the social network, mark/eduardo, chris/dustin
featuring girl!mark and girl!chris, but not girl!wardo or girl!dustin
notes: I've been working on this off and on since... June? July? Not sure, but most of it was written in Massachusetts. It is LONG (~17,500 words). It is hopefully emotional? It is proofread!
part two
part three
so now I am going to post this and watch SNL with Emma Stone and see if Andrew Garfield pops up. He did! I am psychic! So now it's watch for Jesse Eisenberg, even if the rest of the episode kind of sucks and Coldplay is actually giving me a headache
hey you guys Andy Samberg is UPSIDE DOWN this is delightful
The hearing is a waste of her time.
Okay. Her lawyers would tell her to take everything more seriously. Her lawyers would tell her that there's money at stake, serious money, as well as much of her reputation and that she's not only being sued once, she's being sued twice and would she please stop doodling cats during testimony, Mark.
Whatever, it isn't like she's kidding when she says that she has better things to do, because she actually does. She's not sure why they still don't get that the money isn't what matters.
And it's easier to draw cats than it is to be forced to reflect about all the shit that went down. So.
Look, it's just... there's a lot of things she doesn't care about. There's a lot of things. Like, she doesn't care about music that same way that Dustin does, or politics the way that Chris does (except she does it in this everything-is-fucked-up way where she's pretty sure Chris is just watching a doomed ship sink). She doesn't care about what people think.
That's not true. She cares a lot about what people think. She just doesn't care about what he thinks anymore. And if that's going to get her through the endless legal procedures, then once it's done, the first thing we do let's kill all the lawyers and get back to her wonderful company, please, where she can care as publicly as she likes and needs so that she can change things, so that she can have a serious effect on the world.
Oh yes, the lawyers. Well, their job is to dig up everything, whether it happens sooner or it happens later. It's what she expects, it's what she pays them to do. But Eduardo's lawyers are good as well, no expense spared. A lot of stuff is going to come out and it won't be pretty.
But it's okay. She doesn't care about the lawyers, and she doesn't care about Eduardo. (Anymore).
(That's a lie, Mark).
(Stop thinking in parentheses).
Besides. There's a limit to how far the law can take them, and hopefully this will be over before she actually has to confront him. They can stretch it out, but eventually even Sy and Gretchen will run out of things to talk about.
-
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: mark@facebook.com
Subject: you okay?
Hey,
just wanted to make sure that everything was alright with you out there in California. Things are getting insane here over studying drama and random crap-- it must be nice not to have to worry about that anymore.
I mean, not that you don't have stuff to deal with on your own right now.
Sorry. You know that I'm really bad at this sort of thing over email, Mark. Call me so I can know what's up and we can actually try to talk.
Love,
Chris
From: mark@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: you okay?
Hi.
I'm fine. Don't worry about the lawsuits. My lawyers have informed me that they do not want the case with Eduardo to go to court, so we will probably end up settling once everything is over, however much longer that takes. It could be days or it could be months. The Winklevosses are a different story. They're less sympathetic. Apparently they could end up looking just as bad as I would to a jury if we play it right, so we'll see about that. There could be a settlement, but I don't know what they want from me besides my writing an editorial in the Crimson announcing Facebook was their idea and I'm signing the company over to them, which is clearly untrue and not ever happening.
It's okay. Don't worry about it.
-Mark
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: what's up
Dustin. Hi.
You PROMISED me you would take care of Mark. She's my roommate and I can't watch out for her from across the country, besides, I am getting very worryingly robotic email responses from her. And it's not like Eduardo can do it either, since he's suing her for gazillions of dollars and all.
Fix things please. I'm worried.
Love,
Chris
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: I'm trying
I really am I swear.
But it's Mark, you know? she hates having people do things for her, even if it's like, buying her a real lunch. I never thought it was humanly possible for a person to survive solely on beer and like, twizzlers and shit. The more you know.
how am I supposed to fix this?
Love you too.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: hide the twizzlers in the vegetable crisper
That girl will eat salad if you have to force her, I swear. Twizzlers and beer? DUSTIN. I am beginning to suspect that my best girl friend is actually a 15 year old boy at heart.
Look, try talking to her. That works with people. Always works with you, anyways.
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: huh
I asked, and she said she's calling you later tonight. Hope the time difference doesn't fuck things up too much, I'm curious now.
she was eating saltines and seltzer. that's an improvement?
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: Re: huh
No it is not an improvement. That's just sugar and carbs. Though I guess seltzer is better than Red Bull.
And okay, I'll talk to Mark and find out, since you are apparently incapable of doing so.
And do not say that it is because you are a dude.
-
She begins to switch it up at the other deposition. Draws birds and flowers instead of cats.
God she wants this over with. The Winklevoss twins are and have always been idiots. Fine. They're entitled and pissed that for once, something didn't go exactly the way they wanted it to in their silver-spooned lives, or maybe they're pissed off that they got beaten by someone who couldn't have made it into their stupid little club unless she wasn't fully clothed.
But the other deposition, the other lawsuit-- well, it sucks that her lawyers won't even let her talk to Eduardo. Yell at him. Whatever it would take so she could have a chance at making him understand.
-
"Chris?"
Chris switches the phone to her other ear, nestles it between her head and shoulder while she ties damp hair into a sloppy bun. "Hey Mark. Dustin said you wanted to talk to me?"
"Yes. Please. I can't talk about this to anyone else." She sounds anxious, which is new, coming from Mark.
"Mark, if it's a legal thing it's fine to talk about it with Dustin. I know I disparage him a lot but he is actually a very intelligent person."
"It's not a legal thing. And my lawyers told me I shouldn't talk about that with anyone other than them."
"Okay." She pauses, letting Mark fill in the silence.
"It's just, I don't have Wardo to talk to anymore."
"Yes..." Chris trails off.
"And I can't talk to Erica even though she's my only other female friend because I think I've pissed her off irreparably--" but not pissed off Eduardo irreparably, Chris wonders, but there's no time for that, "--and so you're a girl and I can talk to you."
"Oh, sweetie." Chris modulates her voice so it sounds like it does when she's talking to one of her younger sisters. "Of course I'm here to listen to you."
"You don't need to do that with your voice," Mark responds, sounding half-amused. Mark's never been the kind of person you can pull that on, even at what has to be her most vulnerable. "But thanks. I, um. I don't know how to say this."
"The only other languages you know relate to computers and I don't understand C++ or binary, Mark, so you're gonna have to use English." She's a little impatient, okay. Mark calling her like this is kind of a big deal. They weren't ever girly-girl roommates, apart from that one memorable time she'd wrestled Mark down to give her a makeover. (The look on Eduardo's face had been so, so worth it. Blow-dryers can perform a wonderful public service.)
"Yeah, no, I know, I just-- it's weird saying it."
Chris's head drops forward. "Please tell me you're not on drugs. Or having sex with my boyfriend. Or having sex with Sean Parker, cause for that one I might actually kill you. As both your friend and your spokesperson."
"God no," Mark says, sounding appropriately horrified. "I would never-- I've only slept with Wardo, you know that."
"Okay." She takes a breath. "What is it?"
"I'm pregnant."
What the fuck.
Chris says the first thing she can. "Shit." And wait, that's not right. She needs to come up with something else to say, something better-- "are you okay?"
Mark's breathing is uneven too, she can hear it. "Yeah."
"How far along are you?"
"Since June," Marks says. Chris counts in her head. Now it's September. 17 weeks if she's doing the math right.
"You're going to run out of time, Mark. If you want to end it. You're running out of time."
"I can't," Mark says. "Not yet. I'm not-- I can't make that decision by myself."
"It's good that you know that," Chris says encouragingly, even though that's the last thing she personally would do if she was in Mark's situation. "When can you talk to Eduardo about this? You need to, sweetie. Before the week is over."
"You really don't have to call me that," Mark says with more than a trace of dryness. "Seriously, it's fine. And I can't talk to him."
"He deserves to know. To decide. You know."
"No, I'm-- my lawyers don't want me to talk to him, like even to say hello. And he's blocked my phone number. And my email. I think his lawyers told him to do that, that's the kind of people they are."
"Shit," Chris says again. "I'm so sorry."
This is not what she expected. And Mark, oh god, Mark with a baby. And Mark's only twenty. If she was Mark she would be scared out of her mind.
"I, uh, Chris."
"Yeah?"
"Don't tell anyone this, except, I-- I don't know what to do."
And it's not like she has some snappy motivational speech planned for that, so.
-
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: did you hear
Did you hear about Mark?
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: did you hear
If this is about the lawsuit(s) then I am breaking up with you
PS please tell me you are coming out here over Columbus Day break she is driving me insane(-er)
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: your love affair with parenthesis worries me
No, you jackass, I'm talking about the baby.
PS the news of your insanity does not surprise me. and yes.
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: jackass is a term of endearment, right?
if this is another Facebook-as-baby metaphor, I would have you know that those are getting really annoying, it is as annoying to me as it is to you that your birth name is Christianna.
PS thank GOD.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: FUCK
I thought she would have told you.
I mean an actual flesh and blood baby.
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Fuck^100
A baby baby. holy shit.
The lawyers are going to kill her. This is going to get so much worse. There's going to be so much more shit now.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: you forgot about the press
And Eduardo.
PS thinking about it, does it make sense for me to come out there Friday night? It's not like I can't do class work on the plane.
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: I hate everything
Oh god she has to tell him. Or start wearing a marquee to the hearings when she starts to show.
PS I truly love you. I'll do the flight stuff and send you the deets.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: who says deets anymore?
Okay. We'll talk more when I get to CA.
-
"Lunch," Sy announces, when the yelling starts. "Come back in two hours everyone, okay?"
As is his habit, established in the short amount of time this has been going on, Eduardo storms out without looking at her. Mark thinks it's fine, brushes him off. She should get some coffee and code, she's so fucking tired. Was sick all last night. And right, she can't have coffee, damn it to hell.
Maybe she can splash some water on her face. That would definitely help, the shock to her system. Stay awake until she can get back to the offices and cajole Dustin into making her tea, or ordering takeout, or going to a CVS and buying a Snickers bar. She never gets lunch at these things; they take up too much of her time already.
She turns around to find a female, and alights on one from her legal team. "Hi. Where's the ladies' room?"
"I'll walk you there," the woman says. "I don't know if you've ever caught my name-- I'm Marylin Delpy. I'm helping out Sy."
"Yeah. Thanks." Mark's definitely grateful that she was saved the embarrassment of having to ask. "So are you enjoying yourself?"
"I'm sorry?" Marylin peers at Mark. She has very swishy hair and an impeccable suit, and while it's not like Mark cares about that, she's wearing an old Harvard sweatshirt and a skirt that the lawyers forced her into for appearances, but it makes her feel annoyed. They tried to make her take off the hoodie, but there's no way that's happening. Not where everyone else can see her.
"Are you enjoying the case?"
"I'm not sure what you mean," Marylin says gently.
"Well it's a rather big deal, the co-founder of Facebook suing the founder, so it's a really juicy opportunity for you. Something to put on your resume, you know-- and I've always suspected that lawyers don't have souls," Mark says. Marylin's eyebrows raise.
"That was kind of a low blow," she comments. "I'm on your side, Mark."
"Because I'm paying you."
"Yes, but-- it's obvious that you're not a supervillain. Whenever I hear emotional testimony-- look, I assume that 85 percent of it is exaggerated and the remaining 15 percent is perjury."
"But a jury won't know that."
Marylin nods.
"Okay," Mark says, and opens the bathroom door.
Marylin goes into a stall, and Mark leans over the sink to splash some water on her face. It's cold and bracing and good, except when she tilts her arms up some of the water cupped in her hand slides down her hoodie sleeve.
"Fuck," she mutters, and peels it off. Maybe she can stick it under the hand dryer so that her sleeve won't be damp for the rest of the afternoon.
There's a sound as Marylin unlocks the stall, running her hands through her hair. When she looks up to check herself in the mirror, there's then a silence.
It doesn't last long enough.
"Mark?" Marylin says, looking at Mark's abdomen in the mirror. "What's going on here?"
And because it isn't her day, because it isn't her week, at that moment Eduardo's lawyer Gretchen walks in.
-
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: hell and damnation
do you know what happened at the deposition today?
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: Re: hell and damnation
I'm guessing it's not anything good.
Mark told someone to fuck off? Cause I can see that happening. Mark fainted because she eats like a five-year-old let loose in a candy shop without supervision?
Also, packed for leaving tomorrow.
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: hell and damnation
I wish.
As of a few hours ago, Eduardo is now informed of his impending fatherhood. So are his lawyers. So are Mark's lawyers.
She's so shocked, I think that is the word I'm looking for, that she wasn't even mad at me for knowing about it or you for telling me.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: capitalization means things are serious
Holy fucking hell, Dustin. Can you change my flight to tonight?
From: dmosk@facebook.com
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: hell and damnation
Done. You get in around midnight-- see you in seven hours at SFO, assuming you don't have any checked baggage. I'm going to try to get Mark to eat now, and once this shit gets solved (they are messes without us omg) we can have a reunion. And by that I mean sex.
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
To: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: Re: hell and damnation
Tell me if anything happens up until we take off. I mean it.
Your intent was pretty clear there. But you know that, and I'm leaving now.
Seriously what is our life.
-
"Mark," Gretchen says, once they're back from lunch. "I would like for you to define the relationship between you and my client."
Like a tic, Mark glances at Sy. He nods cautiously. Marylin's eyes are huge. Someone needs to talk to her about keeping a poker face if she's going to keep being a lawyer, especially one who has to get up in a courtroom in front of sharks.
It's going to be a train wreck in slow-motion, Mark can tell that much.
"We were friends," she says. And that's true. That's not perjuring herself right there. Wardo never officially asked her out.
-
Mark thinks it's totally unfair that Dustin and Eduardo have a suite while she and Chris are crammed into this tiny little room. Chris keeps telling her that they only have the suite because their third roommate was arrested for auto theft, but it's still a pretty fucking ideal situation, even considering all the police drama and both guys having to testify (and in Dustin's case, having to put on pants for the first time in almost a week and a half).
Anyways, the good thing about Chris and Dustin being this ridiculously couple-y couple is that she can hang out in their room all the time. Chris has a thing about fooling around in the suite, cause it does kinda smell like guy-sweat and socks, so whenever Mark is sexiled she just bunks with Eduardo.
It's a weird basis for a friendship, like, I only see you when our friends are banging in full view of my Buffy poster or whatever. But Giles wouldn't judge, so Mark won't either.
They get into a rhythm. Eduardo's a nice person and she's liked him since orientation, when Chris staggered up clutching onto Dustin in ridiculous heels and shoved Wardo at her, mumbling sloppily about roommates getting to know each other cause she and Dustin were going to get to know each other if you know what I mean. And it had been awkward when they were eighteen and knew nothing, but it got way better.
She codes a lot, Eduardo reads econ textbooks and tries to teach her Portuguese, even though Mark is only interested in learning curse words, though he manages to get her to remember 'obrigado'. They watch bad TV together sometimes and drink beer. One night he manages to weasel out of her what her birth name is. (She's pretty sure that's why Harvard matched her and Chris as roommates, based on their embarrassing given names. Not that Marianna Eleanora is a bad name-- certainly not as bad as Christianna Maelyssa-- but it kind of sucks when all you want to be known as is Mark and you sound like a fairytale princess or some shit).
Life continues on and Dustin and Chris stay together, which is both weird and awesome, and somehow Eduardo becomes her actual best friend. She has a horrid fight with Erica Albright, who had been the only person she'd liked from her high school to end up in Boston, and Chris stays lovely but also gets even more couple-y, and things just... spiral.
And when she and Eduardo have sex for the first time (on his bed, econ textbook kicked carelessly to the floor, laptop placed more carefully on the bedside table, blue light casting shadows over their bodies in lieu of the moon) it's kind of awesome. It seems like something that could be good.
-
"You were friends," Gretchen repeats. "I was under the impression that you were once a couple."
Mark turns her head to stare at Eduardo. He looks-- uncomfortable? Which is odd, because he seems to perfectly content to air out all the rest of their dirty laundry and get his money's worth for it.
"He never asked me out," she says. "And we never really told anyone what was going on with us."
"Dustin Moscovitz and Christianna Hughes have both testified that they knew about your romantic relationship."
"We never explicitly told them," Mark responds. And that's true, that's not lying in the least. They hadn't told Dustin and Chris as much as Dustin and Chris has walked in on them. Gretchen glances at Eduardo and receives a tiny little nod in return; good for her. It had been her idea that they never officially be a couple, she had muttered something about expectations and not wanting anything to change, and while it was pretty obvious that Eduardo wanted to go out to Harvard Yard with a sign that said Mark's my girlfriend!!!! he had agreed, albeit with a somewhat discontented look on his face.
"And the nature of this relationship-- friendship, if you will. Was it sexual?"
Eduardo takes a sharp breath, disbelief on his face for the first time all day.
You're going too far, Mark thinks. This isn't going to end up how you want it too. It'd better not.
"Yes," she says. "It was sexual in nature."
Gretchen looks-- well, Mark can't read the intricacies of her expression but she knows she doesn't like it, cause Gretchen knows she has something good and it's going to result in a win for her side. "And when was the last time you were intimate?"
"You don't need to answer that--" Sy hisses, looking royally ticked off. "That's an invasion of my client's privacy--"
"It is relevant," the other lawyer says. "Mark?"
"June this year. Before the dilution of the shares and our fight, obviously." Mark's voice is wooden. "Early in the month."
"And--"
Mark stands up and takes off her sweatshirt. She's skinny, she's going to be showing even though the baby isn't that big yet. There isn't really a baby bump, there's more of a decidedly pronounved curve to an abdomen that used to be flat. She looked it up on the internet a few nights ago, apparently the baby's the size of a turnip or something. She's still not quite sure why fetuses are measured by comparing them to vegetables.
"And this is the result. And you know what else, fuck you. Looks like it's your lawyer who's the asshole, Wardo."
She barely makes it across the hall before she throws up in a wastebasket.
-
Mark peels off her hoodie and pulls off her top once she gets to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. It's so hot in the room, there's no airflow, and her skin feels so tight. She stares at herself in the mirror and sees a lot of pale skin broken up by the contours of an ugly navy-blue bra, curly hair, and purple bruises under her eyes from lack of sleep. The belly sticks out like a ripening pumpkin, totally out of place on her frame.
She's always hated pumpkins.
"Mark."
She knows that voice, and she freezes.
"Mark?"
There's a hand on her shoulder and she automatically tenses up at the pressure, a painful reflex that she never used to have.
"You're not supposed to be speaking me with me. I'm not supposed to speaking with you, for that matter."
"Yes, well, let's ignore the lawyers for five minutes," Eduardo says. "I think it is obvious that they've done enough. Can you face me please?"
She can't. Not because she can't see him right now-- his dark eyes are boring a hole in the mirror-- but because looking at him without the protective glass would be so much worse, to face that pain and anger straight on.
"You, um--" Eduardo's voice is faltering a little. "You're pregnant. You're still pregnant."
"Yeah, that's pretty fucking obvious-- I mean yes. I am."
She sees him take a deep breath and feels it too, since he's so close to her. Closer than he's been in months, actually, and she has to tell herself that she can't relax into him, that he is not there for her comfort anymore.
"Why?"
Mark turns to face him. "It didn't seem fair to make that kind of decision without the input from the father."
Sean was never even a possibility, you dickwad, and thanks to your lawyers for having fun with those sordid recriminations. Eduardo seems to get that at the same moment she thinks it and his eyes widen.
"I haven't ever had sex with anyone else but you," Mark continues quietly. "So that eliminates all other possibilities."
"Ah. Yes. Okay." Wardo scrubs a hand over his face. "How were you going to wait for me if our lawyers aren't allowing us to talk to each other?"
"It wasn't the most logical decision I've ever made." His eyes darken a little at that, clearly wanting to rebut, except that Mark can't go on with this any longer. She gets rid of him the best way that she knows how. "This is the ladies' room, Eduardo. You're not supposed to be in here."
With that remark they're headed back to anger. Even she can see that, and right now, she really doesn't want any more confrontation.
"I'm leaving," Mark says, stepping smartly around him. "You probably still have my contact information. If you don't, and you still for whatever reason want to talk to me, your legal team can get it for you."
-
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: shit, fans, and other things
Okay, so I finally got Mark to sleep. And I got her to eat something too, but while she ate the pasta that I made, it was sticky and kind of gross. You better be here in the morning, you're the only one of us who knows how to cook. (Tell your nana I love her for teaching you all that).
I had to take a cab from the airport all by myself, for your information. It was very sad.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: hi
Why are you emailing me when we both have cell phones and I would like to hear your lovely voice?
Sorry about not meeting you, I was dealing with fallout from this afternoon at the office.
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: hi
Because Mark is asleep in my bed in the guestroom and I don't want her to wake up. And it would be weird to sleep in her room tonight.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: Re: hi
Okay, but you guys were roomies. How was that weird?
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: Re: hi
It just is, her house is so lonely, also she is using my shoulder as a pillow. Anyways tell me about what happened with Eduardo today, Mark was a little angry and upset and freaked out, so it was hard to get the whole thing.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: what I know
From what I can tell, Mark was in the bathroom, took off her hoodie, Wardo's lawyer walked in and saw she's knocked up (and yeah, it's getting to be obvious, I can't believe I didn't notice it before). They get back from break and the lawyer starts questioning Mark about her and Eduardo's relationship and if it was sexual in nature, which obviously it was (remember college? ohyeah). Then she asked about the last time they fucked, heard it was June, and was going to keep on asking these questions when Mark stood off, took off her hoodie, and was like "and this is what happened, fuck you bitchsicle."
Then she ran out and I think Wardo found her but I dunno what happened with that.
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: bitchsicle?
I feel like that's probably the worst way that whole thing could have happened. That's all she told you?
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: it's some fucked-up shit, m'dear
No, that's what the person from her legal team who brought her to the Facebook offices after the meeting broke down told me. I'm finishing up what Mark gave me here, by the way, want me to stop by?
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: it's not the time to be cavalier
Dustin, it's 3 AM. Which means for me it is actually 6 AM and I didn't sleep on the plane at all. I am going to crash in about ten minutes. Come by whenever Mark calls you to talk about some Facebook problem and we can go from there, okay? Someone needs to get her to eat breakfast.
This is exhausting.
See you.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: gallows humor though
Love you too.
We need new friends.
(Only problem is I like the old ones.)
-
Mark has begun having the strangest dreams since she's started sleeping alone. They're faded in nature, featuring versions of Eduardo and her that are them but then aren't. There's her and Eduardo after her fight with Erica Albright about how she was such a lousy friend, Mark figuring out ways to hurt her and prove why she was bad to have as an enemy and then Eduardo, going along with it because he wanted to be around her. She couldn't see it then but she can see it now, mostly asleep on Chris's shoulder. She sees him watching her hack into the facebooks of all the other houses, aglow at her skill. She never quite realized how much she impressed him, and she should have told him more how he impressed her-- three hundred thousand dollars from watching the weather, and in her dreams she tells him that, and in her dreams he looks surprised.
When she wakes up, Chris is gone, the bed is mostly cold and she is wrapped in freezing sheets, and there are noises downstairs.
-
Eduardo rings the doorbell at seven AM the next morning, Dustin in tow.
"I did not bring him willingly," Dustin announces when Chris opens the door in one of Dustin's old t-shirts and a pair of his old basketball shorts. "We converged. And I knew that you stole those shorts, you thief. There is no such thing as a mischievious clothing elf."
"You don't care," Chris says, yawning. "You bastards woke me up. You do know that you only need to ring the doorbell once, right?"
"Is--"
"Mark's still asleep, despite your aggressive ringing," Chris responds. "So I guess I'll make breakfast then. Why the hell are you up so early?"
"The lawyers called me to see if I could tell Mark that the deposition was rescheduled for some time next week," Dustin says. "I don't know about Wardo, I only saw him two minutes ago. The phone probably rang here too."
"If it did, neither of us heard it. But the landline's in the bedroom and we were both in the guest room last night, so that would probably explain it."
"What?" That's the first thing that Eduardo says to her. And hello to you too Eduardo, Chris thinks, mentally rolling her eyes. "Why were you both in the guest room?"
"Cause Mark fell asleep right on top of me." Chris holds the door open and gestures for them to enter. "Be quiet. She was even more exhausted than I was, and I hadn't slept for thirty hours. You couldn't manage to get me bumped up to business class, Dustin? Economy was so crammed, it was like we were cattle."
"She never eats properly," Eduardo interjects. Chris fixes him with a glare and ushers them into the kitchen, digging up the ingredients for eggs on toast.
"I think there's ketchup in the cupboard under the sink," Dustin says, sinking down into a chair. "And hey. Hi, Christi. Lovely to finally see your beautiful face in person."
"Good to see you too," she smiles, grabbing the ketchup from its place next to the cleaning supplies. "And you as well Wardo. It would be nicer if it was under better circumstances, but I guess we're all kind of stuck right now."
"I suppose," Eduardo's response is somewhat reluctant. "How is Mark?"
"Nauseous, asleep, and freaked out as all hell," Chris says succinctly. "And yourself?"
"Two out of the three are the same for me," he concedes. "I was not expecting this to happen when I sued. I was expecting-- retribution. A settlement. You know?"
"I don't want to get into this now," Dustin interrupts. "This is so not the time for us to choose sides between the two of you in your custody battle."
"Eh...okay," Eduardo agrees, after a moment reflecting on the truly awkward metaphor. Chris shakes her head in the direction of the two and puts a pat of butter into the frying pan, watching it sizzle and brown.
"Hey," she says, as if the thought has just struck her. "How do you feel about this whole thing, Wardo?"
He doesn't answer. There's a shift in the room, almost imperceptibly, and they all turn towards the sound of footsteps.
"I heard voices," Mark says, clad in pajamas that Chris is ninety percent sure were a joke Hanukkah gift from one of her brothers. They're flannel and have cows printed on them. The only saving grace-- and the reason that they're not at a Salvation Army somewhere-- that they're loose and soft and Mark wouldn't have wanted to go out to get new ones when her old pair of sweats fell apart at the seams.
"You should still be asleep," Chris chides. "It isn't good for you to sleep only four hours in a row, especially with your, uh, condition, and you've been doing that for way too long."
Mark ignores her. "Are you making eggs?" she asks.
"Not really," Chris mutters. "I just burned the butter. I don't even know why I'm cooking; Dustin, you're better at this than I am."
"This is true," he agrees, and hops up to help her. Mark focuses her attention on Eduardo, gives him one of those dead-eyed stares that she's perfected during the time she's been in depositions and mediations.
"What are you doing here?" She demands. "Do your lawyers know that you're here?"
"It's not all about the lawyers," Eduardo replies. "We didn't get to talk yesterday. I wanted to do so. That's all."
"Awk-ward," Dustin sing-songs in Chris's ear. She smacks his arm.
"Shut up and cook so that we can eavesdrop on them."
-
Here's the thing, Intellectually, Mark knows that she doesn't need him. Certainly not for financial support, and while it was nice to have someone looking after her, she doesn't necessarily like that people do. It's merely that Eduardo did it and she let him. There's a difference between the two, really there is.
It's just hard to remember that when he's standing across from her, looking for all the world like a hurt deer.
"What do you want to talk about?" Mark demands. Eduardo merely raises an eyebrow, letting his gaze flick down to her protruding, cow-printed stomach.
She resists the urge to cross her arms firmly over it.
"How long?" Eduardo asks.
"How long for what?"
"How long have you known?"
She clears her throat and takes to moment to admire the lines of his shoulders, so tightly clenched and tense under his dress shirt. She has that effect on him, she thinks, and it is both a chilling and interesting thought. "Since early July. I had suspected since the end of June, but I didn't go to a doctor until July 4th weekend."
"Holy shit, Mark. So when in June, at the Facebook offices--"
Mark gazes at him levelly. "I had been wondering if I should approach you then with my suspicions, yes, but I had no real facts to go on, just a feeling. Obviously it was impossible after the scene where you broke my laptop, and by then I felt like we had broken down enough that a civil conversation wouldn't have been possible." Plus you hung up on me twice and then blocked my number and email, and I couldn't hack my way through to you for once in my life.
"Shit," Eduardo breathes out again. "If I had known--"
"--I doubt anything would have changed," Mark finishes. "You would still be angry with me. In fact, unless I am grossly misreading the situation, you still are angry with me."
At the stove, trying to keep the eggs from burning, Dustin rolls his eyes. You idiot. Chris elbows him in the ribcage, obviously having the same thought. Though if he knows her well enough, she's probably thinking that both of them are idiots, which is arguably true. Dustin could certainly make a case for it.
Taking advantage of Eduardo's muteness, Mark steamrollers on. "I was going to name her Ada."
"Ada?" Eduardo asks. "Wait a moment, her?"
"They had some more advanced ultrasound technology at the ob/gyn office and I found out last week that the baby is probably a girl, yes. Though science hasn't advanced to the point where they're one hundred percent positive, I'll have to wait for the amniocentesis."
"Mark. You don't just tell people things like that, all causal and off-the-cuff. That's not what you do, okay?."
"Exactly none of this has been orthodox, Eduardo. Except for maybe the conception."
Chris makes an annoyed sound and decides to save both of them from tearing apart even further.
"It's seven in the morning, you guys. Mark needs to sleep more, and so should I. I don't know about Wardo and Dustin, but it's foggy and cold outside and not exactly inviting. Why don't we all eat something and then figure out stuff from there?" By this she means I will lock you two in a room and remove all sharp objects while Dustin takes me out on a date for food cooked by other people, but they don't have to know that.
"Fine," Eduardo mutters. Mark nods her assent.
There is much stabbing of eggs.
-
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: work
Work is super awkward today. Also if I punch Sean Parker in the face do not blame me and bail me out, por favor y gracias.
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: spanish? really?
No one would blame you. Except the police, but that could be a problem and there are already enough lawyers hanging around. Anyways, at least you aren't stuck at lunch with Eduardo getting the third degree about everything Mark has done since June.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: fine
You have it worse. Hey, why are we emailing and not texting?
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: I don't know, we have more than 160 characters in email?
Pity me. I can't take this much longer. "Did she ever say anything to you before two days ago?" "Why is she keeping the baby?" "Is it bad for the baby that I'm suing its mother?" "How does she feel about it? And me?"
It is the Markuardo drama train and we are only the passengers, considering how long this lawsuit could go on if he decides to keep going with the whole thing. I can't even deal with the PR shit right now. Their baby is going to have affidavits for bedtime stories.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: DUDE
He totally still loves her. This is a fucking revelation.
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: I am not a dude
Dustin he is SUING her for MILLIONS OF DOLLARS
Fuck, wardo's here and he's pissed im on phone have to make nice see you later - C.
To: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
From: dmosk@facebook.com
Subject: but but but
Do you not know that love conquers all? That is what Disney taught us and it will not lead us astray.
To: dmosk@facebook.com
From: christi.hughes@harvard.edu
Subject: why am I dating you
You have issues.
-
"Soooooo," Dustin says, stopping by Mark's office after lunch while she's attempting to code for the new update. "Hi."
Mark doesn't even look up from the screen. "What do you want, Dustin."
"Is that a question or a statement?" her friend asks. Mark is seriously considering demoting him from a friendship-position, except then she'd really only have Chris left and despite how much Chris rolls her eyes about Dustin she's crazy in love with him, so if she followed Dustin on his demoted road trip back to the East Coast and then Mark would only have Crazy Jerry in development left-- time to stop thinking, okay.
"Both." Mark spins around in her office chair and then regrets it, because now her stomach is doing the tango. "Hi. What?"
"I want to go home," Dustin says.
Mark narrows her eyes. "Why? It's one in the afternoon and I'm pretty sure you still have work to do, because I still have work to do."
He holds up a hand, puts out two fingers. "You always have work, Mark, and if there isn't any then you go ahead and create some. Anyways, there are two reasons. One, Sean is being a dick."
"Sean is always a dick, Dustin, that's why we send him away whenever we can," Mark interrupts. "Usually under supervision."
"He is insinuating things about you," Dustin continues, "and I would very much like to punch him but I am aware that I cannot for the good of the company, and also I do not want to deal with criminal assault charges at the moment."
"I'm glad you paid attention to HR when they made that presentation."
"And two-- two, my girlfriend is here and I very much need to swish away to rescue her from her horrific lunch date with your baby-daddy."
Mark considers chucking her USB mouse at his head, except Dustin is clearly beaming about his word choice. "Because I thought that ex-best-friend was a bit of a mouthful, and young master plaintiff is too formal and doesn't cover enough ground, and then I was reading Us Weekly this morning and ergo! Baby daddy!"
"I can fire you," Mark says, weighing the mouse in her hand. It's sadly light, but when she bought it she hadn't been considering its effectiveness as a projectile weapon. She won't even ask what Eduardo's talking to Chris about, just knows that he'll get enough stuff out of her friend that he'll still be mad at her, which is fine because then she can still be mad at him. And then there doesn't need to be talking. "You are replaceable."
"You would never replace me. I am a shining beacon in your C++ existence." Dustin comes over to hug her around the shoulders, the most he can get away with. "Chris and I will get you when it's time for dinner."
"That joke doesn't make sense, also, not hungry."
"You will be. And now I must away; my lovely lady awaits."
"You are a beacon of bad things to the English language!" she shouts after him, but he just waves and hurries to the elevator.