Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

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Maybe it was my droopy eyelids. Maybe it was because I was about to turn the same age my mother was when I lost her. Maybe it was because after almost twenty years of marriage my husband and I seemed to be running out of things to say to each other.
But when the anonymous online study called 'Marriage in the 21st Century' showed up in my inbox, I had no idea how profoundly it would change my life. It wasn't long before I was assigned both a pseudonym (Wife 22) and a caseworker (Researcher 101).
And, just like that, I found myself answering questions.
7. Sometimes I tell him he's snoring when he's not snoring so he'll sleep in the guest room and I can have the bed all to myself.
61. Chet Baker on the tape player. He was cutting peppers for the salad. I looked at those hands and thought, I am going to have this man's children.
67. To not want what you don't have. What you can't have. What you shouldn't have.
32. That if we weren't careful, it was possible to forget one another.
Before the study, my life was an endless blur of school lunches and doctor's appointments, family dinners, budgets, and trying to discern the fastest-moving line at the grocery store. I was Alice Buckle: spouse of William and mother to Zoe and Peter, drama teacher and Facebook chatter, downloader of memories and Googler of solutions.
But these days, I'm also Wife 22. And somehow, my anonymous correspondence with Researcher 101 has taken an unexpectedly personal turn. Soon, I'll have to make a decision – one that will affect my family, my marriage, my whole life. But at the moment, I'm too busy answering questions.
As it turns out, confession can be a very powerful aphrodisiac.

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Wife 22

From: researcher101 ‹researcher101@netherfieldcenter.org›

Subject: Re: Hello

Date: May 20, 11:57 AM

To: Wife 22 ‹Wife22@netherfieldcenter.org›

Wife 22,

What ever happened to Tang?

Researcher 101

From: Wife 22 ‹Wife22@netherfieldcenter.org›

Subject: Re: Hello

Date: May 20, 12:01 PM

To: researcher101 ‹researcher101@netherfieldcenter.org›

Researcher 101,

You know, I can’t help playing “what if” right now. What if I had been a biker, not a runner? What if William had married Helen of Troy instead of me?

Sincerely,

Wife 22

From: researcher101 ‹researcher101@netherfieldcenter.org›

Subject: Re: Hello

Date: May 21, 1:42 PM

To: Wife 22 ‹Wife22@netherfieldcenter.org›

Wife 22,

In my experience “what if” is a very dangerous game.

All the best,

Researcher 101

23

I’m sitting on a bench, my phone in my hand, while a hundred or so children run circles around me. I’m on recess duty. Some of the teachers hate recess duty, they say it’s exhausting and mind-numbingly tedious, but I don’t mind it. I’m excellent at scanning the sea of kids, reading their body language, listening to the pitch of their voices, and getting to them moments before the illegal hair-pulling, Pokémon card trading, or Hello Kitty glitter lip gloss application begins. This kind of intuition can be either a gift or a curse, but I like to think of it as a gift. Recess duty is like driving. The surface is hyper-alert, leaving the rest of me free to process what’s going on in my life.

I took Nedra’s advice and never told William that I went behind his back and spoke to Kelly Cho. That makes two secrets I’m keeping from him now-the marriage study and my viewing the Cialis focus group tape. I did get a little hysterical while sharing my budget spreadsheets with him and said something along the lines of you have to try harder. He says he’s investigating openings at other ad agencies in the city, but I’m afraid it’s futile. Things are bad everywhere. Shops are closing and ad budgets are shrinking or disappearing altogether. He has to make it work at KKM. As far as the Cialis focus group, I’ve decided I will never go to another KKM product launch again.

And my job? I’m lucky to have one. When the school year ends, I’m going to approach the Parents’ Association about the possibility of making my job full-time in the fall. If that doesn’t happen, I’ll have to look for a higher-paying job. I need to bring in more income.

The bell rings and the kids start running back into the building. I open my Facebook app quickly.

картинка 2

Shonda Perkins Alice Buckle

Definition of friend: Somebody you’ve actually had a meal with in the last year.

43 minutes ago

John F. Kennedy Middle School

Suggests you limit your child’s screen time to one hour per day, this includes texting, tweeting and Facebooking. This does not include conducting online research for classes.

55 minutes ago

Weight Watchers

Come back! We miss you!

3 hours ago

William Buckle added Tone Loc and Mahler to favorite music

4 hours ago

William Buckle added Deer Hunter, Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, and Field of Dreams to favorite movies

4 hours ago

Tone Loc? “Funky Cold Medina” Tone Loc? And William’s favorite movie is Field of Dreams ? We are decidedly not in a field of dreams. A field of thorns, maybe. William was demoted for telling his entire company how many times a month we have sex, and I’m sneaking around behind my husband’s back, telling a total stranger about how he once touched my boob with his elbow. Like my namesake Alice, I’ve slipped down the rabbit hole, fall, falling, fell.

24

33.If it’s a subject that interests him.

34.I was sleeping with a guy named Eddie. I met him at the gym where I swam laps. Eddie was a trainer in the weight room. He was sweet and uncomplicated. He had these red cheeks and perfect teeth. He wasn’t my type, but his body-oh, my God. Our relationship was purely physical and the sex was amazing, but I knew it would never go anywhere further than that. Of course I hadn’t told him this yet.

“Hey, Al, Allie!”

It was Friday afternoon and I was standing at the counter at Au Bon Pain ordering a chicken salad sandwich and a Diet Coke. I had been in line for fifteen minutes. There were twenty or so people queued up behind me.

“ ’Scuse me, ’scuse me. I’m with her.”

Eddie pushed his way to the front of the line. “Hi, doll.”

I had never been with a man who called me “doll” before, and I have to admit I liked it-until now. In the bedroom it made me feel petite and Bonnie and Clyde-ish, but here in Au Bon Pain it sounded cheap.

He kissed me on the cheek. “Man, it’s crowded in here.”

He wore a blue bandana tied around his head, Rambo-style. I had seen this bandana in the weight room, which was, as far as I was concerned, where a bandana worn like this belonged. We really hadn’t been out in public yet. Normally I went to his apartment or he came to mine; as I said, our relationship was really about sex. But here we were in Au Bon Pain and here he was looking like Sylvester Stallone, and I was mortified.

“Aren’t you hot?” I said, staring blatantly at his forehead, trying to silently telegraph you’re in Cambridge, not the North End, take that ridiculous thing off.

“It is kind of hot in here,” he said, slipping out of his jeans jacket, stripping down to a wife-beater. He leaned forward, his deltoids flexing, and put a twenty on the counter. “Make it two chicken salads,” he said, then turned to me. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Well, you did! Surprise me, I mean. Um-I think they have a no-tank-top rule in here.”

“I was hoping after lunch you might give me a tour of your office. Introduce me. Show me around.”

I knew what Eddie was thinking. That I would waltz him through the door and my colleagues at Peavey Patterson would see him and be flabbergasted and ask who is that gorgeous guy with the incredible body (which is exactly what I did when I first saw him at the gym) and whisk him away to be in some major ad campaign. He wasn’t completely off about his potential-he was charismatic and could probably have sold anything-paper towels, wet wipes, or dog food. But not in a wife-beater and bandana.

“Wow, that’s a great idea. I just wish you had given me some notice. Today’s probably not a good day. We have a big client in town. In fact I shouldn’t even be out getting my lunch. I should have eaten in. Everybody else in my office is eating in.”

“Alice! Alice, I’m so sorry we’re late,” a woman shouted.

Now Helen pushed her way to the front of the line, dragging an uncomfortable-looking William behind her. He and I were running just thirty minutes before. I’m pretty sure Helen was unaware of the fact that we’d been working out together. Or that I used his sunscreen. Or that even after showering I still smelled of it.

“There’s no saving places!” somebody yelled.

“Those people cut to the front of the line!” somebody else yelled.

“We’re with her,” said Helen. “Sorry about that,” she whispered to me. “It was such a huge line. You don’t mind, do you? Well, hello!” She broke into a huge smile at the sight of Eddie. Her eyes lingered on his bandana. “Who’s your friend, Alice?”

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