Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

Me:Forget it. You’ve taken all the fun out of it.

Nedra:So you were exaggerating, right? You have sex more than once a month.

Me( sighing ) :No, I was telling the truth. At least lately that’s how it is.

Nedra:It may feel like once a month, but I’m sure it’s more. Why don’t you keep track of it. There’s probably some phone app created just for that purpose.

Me:Have you seen the Why Am I Such a Bitch app? It’s free. Tells you what day you are in your cycle. There’s a version for men, too, only it’s $3.99. It’s the Why Is My Lady Such a Bitch app. And for $4.99 you can upgrade to the Never Ask Your Lady if She’s About to Get Her Period app .

Nedra:What does that do?

Me:It charges you $4.99 every time you’re stupid enough to ask your lady if she’s about to get her period.

Nedra( a look of horror on her face ) :What are you doing? Don’t toss the Blåbärsplåt !

10:46: Through the bathroom door

Me:Anybody in there?

William( opening door ) :No.

Me( shuffling from one side to the other, trying to get by William and into the bathroom ) :Pick a side, William. Left or right?

William:Alice?

Me:What? ( trying to squish past him ) I have to go to the bathroom.

William:Look at me.

Me:After I pee.

William:No, look at me now. Please.

Me( looking at the floor ) :Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told EVERYBODY we only have sex once a month.

William:I don’t care about that.

Me:You should care. That’s private information.

William:It doesn’t mean anything.

Me:It means something to me. Besides, it’s probably more than once a month. We should keep track of it.

William:It’s once a month lately.

Me:See-you care. ( Pause .) Why are you looking at me like that? Say something. ( Pause .) William, if you don’t move out of my way I’m going to have an accident. Now, left or right?

William( long pause ) :I loved that night in your office.

Me( longer pause ) :Me, too.

10:52: Wandering through the garden

Bobby:I sense you’re interested in the master suites idea.

Me:The lanterns are magical. It’s like Narnia back here.

Bobby:I can email you the name of my contractor.

Me:If we made two master suites out of our bedroom, we’d each be in a room the dimensions of a prison cell.

Bobby:It’s changed our lives. I’m not lying.

Me( touching his cheek with the palm of my hand ) :I’m happy for you, Bobby. I really am. But I don’t think separate bedrooms is going to fix us.

Bobby:I knew it! You guys are having problems.

Me:Do you think Aslan could be waiting for us on the other side of that hedge?

Bobby:Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic about your struggles.

Me:I’m not struggling, Bobby. I’m waking up. This is me waking up ( lying down on the grass ).

Bobby( staring down at me ) :You waking up looks remarkably similar to you after five glasses of wine.

Me( gasp ) :Bobby B! There’s so many stars! When did there get to be so many stars? This is what happens when we forget to look up.

Bobby: Nobody’s called me Bobby B in a long time.

Me:Bobby B, are you crying?

11:48: Walking upstairs to our bedroom

Me:It would appear I’m a little drunk.

William:Take my arm.

Me:I suppose now would be a good time to have sex.

William:You’re more than a little drunk, Alice.

Me( slurring ) :Am I unbecomingly drunk or becomingly drunk?

William( escorting me into the bedroom ) :Get undressed.

Me:I don’t think I’m capable of that at the moment. You undress me. I’ll just close my eyes and have a little rest while you take advantage of me. That will still count, won’t it? In our monthly total? If I fall asleep while we’re doing it? Hopefully I won’t vomit.

William( unbuttoning my shirt and taking it off ) :Sit down, Alice.

Me:Wait, I’m unprepared. Give me a second to hold in my stomach.

William( sliding my pajama top over my head, pushing me back into the pillows, and covering me with a blanket ) :I’ve seen your stomach before. Besides, it’s completely dark.

Me:Well, since it’s completely dark you’re welcome to pretend I’m Angelina Jolie. Pax! Zahara! Eat your whole-wheat pasta or else. And all six of you scram out of the family bed-NOW! Hey, why don’t you be Brad?

William:I am not a role-playing sort of man.

Me( bolting up ) :I forgot to buy candles at Ikea. Now I have to go back. I hate Ikea.

William:Jesus, Alice. Go to sleep.

I wake in the late morning with a terrible headache. William’s side of the bed is empty. I check his Facebook status.

William Buckle

52,800 feet

One hour ago

Either he’s on his way to Paris or he’s gone for a ten-mile run. I lift my head from the pillow and the room tilts. I’m still drunk. Bad wife. Bad mother. I think about what embarrassing things I did last night at the potluck and cringe. Did I really try and pass Ikea meatballs off as my own? Did I really crawl through a hedge in Nedra’s garden looking for a portal into Narnia? Did I really admit to our friends that we have sex only once a month?

I fall back to sleep. Two hours later, I wake and weakly call out “Peter,” then “Caroline,” then “Zoe.” I can’t bring myself to call for William-I’m too humiliated, plus I don’t want to admit to him I’ve got a hangover. Finally, in desperation, I yell “Jampo” and am rewarded with the immediate frantic pitter-pat of tiny feet. He rushes into the bedroom and hurls himself up on the bed, panting at me as if to say “you are the only thing in this world I love, the only thing I care about, the one thing I live for.” Then he proceeds to pee all over the sheets in excitement.

“Bad boy, bad boy!” I shout but it’s useless, he can’t stop in midstream, so I just watch him dribble. His bottom lip has somehow gotten stuck on his teeth, giving him a pathetic, unintentional Elvis sort of sneer that could be read as hostility but I know is shame. “It’s all right,” I tell him. When he’s done, I drag myself out of bed, strip off my clothes, the duvet, sheets, and mattress cover, and make a mental list of things I will do today to set myself right.

1. Drink room-temperature water with lemon.

2. Knit a scarf. A long, thin scarf. No, a short, thin scarf. No, a coaster, i.e. an extremely short, short scarf.