Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

“It’s important to have structure and keep regular hours,” says Peter. “I read that in Dad’s book: 100 Ways to Motivate Yourself: Change Your Life Forever. ”

“Climb in, kids,” says Nedra. “Do as your mother says or I’ll have to look at her pale, blotchy face forever and that will be your fault.”

Peter and Zoe climb into the backseat.

“You don’t smell homeless,” says Nedra.

“Homeless people can’t help the way they smell,” says Peter. “It’s not like they can knock on somebody’s door and ask to take a shower.”

“That’s very compassionate of you,” says Nedra.

“That was fun, Pedro,” says Zoe, bumping fists with Peter.

I knew the day would come when I’d lose Peter to Zoe, when they’d begin to confide in one another and keep each other’s secrets, but I had no idea it would happen this soon or like this.

“Can we please go home?” I say.

Nedra keeps driving up San Pablo.

“Is anybody listening to me?” I cry.

Nedra takes a left onto Hearst and a few minutes later parks on 4th Street. She turns around. “Get lost, darlings. Meet us back here at one.”

“You look tired, Mom.” Peter pokes his head into the front seat.

“Yeah, what’s up with the dark circles?” asks Zoe.

“I’m going to take care of that,” says Nedra. “Now scram, you two.”

“It’s not like you caught them smoking crack,” says Nedra, as we’re walking into M.A.C.

“You sided with them. Why do you always have to be the cool one?”

“Alice, what’s wrong?”

I shake my head.

“What?” she repeats.

“Everything,” I say. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re fiancéed. You’re happy. Everything good is ahead of you.”

“I hate it when people make nouns into verbs,” says Nedra. “And plenty of good things are ahead of you, too.”

“What if you’re wrong? What if my best days are behind me?”

“Don’t tell me this is about that ridiculous marriage survey. You stopped writing to that researcher, right?”

I pick up a tube of eggplant-colored lip gloss.

“So what’s this about?” she asks, putting the lip gloss back. “Not your color.”

“I think Zoe’s got an eating disorder.”

Nedra rolls her eyes. “Alice, this happens every summer when school gets out. You get paranoid. You become morose. You’re a person who needs to stay occupied.” I nod and let myself be led to the foundation counter. “A tinted moisturizer-not too heavy. A little mascara and a pop of blush. And after that we’ll take the teensiest, quickest trip through Anthropologie, shall we?” says Nedra.

That night Peter crawls into bed with me.

“Poor Mom,” he says, wrapping his arms around me. “You had a hard day. Watching your children begging on the streets.”

“Aren’t you too old for snuggling?” I say, pushing him away, wanting to punish him a little.

“Never,” he says, snuggling in closer.

“How much do you weigh?”

“A hundred pounds.”

“How tall are you?”

“Five one.”

“You may snuggle for another five pounds or another inch, whichever comes first.”

“Why only five pounds and an inch?”

“Because after that it will be unseemly.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. “Oh,” he says softly, his hand patting my arm the exact same way he used to when he was a toddler.

He was so tuned into me when he was younger; it was exhausting. If any sort of a worried look broke over my face he’d run over. It’s okay, Mama. It’s okay, he would say solemnly. Would you like a song?

“I’ll miss it, too, sweetheart,” I say. “But it will be time.”

“Can we still watch movies together on the couch?”

“Of course. I’ve got our next one lined up. The Omen . You’re going to love the part at the zoo where all the animals go wild.”

We lie quietly together for a while.

Something is nearly over. I put my hand over my heart as if I can keep its contents from spilling out.

Lucy Pevensie added her profile picture

Nice dress, Wife 22.

You think so? I’m wearing it for my coronation. The rumor floating around here is that soon I’m to be crowned Queen Lucy the Valiant.

Will I be invited to your coronation?

That depends.

On what?

Do you have the proper coronation attire? A velvet cape, preferably royal blue?

I have a velvet cape, but it’s puce. Will that do?

I suppose. My best friend wants me to be her maid of honor.

Ah-so this is a maid of honor dress.

Well, this is what she’d like me to wear. Well, not exactly this dress, but something similar.

Is it possible you’re exaggerating a bit?

Has it ever occurred to you that marriage is a sort of Catch-22? The very things that you first found so attractive in your spouse-his darkness, his brooding, his lack of communication, his silence-those things that you found so charming in the beginning are the very things that twenty years later drive you mad?

I’ve heard similar sentiments from other subjects.

Have you ever felt this way?

I can’t divulge that information.

Please. Divulge something, Researcher 101. Anything.

I can’t stop thinking about you, Wife 22.

77.A dictatorship where the dictator changes every day. Not sure if democracy is possible.

78.Well, many people here on earth in the twenty-first century believe in the concept of the one true love , and when they believe in the one true love this often leads to marriage. It may seem to you like a silly institution. Your species might be so advanced you have different partners for different stages of your life: first crush, marriage, breeding, child-raising, empty nest, and slow, but hopefully not painful, death. If that’s the case, maybe the one true love doesn’t enter into it-but I doubt it. You probably just call it something else.

79.It seems to me that everyone takes their turn: behind the curtain managing props, being a bit player, then in the chorus, then center stage, then, at last, all of us end up in the audience, watching, one of the faceless appreciators in the dark.

80.Days and weeks and months of glances, of unrequited lust.

81.Living on the top of a mountain in a house with a quilt on the bed and fresh flowers on the table every day. I would wear long white lace dresses and Stevie Nicks-style boots. He would play the guitar. We would have a garden, a dog, and four lovely kids who built towers out of blocks on the floor while I made chicken in a pot.

82.You need it, like air.

83.Kids. Companionship. Can’t imagine life without them.

84.Can imagine life without them.

85.You know the answer to that.

86.Yes.

87.Of course!

88.In some ways, yes. Other ways, no.

89.Cheat. Lie. Forget about me.

90.Dear William,

Do you remember that time we went camping in the White Mountains? We did most of the hike the first day. Our plan was to spend the night and then get up early and climb to the top of Tuckerman Ravine. But you drank too much and the next morning you had a killer hangover, the kind of hangover one can only sleep off. So you crawled back inside your sleeping bag and I went up Tuckerman without you.