Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

This has gone too far. I’m sorry, but I have to quit the study.

As soon as I press Send, I feel a rush of sweet relief, not unlike the relief I used to feel on a Monday when I entered “eggs” on my Weight Watchers Plan Manager.

The next day I decide to unplug. I’m scared to see Researcher 101’s reply (or worse, his silence) and I don’t want to spend the day obsessively checking my Facebook messages, so I shut off my phone and computer and leave them in my office. It’s not easy. My fingers involuntarily tap and circle all day as if browsing an invisible page. And even though I don’t have my phone, I react as if I do. I’m in a state of hypervigilance-waiting to be summoned by a bell that will not be ringing.

I try and embed myself in the day. I run with Caroline; Peter and I bake blueberry muffins; I take Zoe to Goodwill; but even though my body is there, my brain is not. I’m no better than Helen. I, too, treat my life as something to be mined and then packaged up for public consumption. Every post, every upload, every Like , every Interest , every Comment is a performance. But what happens to the performer when she’s playing to an empty stage? And when did the real world become so empty? When everybody abandoned it for the Internet?

My digital diet lasts until after dinner, when I can’t bear it any longer and I break my fast. By the time I log on to Lucy Pevensie’s Facebook page, I’m breathless.

John Yossarian invited you to the event “Coffee”

Tea & Circumstances, July 28, 7 p.m.

You can’t quit yet. There are things I need to tell you now that can only be said in person.

RSVP Yes No Maybe

Relief floods through me again, but there’s nothing sweet about it this time. It’s relief of the desperate, addictive, I-may-never-have-an-opportunity-like-this-again sort, and it hits me like I’ve mainlined a drug. Before I can stop myself, God help me, I click Yes .

From C REATIVE P LAYMAKING

Exercise: Write a breakup scene where the characters speak almost entirely in clichés.

“I’m coming over there right now,” says Nedra.

“I’m in the middle of coloring my hair-you can’t,” I say, looking into the bathroom mirror with dismay. “Hold on, I’m putting you on speaker.”

I place the phone on the counter and start scrubbing my forehead with a dry washcloth. “I’ve got dye all over my face and it’s not coming off!” I cry.

“Are you using soap and water?”

“Of course I am,” I say, squirting the washcloth with three pumps of liquid soap and then running it under the tap.

“Alice. This is crazy. I’m begging you, don’t go meet him,” says Nedra.

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh, really? Okay. Let’s see-your needs weren’t being met. Could you be any less original, Alice?”

“Researcher 101 sees me for who I really am,” I say. A woman in her underwear with dye dripping down her temples. “And he’s a mystery. And I feel like if I don’t do this now, there’ll never be another chance.” I throw the washcloth in the sink and check the time. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Nedra pauses. “That’s what they all say. Researcher 101 is an invention, you know that, don’t you? You’ve invented him. You think you know him, but you don’t. It’s a one-way relationship. You’ve revealed everything to him, all your secrets, your confessions, your hopes and your dreams, and he hasn’t told you anything about himself,” says Nedra.

“That’s not true,” I say, combing my hair. “He’s told me things.”

“What, that he likes piña coladas? What kind of a man likes piña coladas?”

“He told me he can’t stop thinking about me,” I say softly.

“Oh, Alice. And you believed him? William is real. William . Okay, you’ve grown apart. Okay, you’re going through a dry spell, but you have a marriage worth saving. I’ve heard every iteration of this story a thousand times, from every angle, from every perspective-an affair is never worth it. Go to counseling. Do everything you can to fix this.”

“Jesus, Nedra, I’m just meeting him for coffee.” I peer in the mirror. Is my part supposed to be orange?

“If you agree to meet him for coffee, you are crossing a threshold, and you know it.”

I open the cupboard under the sink and rummage around for the hair dryer. “I thought you’d support me. Out of all the people in the world, I thought you’d at least try and understand what I’m going through. I didn’t go looking for this. It came looking for me. Literally. The invitation showed up in my Spam folder. It just happened.”

“Bloody hell, Alice, it didn’t just happen. You were complicit in making it happen.”

I find the hair dryer, but the cord is hopelessly tangled. Can’t anything be easy? Suddenly I feel so tired. “I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely for a long time. Isn’t that worth something? Don’t I deserve to be happy?” I whisper.

“Of course you do. But that’s no reason to abandon your life.”

“I’m not abandoning it. I’m just meeting him for coffee.”

“Yes, but what do you want out of this? Why are you meeting him for coffee?”

Why indeed, when I look like this? There are circles the color of, yes, thistles, under my eyes. With concealer, maybe I could lighten them to lavender. “I don’t know, exactly,” I admit.

I can hear Nedra breathing. “I have no idea who you are anymore,” she says.

“How can you say that? I’m the same person I’ve always been. Maybe you’ve changed.”

“Well, I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

“Meaning what?” I ask.

“Like mother, like daughter.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nedra.”

“If you had returned any of my last four phone calls you would.”

“I told you I was in the mountains. There was no cell reception.”

“Well, you may be interested to know Jude and I had a little heart-to-heart about Zoe.”

“Good. Did you tell him to move on? She’s not going to take him back.”

“She’d be lucky to get him back. He finally told me what really happened. I knew something didn’t feel right. It was Zoe who cheated on Jude.”

“No, Jude cheated on Zoe,” I say slowly.

“No, Jude let Zoe tell everybody he cheated on her in order to protect her reputation but she cheated on him, and despite her cheating ways, and for the life of me I don’t know why, he’s still madly in love with her, the little sap.”

Could this be true?

“Jude’s lying. Zoe would have told me,” I say, but I know in my heart it is true. It explains so much. Oh, Zoe.

“Your daughter has issues; lying is the least of them.”

“I know about my daughter’s issues. Don’t you dare throw information I’ve shared with you in confidence in my face.”

“Alice, you’ve been so busy carrying on with Researcher 101 that you have no idea what’s happening with your own daughter. She doesn’t have an eating disorder; she’s got a Twitter account. With over five hundred followers. Would you like to know her user name? It’s Ho-Girl.”

“ Ho-Girl? ”

“Short for Hostess Girl. She reviews bakery products, but her reviews can be interpreted in a few different ways, if you know what I mean. The point is your daughter is in trouble, but you haven’t noticed as you’ve been so busy living your double life. She’s obviously working something out.”