Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

I nod. “I’m ridiculous.”

“No,” she says. “Just a little lost, like all of us.”

“I’ve been writing, you know.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Little scenes. About my life. Me and William-when we first met. Dinner parties. Conversations. Nothing interesting. But it’s a start.”

“Wonderful! I’d love to look at what you’ve got.”

“You would?”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Really?”

“Oh, Alice. Why are you so surprised?”

I look at the handkerchief balled up in my hand. “I’ve ruined your hankie.”

“Pah. Give me that.”

“No! It’s disgusting.”

“Give it!” she orders.

I drop it into her waiting hand.

“Don’t you understand, Alice? Nothing you do can disgust me.”

“That’s what I say to my kids.”

“That’s what I say to my kids, too,” she says softly, stroking my hair.

I start to sob again. She presses the handkerchief back into my hand. “It appears I took this prematurely.”

Lucy Pevensie added her Favorite Quotation

“Is-is he a man?” asked Lucy.

Well, is he, Researcher 101?

I’m not sure what you’re asking, Wife 22.

Does a real man leave his wife?

A real man looks for his wife.

And then what?

I’m not sure. Why are you asking?

I haven’t been the best of wives.

I haven’t been the best of husbands.

So maybe you should look for your wife.

Maybe you should look for your husband, too.

Why should I look for him?

He may be lost.

He’s not lost. He’s in the garage building shelves.

In his Carhartt pants?

You don’t forget anything, do you?

I forget plenty of things; however, the Internet does not.

He’s got a cute ass in those pants.

What makes a cute ass?

An ass that’s bigger than mine.

I’m going to the movies today with my wife.

You know, Researcher 101, I’m getting very mixed messages from you.

I know. I’m sorry. But that’s precisely why I’m going to the movies with my wife. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’ve reread all your answers from the survey and I’m convinced there is some spark left in your marriage. If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to write about your courtship the way that you did. It’s not over between you and him. It’s not over between my wife and me, either. I’m making an effort. I think you should do the same with your husband.

And if it doesn’t work out with our spouses?

Then six months from now we’ll meet at Tea & Circumstances.

Let me ask you something.

Anything.

If we had met? If you had showed up that night? What do you think would have happened?

I think you would have been disappointed.

Why? What are you keeping from me? Do you have scales? Do you weigh 600 pounds? Do you have a comb-over?

Let’s just say I would not be what you had expected.

Are you sure about that?

The meeting was premature. It would have been disastrous. I’m convinced of that.

How so?

Each of us would have lost everything.

And now?

We lose only one thing.

What’s that?

The fantasy.

What are you going to see?

The new Daniel Craig movie. My wife likes Daniel Craig.

My husband likes Daniel Craig, too. Maybe your wife and my husband should get together.

I find William out in the garage standing on a ladder, wearing, yes, his Carhartt pants.

“I heard there’s a great new Daniel Craig movie out. Want to go see it?” I ask.

“Hold on,” William mumbles and quickly finishes mounting a bracket on the wall. “I thought you hated Daniel Craig.”

“He’s growing on me.”

“Hand me that shelf,” says William. I give it to him and he slides the shelf into place. “Damn. It’s crooked. I should have used the level.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Sloppy,” he says. “Thought I could eyeball it.”

“It’s not that bad. Nobody’s going to see it.”

“That’s beside the point, Alice. Not a word, you,” says William to Jampo, who is sitting beside the ladder obediently. Jampo gives a mournful errrr , never taking his eyes off William.

“So you’re hanging out with Jampo? Voluntarily ?”

“He followed me out here,” he says, climbing down the ladder.

Jampo sniffs his boots excitedly. William watches him with a half-smile. “He thinks I’m going to take him on a run.”

“You’ve been running with him?”

“Once in a while. Hey, do you know what ‘sexiled’ means?”

“ ‘Sexiled’? No. Why?”

“I overheard Zoe discussing it with one of her friends. They were talking about college. It’s a term for being kicked out of your room when your roommate wants to have sex.”

“Must they coin a word for everything? What happened to hanging a sock on the door?” I ask.

“It’s a different generation.”

“She’s going to be gone soon. A blink and she’ll be gone. Another blink and there goes Peter. Blink, blink. Our progeny-poof. Do you think she’s having sex?”

“Do I think she had sex? With Jude? Probably.”

“Really?”

“Alice, I know about Ho-Girl. Nedra told me.”

“Oh, God. Ho-Girl . I can’t believe I haven’t spoken to her about it. It’s just been-so crazy around here. With Bunny and Jack coming and everything,” I add.

“Uh-huh.”

“Did Nedra tell you she cheated on Jude, too, not the other way around?”

“Yes, she did. And you haven’t checked out her Twitter account?”

“I was kind of hoping it would just go away.”

William pulls out his phone. “Let’s get it over with. It can’t be that bad.” He goes to his Google browser and types in Twitter Ho-Girl. His scent washes over me-Tide detergent and oranges. I love his smell. I’ve missed it. I breathe it in quietly.

“There she is,” I whisper, leaning into him.

Ho-Girl

NameHo-Girl

LocationCalifornia

BioCreamy, filling, sugary, moist

Followers552

You get a big delight in every bite. About 2 hours ago

@ booboobear Yes indeed, Ho-Girl. I can attest to that.

@ Fox123 Sexy, sexy, girl. How about posting a photo? Of your delight?

@ Lemonyfine Okay, Okay. I get that u love cupcakes. But can we talk about Yodels?

@ Harbormast50 You have a bit of frosting on the corner of your lip. I’d be happy to wipe it off.

“Jesus! Nedra was right.”

“When is Nedra ever wrong? We’re signing up to get short, timely messages from Ho-Girl right now,” William barks.

“What-no! You can’t do that. She’ll know it’s us.”

“Give me some credit. I’m not going to sign up as @ma &pabuckle.”