Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

“You’re going to use a fake handle?”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Well-yes. Don’t you? Shouldn’t we?” I try to keep a straight face.

“Not when it comes to our daughter. Let’s keep it in the Hostess family so she won’t suspect. How about @snoball?” he asks.

“Ug-that pink marshmallow skin makes me sick. How about @dingdong?” I suggest.

“I hate Ding Dongs. How about @hohos?”

“Too close to Ho-Girl. How about @nuttyhohos? Remember those? When they added peanuts?” I say.

“Fine. Done.”

We turn to each other and begin laughing.

“Quiet, you Nutty Ho Ho,” whispers William.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“She just tweeted again,” he says.

I peer at his screen and we read the Tweet out loud together.

There is no better way to start the day than sucking the cream out of a Twinkie. About 1 minute ago

“What the hell, Zoe!” I gasp. “Does she have any idea how dangerous this is?”

William’s fingers fly over the touch screen.

@ nuttyhohos What the hell, Zoe? Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?

“You weren’t supposed to type that! Now those sickos are going to know her real name,” I yell at William. “And so much for our fake handle.”

Stop following me, J. I can tell it’s u. About 1 minute ago

“She thinks we’re Jude,” says William.

@ booboobear Ho-Girl is a queen. She should be treated as thus. I am here to serve you, my queen. Is it a Ding Dong Day?

William growls.

@ nuttyhohos Ho-Girl is not a queen. She’s a fifteen-year-old girl, you sick predator.

I mean it, J. Stop it. About 1 minute ago

@ Lemonyfine Listen to the fine lady, J, or I’ll have to go all diggity do on your ass.

Stop fighting, all of you. There’s still some cream left in my Twinkie:) About 1 minute ago

I grab the phone out of William’s hand.

@ nuttyhohos OMG, Zoe, why can’t you be like a normal girl and have an eating disorder?

R u implying I’m fat? I’m not fat, J. About 1 minute ago

@ nuttyhohos This is not J. This is your mother. I know all about the Hostess cupcakes in your closet.

@Fox123 BFN.

William grabs the phone back.

@ nuttyhohos This is your father. Deactivate this account right now, Zoe Buckle!

“Now you’ve given them her last name!” I shout.

@ booboobear WTF. BFN.

@ nuttyhohos Deactivate your account NOW, Ho-Girl!

Suddenly the garage door begins to open. William and I stand there, blinking, huddled together, as Zoe materializes in front of us. She holds her phone in one hand, the garage door opener in the other. She’s so furious she can’t speak. She tweets instead.

I can’t believe u guys. This is a total invasion of privacy! I’ll never forgive you. About 1 minute ago

“Zoe, please-” I say.

I’m not talking to you. About 1 minute ago

@ nuttyhohos We can see that.

I’m never talking to you again. About 1 minute ago

@ nuttyhohos This is not okay, sweetheart. Ho-Girl is really not okay. You could have gotten yourself into serious trouble.

Zoe looks at me and begins to cry. Then she starts tweeting again.

How could you wish I had an eating disorder? About 1 minute ago

“Baby,” I say.

“I am so not your baby. You have absolutely no idea who I am!” she yells.

Zoe holds the garage door opener up over her head and clicks it aggressively like she’s firing a weapon, and the door slowly begins to lower on us.

“William-”

“Just let her be,” he says, as our daughter’s head, then her torso, then her legs disappear.

I give a little cry and he pulls me under his arm, where the scent of detergent is the strongest. It’s nice there, a nest. We stay like that for a few minutes.

“Well,” he finally says. “What now?”

“Lock her in her room for a thousand years?”

“Force her to eat skirt steak?”

“Are we terrible?”

“At what?”

“Being parents?”

“No, but we suck at Twitter.”

“ You suck at Twitter,” I say.

“That’s because you made me nervous. I had stage fright.”

“Oh, if I hadn’t been there you would have been much wittier?” I ask.

“@ nuttyhohosApricots are ripe, vegan daughter,” he says.

“@ nuttyhohosSaved them all for you, please consider eating instead of Ding Dongs.”

“@ nuttyhohosNot that I don’t like Ding Dongs. There is a time and place for Ding Dongs. When you’re thirty and live in your own apartment and can pay your own rent.”

“@ nuttyhohosNot kidding. If you don’t eat the apricots today they’ll rot.”

“@ nuttyhohosFYI apricots six dollars a pound. EAT THEM OR ELSE.”

“@ nuttyhohosand try not to swallow pits.”

“@ nuttyhohosswallowing bad idea in general.”

“@ nuttyhohossays surgeon general.”

“@ nuttyhohosand your father.”

“Well?” says William.

“Not bad.”

“Yes, all my followers think so.”

“All one of them.”

“All you need is one, Alice.”

“I have to go talk to her.”

“No, I think what you need to do is give her a little time.”

“And then what?”

William lifts my chin. “Look at me.”

Jesus, you smell so good, how could I have forgotten you smelled like this?

“Let her come to you,” he says.

Then he abruptly lets go of me and turns back toward the shelves, frowning. “I’m going to have to do it again,” he says. “Now where’s the damn level?”

“Mom! Help! I need a bigger Tupperware!” Zoe shrieks from the kitchen.

These are the first words Zoe has uttered to me in two days. Both William and I have been getting the silent treatment since the Twitter incident.

“Could this be interpreted as ‘her coming to me’?” I ask William, who is sitting on the couch.

William sighs. “Damn dog door.”

“Well?”

He puts down the paper. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

I leap to my feet.

“I’ve been calling you for ages!” Zoe’s crouched by the stove, holding a pint-sized Tupperware container, her eyes darting around wildly.

“That’s not big enough.”

“No shit, Mom. All the Tupperware has disappeared.”

I open the fridge. “Leftovers.”

“There it is!” yells Zoe and I whirl around just in time to see the mouse barreling toward me from across the room.

“Eek!” I shout.

“Do you think you could come up with something more original?” grunts Zoe as she chases after the mouse, who skitters like a drunk, ears flapping, a tiny Dumbo.

“Eek, eek!” I cry again as the mouse runs between my legs and disappears under the fridge.

Zoe stands up. “That’s your fault,” she says.

“What’s my fault?”

“That it went under the fridge.”

“Why is it my fault?”

“You seduced it.”

“How?”

“By opening the door and letting all that nice cool air out.”

“Really, Zoe? Well, let me open it again and maybe the mouse will reappear.”