Melanie Gideon - Wife 22

“Completely ridiculous. Over-the-top ridiculous. You have got to forgive him. It’s a sign.”

“I don’t believe in signs.”

“Oh, that’s right, only romantics believe in signs.”

“Wimps,” I say. “Saps.”

“And you go right on believing you’re not one of them, darling.”

“What are you two whispering about?” asks Kate, popping up behind Nedra. Kate is wearing a yellow dress that I’m sure Nedra picked out for her. Together they’re a sunflower: Kate is the blossom, Nedra the stem.

“My God, you look beautiful,” says Nedra, reaching up and stroking her cheek. “Doesn’t she, Alice? She looks like an Irish Salma Hayek.”

“Okay. I think that’s a compliment. Listen, I think we’re getting close to sitting down,” says Kate. “Maybe fifteen minutes? Alice, when do you want to do the toast? Right before we eat? Or after.”

“She’s not giving a toast,” says Nedra.

“She’s not?” says Kate.

“William’s going to do a toast in her place.”

Kate raises her eyebrows.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, but I’m just not up to it tonight. But William will be brilliant. He so good at these sorts of things. Much better than me, actually. I’m terrible in front of a crowd. I get all sweaty and my legs-”

“Enough, Alice,” says Nedra. “Let’s circulate, darling,” she says to Kate.

I take my chardonnay and go sit at an empty table in the back of the room. I see Zoe and Jude in a corner, holding hands, staring intently into each other’s eyes. Peter is out on the dance floor, doing the robot all by himself and by the looks of it having a grand time. Jack, Bunny, and Caroline are sitting at a table. And William is at the bar, his back to me. I grab my phone. John Yossarian is still online. William must have forgotten to log out.

I’ve changed my mind. I want to meet you, Researcher 101.

Uh-I can’t really chat right now. I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of something.

When can we meet?

I thought you went through the wardrobe, back into your real life.

Real life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

I don’t understand. What happened?

When can we meet?

I can’t meet with you, Wife 22.

Why?

Because I’m with my wife.

She can’t hold a candle to me.

You don’t know her.

She’s a wuss.

That’s not true.

You’re a wuss.

Possibly.

Tell me the truth. You at least owe me that. Are you happy in your marriage?

That’s not a small question.

I had to answer it. Your turn.

I watch as William puts the phone down, then picks it up again, then puts it down again and takes a big sip of his drink. Finally he picks the phone up once more and begins to type.

Fair enough. Okay. Well, if you had asked me a few months ago I would have said no. She was unhappy and so was I. I was troubled over how far we had grown apart and how distant we had become. I had no idea who she was anymore, what she wanted or what she dreamed about. And it had been so long since I had asked her. I wasn’t sure I was capable of having that conversation, at least not face-to-face. So I did something I’m not proud of. I went behind her back. I thought I could get away with not telling her, but now I think I’m going to have to confess.

Do you remember you said that you thought marriage was a sort of Catch-22? The very things that made you fall in love with your spouse became the very things that made you fall out of love with him? I’m afraid I’m finding myself at a similar Catch-22 moment. I did something out of love, in order to save my marriage. But the thing I did might be the very thing that ends it. I know my wife. She’s going to be very upset when she finds out what I’ve done.

So why confess at all?

Because it’s time for me to show up.

“Excuse me, everybody, excuse me,” says Nedra. She’s standing at the front of the room, holding a wireless microphone. “If everybody will please go to their tables now.”

I watch William slide off the bar stool, his phone in his hand. He sees me and waves me over, pointing to the table where Bunny, Caroline, and Jack are already sitting. Unbelievable. He doesn’t look rattled in the least bit.

When I get to the table, he pulls my chair out for me. “How did it go with Nedra?”

“Fine.”

“She’s okay with me giving the toast?”

I shrug.

“Are you okay with me giving the toast?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

In the bathroom, I dab my face with cold water and lean over the sink. I look horrible. Under the fluorescent light my suit looks pink, almost cartoonish. I take a few deep breaths. I’m in no rush to get back to the table. I open my Facebook chat.

I’m heartbroken.

Why are you heartbroken, Wife 22?

You did this to me.

That’s not exactly true. We both played a part in this.

I was vulnerable. I was lonely. I was needy. You preyed on me!

I was vulnerable, lonely, and needy too, did you ever think of that?

Look, this is not productive anymore. I think we should stop chatting.

Why do you get to make that decision? You’re just going to leave me hang-

The little green button next to his name turns into a half moon. He’s gone. I’m furious. How dare he log off on me! I walk out of the bathroom and nearly collide with a waiter. “Can I get you anything?” he asks.

I look out into the room and see Nedra approaching our table. She hands the mike to a clearly flustered William, kisses him on the cheek, then returns to her table, where she slides her chair as close as she can to Kate’s.

William stands up and clears his throat. “So, I’ve been asked to give a toast.”

“I don’t want anything, but you see that man with the mike? That’s my husband. He’d like a piña colada,” I whisper to the waiter.

“Of course. I’ll bring it to him after he’s done speaking.”

“No, he’s desperate for one now. He’s parched. So parched. See how he keeps swallowing and gulping? He needs it to get through the toast. Can you put a rush on it?”

“Absolutely,” says the waiter, scurrying to the bar.

“I’ve known Nedra and Kate for-let’s see-thirteen years,” says William. “The first time I met Nedra-”

I hear the whir of the blender. I watch the bartender pour the drink into a glass. I watch him garnish the drink with a piece of pineapple and a cherry.

“And I knew,” says William. “We all knew.”

The waiter crosses the room with William’s drink.

“You know how you just know? When two people are right for each other?”

The waiter begins wending his way through the tables.

“And Kate-Kate, my God, Kate. What can I say about Kate,” blabs William.

The waiter is waylaid by a couple asking for drinks. He takes their order and moves on.

“I mean, come on. Look at the two them. The bride and-well, the bride.”

The waiter arrives at William’s table and slides the drink in front of him. William looks down at the drink, confused. “What is this? I didn’t order this,” he whispers, but everybody can hear him because he’s holding the mike.

“It’s a piña colada, sir. Your throat is parched, sir,” says the waiter.

“You’ve given me somebody else’s order.”

“No, it’s for you,” insists the waiter.