Wife 22: A Novel
Page 26
What the hell, Researcher 101?
I know. You’re angry.
Why did you even suggest meeting me?
I shouldn’t have.
Did you even plan on coming?
Of course I did.
You didn’t change your mind at the last minute? Decide the fantasy was better than the real thing?
No. It’s the real you that’s so appealing. I’m not interested in fantasies.
The damn survey. It’s completely changed my life.
Why?
Because now I realize how unhappy I’ve been.
Subjects frequently—
Don’t talk to me about subjects. Don’t insult me. I’m more than a subject to you.
You’re right.
I’m thinking of leaving my husband.
You are?
Researcher 101’s shock buzzes right through the phone; I feel it like a Taser. That’s not what he wanted to hear, neither is it true. I haven’t contemplated leaving William. I just said it to get a response. I look up and see Bunny walking briskly toward me. I slip down into my seat. She grabs the phone out of my hand, quickly reading the last lines of our chat. She shakes her head, kneels by my chair, and begins typing.
Let me ask you a question, Researcher 101.
Okay.
Tell me one thing you love about your wife.
I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
I’ve told you everything about my husband. Surely you can tell me one thing about your wife.
Okay, she is the most stubborn, proud, opinionated, stick-to-her-guns, loyal-to-the-death person I know. The weird thing is I think you’d like her. I think you’d be friends.
Oh. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do with that information.
I’m sorry—but you asked.
It’s okay. Actually it makes me feel better.
It does? Why?
Because it shows me you’re not a cad. That you have nice things to say about your wife.
“Cad? Who the hell uses words like ‘cad’?”
“Quiet!” says Bunny, elbowing me aside.
Thank you, I guess.
So what are we supposed to do now, Researcher 101?
I don’t know. I think things will become clear. I never thought any of this would happen. You’ve got to believe me.
What did you think would happen?
That you would just answer the questions and we would go our separate ways and it would be over.
What did you think wouldn’t happen?
That I would fall for you.
I grab the phone out of Bunny’s hand and type GTG, then I log off Facebook.
“Don’t want to answer him, hmm?” she asks.
“No, Cyrano, I don’t.”
Bunny sniffs. “He seems rather genuine. In his feelings for you.”
“I told you.”
“Something to drink?”
“No.”
We sit there for a moment, eavesdropping on people placing their orders for coffee.
“Alice?”
“What?”
“Listen to me. Every good director knows that even with the darkest of subject matter there have to be moments of grace. There have to be places where the light streams in. And if those places aren’t there, your job is to put them there. To write them in. Do you understand, Alice?”
I shake my head.
Bunny reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “It’s a misstep many playwrights make. They mistake darkness for meaning. They think light is easy. They think light will find a way through the crack in the door by itself. But it doesn’t, Alice. You have to open the door and let it in.”
83
“Nedra.”
“Alice.”
“How are you?”
“I’m fine, how are you?”
“Been biking, have you?”
“Yes, Alice. That would explain the shorts. And the biking shoes. And the helmet.”
“And the bike.”
“So.”
“So.”
“So what happened?”
“With what?”
“With Researcher 101?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s over.”
“It’s over? Just like that, it’s over?”
“Yes. Happy now?”
“Oh, this is ridiculous, Alice. Are you going to invite me in or not?”
I open the door wide and Nedra wheels her bike in.
“I didn’t know Brits perspired. Do you want a towel?”
Nedra props the bike against the wall, then rubs her sweaty face on the sleeve of my T-shirt. “No need, darling. Is William here?”
“What do you want with William?”
“It’s a business matter,” she says. “I have a proposition for him.”
“He’s in the kitchen.”
“Are we still not talking?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. You’ll let me know when we are?”
“Yes.”
“Via phone or text?”
“Smoke signals.”
“Have you spoken to Zoe about Ho-Girl?”
No, I haven’t spoken to Zoe yet and I feel terrible about that. But the truth is, Ho-Girl and Zoe’s betrayal of Jude are on the back burner as I try and make sense of what’s happening between Researcher 101 and me.
“You’re making too big a deal of it. We’re talking cupcakes, Nedra.”
“Don’t put it off, Alice. I really think there’s something there you should look at.”
“Nedra?” William calls from the kitchen. “Is that you?”
“Ta, darling. At least somebody in this house is happy to see me,” says Nedra, walking away, leaving me alone in the foyer.
Shonda Perkins
PX90 DVD’s for sale. Cheap.
5 minutes ago
Julie Staggs
Marcy—too small for Marcy’s big girl bed.
33 minutes ago
Linda Barbedian
Insomnia
4 hours ago
Bobby Barbedian
Have been sleeping like a baby
5 hours ago
I’m trying to distract myself from the sound of laughter coming from the kitchen by reading my Facebook feeds, when my computer makes a submarine sound. A Skype message flashes on my screen.
Beautiful Russian Ladies
Are European and American women too arrogant for you?Are you looking for a sweet lady that will be caring and understanding? Then you come to the right place. Here you find a Russian lady that will love you with all her heart.
www.russiansexywoman.com
Please excuse if you are not interested.
For some reason I find this solicitation touching and sad. Is there anyone in the world who is not looking for somebody who will love them with all their heart?
There’s a sudden rap on my door. William walks into my office. “So that was interesting. Nedra asked me to cook for her wedding.”
“Cook what?”
“Dinner. Appetizers. Dessert. The entire meal.”
“You’re kidding!”
“It’s a small crowd, only twenty-five or so people. I’ve asked Caroline to help me.”
“You want to do this?”
“I think it’ll be fun. Plus she’s paying me. Quite well, I might add.”
“You know Nedra and I aren’t speaking.”
“I gathered that. What are you not speaking about?”
“The maid-of-honor dress she wants me to wear. It’s horrible. Empire waist. Puffy sleeves. I’ll look like Queen Victoria.”
“She’s your best friend, Alice. You’re going to miss her wedding over a dress?”
I frown. He’s completely right, of course.
“Alice? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?” It’s so hard to keep this up. To continually hide my distracted state.
“You just seem—funny,” he says.
<
br /> “Well, you seem funny, too.”
“Yup. Although I’m trying not to be.”
He looks at me a moment too long, and I turn away. “So have you thought about the menu?” I croak.
“Anything but oysters. That’s the only requirement. Nedra thinks they’re too obvious. Like roses or champagne on Valentine’s Day.”
“I love oysters.”
“I know you do.”
“I haven’t had them in a long time.”
William shakes his head. “I don’t know why you insist on keeping yourself from the things you love.”
84
After William leaves, I go upstairs to my bedroom and shut the door. I set the timer on my phone for fifteen minutes. Then I let myself feel all the anticipation and heartbreak of the past few days. William’s comment about “missing us” ticker-tapes though my head, a constant loop. Ten minutes later, I’m sitting in the middle of the bed with a pile of used Kleenex in front of me, when I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. I can tell by the light tread that it’s Bunny. I try and compose myself, but it’s useless.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, opening the door.
“It’s fine. It’s really fine. I’m really very fine,” I say, the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Can I do anything?”
“No, don’t worry. It’s just—” I burst into tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so embarrassed.”
Bunny enters the room, pulls out a starched hankie from her pants pocket, and hands it to me.
I stare at it blankly. “Oh, I couldn’t. It’s clean. I’m going to get it all dirty.”
“It’s a handkerchief. That’s what it’s for, Alice.”
“Really? That’s so nice,” I say, and then I start crying again, the full-blown ugly cry, hiccupping and gulping and trying to stop and not being able to.
Bunny sits beside me on the bed. “You’ve been holding that in a long time, haven’t you?”
“You don’t know how long!”
“Well, you just let it out now. I’ll stay here with you until you’re done.”
“It’s just that I don’t know if I’m a good person or a bad person. I’m thinking right now I’m a bad person. A cold person. I can be very cold, you know.”
“Everybody can,” she says.
“Especially to my husband.”
“Ah—it’s easiest to be cold to those we love.”
“I know. But why?” I sob.
Bunny sits with me until I arrive at that exhausted, washed-out, clear place on the other side of shame, where the air smells of late summer, of chlorine with a rising note of back-to-school supplies, and I feel for the first time in a very long time—hope.
“Better?” asks Bunny.
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.”
85
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.
86
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?”