The Wives

by Tarryn Fisher

  We huddle underneath an awning with our drinks and listen to a street musician play a Lionel Ritchie song on his fiddle. As we sip, we glance almost shyly at each other, and it feels like it did on our first date—charged and unfamiliar. There is a change between us tonight, a new chemistry we’ve not tapped into before. I imagine we could have had this all along if there were two instead of four people in the marriage. Our bond would be strengthened instead of pulled thin.

  Seth pulls me close and I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, humming along with the song. I’m pressed so tightly against him that when his cell phone rings I can feel the vibrations against my leg. Seth, who normally has his phone turned off when he’s with me, pats his pocket with his free hand. I angle my body away from his so he can reach it, taking a careful sip of my cider. It scalds the roof of my mouth; I press the tip of my tongue to the burned spot as I wait to see if he’ll answer.

  When he pulls his phone from his pocket, he makes no move to hide the screen from me. Regina’s name flashes across his wallpaper—a group photo of his nieces and nephews in their Halloween costumes. I bite my lip and look away, feeling like I’ve done something wrong.

  “Do you mind?” he asks, holding up the phone. The name Regina stares at me. I blink at him, confused. Is he asking me for permission to take a call from his other wife?

  I shake my head dumbly, shifting my eyes back to the fiddler, who is now playing a Miley Cyrus song with gusto.

  “Hello,” I hear him say. “Yeah... Did you put it in peanut butter? She’ll take it that way... Okay, let me know how it goes.”

  He’s talking to Regina in front of me. It’s like a metal ping striking at the center of me with sharpness. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

  He slides his phone back into his pocket, nonplussed.

  “Our dog,” he says, watching the fiddler with renewed interest. “She’s old and sick. She’ll only take her pill with peanut butter.”

  Seth has a dog.

  “Oh,” I say. I feel stupid, emotionally clumsy. Had I ever noticed dog hair on his clothes? “What type of dog?”

  He grins his lopsided grin. “A Sheltie. She’s an old lady now—has trouble with her back legs. She had surgery a few days ago and won’t take her medicine.”

  I listen, fascinated. His other life, a detail most would consider mundane, but I cling to it, want more. A dog. We briefly considered getting a dog, but living in a condo seemed unfair to an animal—that and my work hours.

  “What’s her name?” I ask cautiously.

  I’m afraid that if I ask too many questions he’ll shut down or get angry with me for prying. But he doesn’t.

  He tosses his empty cup into an overflowing trash can and says, “Smidge. Regina named her. I wanted something generic like Lassie.” He laughs at the memory and then waves at a toddler who bellows, “Hi!” as his mother pushes him past in his stroller. I look away quickly. I can’t look toddlers in the eye.

  “You’ve never said her name,” I say.

  Seth tucks his hands in his pockets and stares at me. “Haven’t I?”

  “No,” I say. “And last week you sent me a text meant for one of them...”

  His head jerks back and I can see the uncertainty in his eyes. “What did it say?”

  I study his face, not believing the pretense. “You know what it said, Seth.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I don’t remember. If I did, it was my mistake and completely hurtful to you. Forgive me?”

  I pull my lips tight. There isn’t really another option, is there? I could drag this out and sulk for a few more days, but what good would that do anyone? I nod, forcing my lips into a smile.

  “Come on,” he says, holding out his hand. “Let’s get back. It’s freezing out here.”

  I let him twine his fingers with mine and suddenly we’re running across the street, me holding my beanie to my head and skipping up the curb. I hear myself laughing as we dodge slow-moving bodies on the sidewalk. He looks back at me and I smile shyly, the wings of infatuation beating in my belly.

  We kiss as we ride the elevator to our floor, even though there’s someone else in there with us—a middle-aged woman with a trembling Yorkie. She draws as far away from us as she can, pressing herself to a corner of the elevator as if we’re contagious.

  “Where have you been?” I whisper against Seth’s lips.

  “Here, I’ve been here.” He’s as breathless as I am, his hands groping through the puffiness of my coat. He yanks the zipper down, the noise startling in the confines of the elevator.

  On the mirrored wall behind us, I see the woman’s face pale. She clutches her purse tighter to her chest and stares at the numbers above the door, willing herself away from us. The Yorkie whines. I laugh into Seth’s mouth as he pushes my coat off my shoulders and reaches to cup my breast. The doors slide open and she charges out. They slide closed and we climb higher. His hand is between my legs, his thumb rubbing circles. When the doors open on our floor, we move together, not wanting to let go.

  Later, we lie in bed, our limbs tangled and our skin damp from exertion. Seth traces a line with his fingertips up and down my arm. I curl into him, enjoying the moment, everything but us forgotten. Just for tonight. Tonight, I will forget. Tomorrow is a different story. And then I remember the thing that’s been bothering me, swimming in my mind right out of reach: Regina’s message.

  Hi, Will,

  I don’t mind the compliments at all! I worked hard to get through law school—lay ’em on me.

  I have a heavy workload right now, but I can make time for fun. You mentioned that you like to hike. Maybe we can do that sometime. I’m up for drinks, too, if you prefer that. Your nieces and nephews are adorable. You seem great with kids.

  Talk soon,

  Regina

  With Seth snoring softly beside me, I read her message to Will three times before I write my response. There is more I want to know, to confirm, and Will is the only way I can do that.

  Hey, Regina,

  Since you’ve given me permission to load on the compliments I guess I should tell you that you’re stunning. I’d love to go on a hike with you! And yes, my nieces and nephews are adorable. Do you want kids? I guess that’s a really personal question but somewhat important to know when you’re dating.

  Will

  It’s been just a few minutes since I hit Send on Will’s message when my phone lights up on the nightstand. I glance over my shoulder at Seth to see that his back is to me as he snores. Lifting my phone carefully from where it lies, I’m surprised to see a notification that Regina has sent me/Will a message. It’s late and I wonder why she’s awake, and then I remember Seth telling me that she’d stay up long after he went to bed, working—always working.

  Will, what are you doing up so late? Looks like you’re a night owl like me. I can never sleep. There’s a really great hiking trail near my house. It takes about four hours round trip. Let’s do this!

  And yes, I do want children. Let’s have a phone conversation soon.

  Talk later,

  Regina

  TWELVE

  It’s Sunday and I’m at my parents’ for lunch. My mother is nowhere to be found. I’ve just read Regina’s last email to Will for the tenth time and I slam my phone down on the kitchen counter. Worried I’ve cracked the screen, I flip it over to check for damage. To my relief, there is none. I’m still angry enough to slam it again so I walk to the window and stare at the mist rolling across Elliott Bay while I get my feelings in order. Regina is cheating on Seth; the flirtatious tone she uses in the messages to the man she thinks is Will is escalating. And on top of that, I don’t know why she’s lying to him about wanting kids. Just this morning, she’d sent Will a suggestive photo of herself in a bikini (probably because she liked the flattery about her looks). It had really irked me to think the photo was from a vacation she
’d taken with our husband. I don’t know if I’m more upset by the fact that she’s going to hurt Seth, or that I have to share him with a woman who can’t even stay faithful, and who orders pizza, for God’s sake. I have to tell him. He needs to know.

  My father walks into the kitchen a moment later, a case of Diet Coke under his arm.

  “I found a box of Diet in the garage fridge,” he says. “That okay?”

  “Fine,” I say. Though it’s not fine. I don’t drink Diet. He pops a can and pours the contents into a glass with ice. I take it from him and sip. Perfume: it tastes like perfume. Or maybe that’s just the bitter taste that’s been lingering in my mouth since breakfast when I read Regina’s fourth message to Will. She finally told Will she was divorced, not expounding on when, or why. It is partly the truth—Seth divorced Regina to legally marry me, but their relationship hasn’t ended.

  “Where’s Mom?”

  My father pulls a beer from the fridge. He doesn’t offer me one because it’s not ladylike for women to drink this early in the day, or so he’s told me. “At the store. Where else?”

  “Ladies’ church group, Nordstrom, the gym, with Sylvie, the spa...”

  “Good point.” He winks at me before rummaging around in a drawer for a bottle opener.

  “It’s in there,” I say, pointing to the drawer closest to the back door. My parents have lived in this house for twenty years and my father still doesn’t know where things are kept. I blame my mother for this, for never allowing him to open his own bottle of beer.

  As if on cue, my mother bustles into the kitchen, plastic grocery bags crackling in her hands, eyeing us like we’re wolves trying to eat her. “What are you two on about?” she asks.

  I watch as she sets the bags down and reaches up to pat her hair, something my grandmother used to do when she was nervous. I get a whiff of her perfume: Estée Lauder something or the other.

  “We’re gossiping about you, Mom, were your ears burning?” She touches her ear, frowning.

  “Where’s Seth?” she asks. “We haven’t seen him in weeks.”

  My husband is being someone else’s husband tonight.

  “He’s in Portland till Thursday.”

  She knows this, I told her yesterday when she called, asking about his whereabouts. She likes to rub in the fact that he puts work before me. I take a sip of my drink, the bubbles fizzing close to my nose. In her mind, it is because I don’t wife hard enough. She once told me that the fact I had a job was probably driving Seth to be away more.

  “How do you figure that?” I’d asked her.

  “He feels like he needs to compete with you, work more. A woman’s place is in her home. And your father never let a business meeting keep him from being home for dinner on time,” she’d said.

  My father doesn’t even know where the bottle opener is, I want to say to her. I think about the last dinner I made for Seth—hadn’t he opened the bottle of wine that was sitting on the table? Yes, and he knew in which drawer I kept the corkscrew.

  “You should really think about joining a gym to keep yourself busy.” Ah, we’ve moved on to ridiculing my body. She rinses her hands under the faucet, glancing back to eye my thighs. I push up on my toes, lifting my thighs off the seat of the chair so they don’t look so wide.

  “Seth is doing what a man should do,” my father chides my mother. “Working hard to build his future, to be a good provider.” My father—sticking up for me and promoting patriarchy all in one sentence. Bravo!

  I smile at him gratefully, anyway. I have more mommy issues than daddy ones. It doesn’t matter that I have the trust fund and a stable job that pays the mortgage on our condo, Seth is the one working to provide for his family—three of them actually.

  “Of course,” my mother says quickly. “It would just be nice if we could see him every once in a while. Michael was over here last weekend with your sister. He got a promotion and bought her a new BMW. They’re going to Greece for their three-year anniversary.” My mother announces all of this like it’s her who got the car and is going to Greece. This is my normal; I live in the shade of my sister’s great big life. If I’d had a baby first, she’d be living in mine, but alas, that was never in the cards for me.

  “I have to get back to work. I’ll leave you two hens to your girl stuff.” He kisses my mother on the cheek before removing himself to his study.

  “Girl stuff,” I say out loud. “Should we be fertilizing eggs or cooking them?”

  She hears the disgust in my voice and immediately shushes me. “You know what he means.”

  “Mom,” I sigh. “I actually do...that’s what upsets me.”

  She looks at me sharply, the cat-eye glasses she’s wearing catching the light from the window.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” she says.

  She’s right. I would never normally say things like this. Hannah has gotten into me...and Regina. Deep, deep, deep into me. I stare down at my half-empty glass of Diet Coke, tears stinging my eyes, then I reach up gingerly to touch my almost-healed ear. You could give your all to a man, every last thing, and you’d still end up with a bruised ear. Why had I sought out Seth’s other wives? I’ve ruined everything. But for whom? I ask myself. You or Seth? Now nothing seems fair, not even my parents’ marriage. I am falling apart, picking at my relationship like it’s a scab. I think of Regina’s messages to Will. I’ve poured through them over the last few days, reading them over and over till I have her writing style memorized. She is to the point but flirtatious, paying attention to the little things he says. Addicted to the details. Is that because Seth is too preoccupied with three relationships to notice the details? Regina, who placed herself on a dating website, who is eagerly writing messages to a man named Will just because he is saying all the right things. Am I next? Will I become so disillusioned by my marriage that I’ll seek relationships elsewhere? If only my baby hadn’t died. There would be no Hannah, Regina would be the distant, pizza-ordering wife and I would have all of Seth. I failed him in the most important way and he had to go to someone else to give him what I couldn’t.

  My mother sets down a plate of salad in front of me, the cherry tomatoes from her garden an angry red among all the green. There is still a chance for me. I could expose Regina for what she is. Seth would see that I have his best interest at heart, that I am his true champion. He didn’t realize how much of a toll this lifestyle was taking on him: the angry outbursts were just one of the ways his stress was manifesting. It wouldn’t matter that I couldn’t give him children. I would leave Hannah to that. And besides, she would be preoccupied with their baby. Aren’t new mothers notorious for neglecting their men once they have a tiny person to take care of? I would step in where she failed.

  My mind is made up. I know what I have to do. If I can’t beat Hannah, I will beat Regina. Take the nest from three to two.

  Hi, Regina,

  I love Tom Waits. Saw him in concert a few years ago. It was probably my favorite concert of all time. I’m sorry to hear about your marriage. My sister got a divorce last year and she’s still a mess about it. I’m glad you’re okay and ready to get back out there again! His loss is my gain. If you don’t mind me asking, what was the reason you decided to end things? Do you have any regrets about your marriage? As for me, I haven’t had a serious relationship in a while. I’ve thrown myself into my work these last few years. But I’m ready to settle down (I think). Will be visiting my sister in Montana this weekend—what are you doing?

  Talk soon,

  Will

  THIRTEEN

  Pathetic. I can’t even get having a fight with my husband right.

  I replay our conversation over in my head, the one we had after I left my parents’ house. I’d called Seth as soon as I pulled out of their driveway. I wanted to tell him how great our time had been together, how much I enjoyed being with him the other night,
but he sent me to voice mail. He called back twenty minutes later when I was walking into the elevator of our building.

  “Hey,” he’d said. “I was on the phone...” His voice had cut out and as I held the phone closer to my ear I heard the word “...parents...”

  Seth’s parents: I’d never met them. Their lifestyle meant keeping to themselves most of the time, and they rarely traveled outside of Utah. As the elevator door opened and I spilled out, I had an idea. I’d suggested it to Seth.

  “We should take our vacation to Utah! How long has it been since you’ve spent time with your family?” I’d expected him to love the idea, jump on the opportunity to use our time together to go home, but Seth’s reaction shocked me, his voice immediately going cold.

  “No,” he’d said, followed by a deep sigh, like I was a child. Seth has been putting off a face-to-face meeting with his parents for the two years we’ve been together. “My family is fucked up,” he’d always said. “Busy people.” He says “busy” like I’m not busy, like I couldn’t possibly understand the demands of their life.

  “You have half siblings!” I’d argued. “Surely they can spare some time. I’d like to meet them...”

  Seth had shot down the idea somewhat aggressively, and we’d argued about it until I gave in. That’s what I do to avoid losing Seth’s favor—I give in. I will not be the nagging shrew. I will not be the difficult wife. I will be the favorite, the one who makes his life easier. Who volunteers to suck his cock to ease his bad day and moans like it’s her receiving the pleasure.

  The truth is, I’m not even sure I want to meet his parents. They’re polygamists, for God’s sake. Not the kind we are, either. They all live together and wear odd clothes and raise children collectively like they’re some sort of rabbit-fucking hive. Imagine looking the other woman in the eye every day, washing her dishes and changing her children’s diapers, and knowing she was clawing your husband’s back in pleasure last night. It seems so twisted, but who am I to talk? The reason I haven’t told any of my friends or family the truth is because of how twisted it would sound to them.