Wife 22

“Zoe.”

“Zoe’s not people. She’s family,” I say.

“No, she’s people. We lost her to the people some time ago,” says William. “Look, everything’s going to be okay. I’m going to find another job. Trust me. Get your sister,” he says to Peter. “We’re going out to dinner.”

“We’re celebrating you getting fired?” asks Peter.

“Laid off. And I’d like us to think of this as a beginning, not an end,” says William.

I open my car door. “We’re not going anywhere. The leftovers need to be eaten or they’ll rot.”

That night I can’t sleep. I wake at 3 a.m. and just for kicks decide to weigh myself. Why not? What else do I have to do? 130 pounds-somehow I’ve lost eight pounds! I’m shocked. Women my age don’t just magically lose eight pounds. I haven’t been on a diet, although I am still paying monthly dues for my online Weight Watchers program, which now I really should cancel. And other than my pathetic attempt to run with Caroline, I haven’t done any exercise in weeks. However, other people in my household are exercising like mad. Between Zoe’s 750-sit- ups-a-day regimen and William’s five-mile runs with Caroline, maybe I’m burning calories by osmosis. Or maybe I have cancer of the stomach. Or maybe it’s guilt. That’s it. I’ve been on the Guilt Diet and I haven’t even known it.

What a brilliant idea for a book! Diet books sell millions of copies. I wonder if anybody else has thought of it.

GOOGLE SEARCH “Guilt… Diet”

About 9,850,000 results (.17 seconds)

Gilt Groupe

Luxury designers and fashion brands at up to 70% off…

Working Moms… Guilt

I may feel a tiny twinge of guilt when the maid is washing my sheets and I’m eating an expensed lunch at Flora…

Guilt-Free Sushi

Guilt-free sushi eating may be complicated…

I’m not in the market for discount designer clothes and though I am a working mom, I’ve never felt guilty for having a job, and Zoe doesn’t allow me to eat sushi-well, certain kinds of overfished sushi like the common octopus, which is not a hardship for me-but hurrah!-there’s no Guilt Diet on Google.

“We’re in business!” I relay to Jampo, who is sitting at my feet. I write myself a note to look into the Guilt Diet in more depth once it’s morning, when I’m pretty sure it will reveal itself to be the most ridiculous idea ever, but you never know.

I log on to Facebook and go to William’s wall. He has no new update, which oddly disappoints me. What did I expect him to post?

William Buckle

Wife forced me to listen to Susan Boyle, but I got myself fired so I deserve it.

William Buckle

Wife looks mysteriously skinnier-suspect she’s ingesting tapeworms.

Or more likely something along the lines of-

William Buckle

“The past has no power over the present moment.” Eckhart Tolle

42

43. After that night celebrating William’s Clio, a torturous three weeks went by. Three weeks in which William ignored me. Our lunchtime runs abruptly stopped. If he had to talk to me he avoided eye contact and looked at my forehead, which was deeply unsettling and made me blurt out stupid things like according to our focus groups what people (women) really want to know about toilet paper is that it doesn’t tear while you’re in the middle of using it due to the fact that men wash their hands far less than women and if they do wash them most of the time they don’t use soap. He also reverted to calling me Brown, and so I could only conclude he (like me) was drunk that evening and had absolutely no memory of the knuckle- grazing incident outside the bathroom. Or after sobering up was totally embarrassed having stared at me all night long and was doing everything he could to pretend it never happened.

Meanwhile, he and Helen were inseparable. At least three times a day she flounced into his office and shut the door, and every night she collected him and off they went for Rob Roys at the Copley Hotel, or to attend some fancy event at the Isabella Gardner Museum.

And then, just when I’d accepted an invitation from a friend to be set up on a blind date, I got this email.

From: williamb ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Tom Kah Gai

Date: August 4, 10:01 AM

To: alicea ‹[email protected]›

As you’ve probably noticed, I’ve been home sick for the past two days. I’m craving Tom Kah Gai. Would you bring me some? Make sure it’s from King and Me, not King of Siam. Once a mouse ran across my feet while eating at King of Siam. Thanks very much. 54 Acorn Street. 2nd Floor. Apt. 203

From: alicea ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Re: Tom KHA Gai

Date: August 4, 10:05 AM

To: williamb ‹[email protected]›

Bangkok Princess has the best Tom KHA Gai on Beacon Hill. King and Me a far second. I can forward your craving for soup to Helen, who surely said request was meant for.

From: williamb ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Re: Tom KHA Gai

Date: August 4, 10:06 AM

To: alicea ‹[email protected]›

The request was meant for you.

From: alicea ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Re: Tom KHA Gai

Date: August 4, 10:10 AM

To: williamb ‹[email protected]›

So let me get this straight. Because you have a craving for Tom Kha Gai, I’m to leave work in the middle of the day, traipse across the bridge, and hand-deliver your soup?

From: williamb ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Re: Tom KHA Gai

Date: August 4, 10:11 AM

To: alicea ‹[email protected]›

Yes.

From: alicea ‹[email protected]›

Subject: Re: Tom KHA Gai

Date: August 4, 11:23 AM

To: williamb ‹[email protected]›

Why would I do that?

He didn’t answer and he didn’t have to. Why was very clear to both of us.

Forty-five minutes later, I knocked on his door.

“Come on in,” he called out.