Wife 22

60. “Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.”

61. Long, tapered fingers. Big palms. Cuticles that never needed to be pushed back. Chet Baker on the tape player. He was cutting peppers for the salad. I looked at those hands and thought, I am going to have this man’s children.

62. What would you do if you ever stopped communicating? I wrote “That would NEVER EVER happen. William and I talk about everything. That won’t be our problem.” And no, it does not hold true today.

63. In the backyard of my cousin Henry’s apartment in the North End, which overlooked Boston Harbor. It was in the evening. The air smelled of the sea and garlic. Our wedding bands were simple and plain, which felt right after the engagement ring debacle. If my father was upset about the ring, he didn’t say anything. In fact, he said very little that night, he was so overcome with emotion. Every five minutes or so before the ceremony started he would clasp my shoulders vigorously and nod. When it was time to give me away, he walked me to the arbor, lifted my veil, and kissed me on the cheek. “Off you go, honey,” he said, and that’s when I began to cry. I proceeded to cry through the entire ceremony, which understandably threw William off. “It’s all right,” he kept mouthing to me while the priest did his part. “I know,” I kept mouthing back to him. I wasn’t crying because I was getting married, I was crying because my history with my father had come down to those four, perfectly chosen words. He could only say something that appeared to be so mundane precisely because our life together had been the opposite.

56

Did u read article advising everybody eat more cheese, Alice?

Why you ignore my texts, Alice?

HonE?

Sorry Dad. End of the school year. 2 busy 2 text. 2 busy to read. 2 busy to eat.

I worry u not eating enuf cheese. Women yr age need protein and calcium. Hope you not turn vegan out there Cali.

Trust me. U needn’t worry about my cheese intake.

News. Think might B falling in love.

What??? With who??

Conchita.

Conchita Martinez, our neighbor Conchita whose son Jeff I dated and then dumped my senior year?

Yes! That the one. She remember you fondly. Jeff, no so much. He harbor long grudge.

Why you sound like Indian in The Great Sioux Uprising? Are u spending a lot of time together?

Ever night. Hr house or mine. Mostly mine due to fact Jeff still live at home. Loser.

Oh, Dad-so happy for u.

Happy u, too. U hippily married all these years. Very proud. All turned out okay, for us, but do me favor-eat wheel of Brie today. Afraid u will collapse. U delicate flower u.

57

John Yossarian

Speaking plainly is underrated.

23 minutes ago

Okay, I’m worried that I’m becoming a problem for you, Researcher 101.

How so, Wife 22?

I’m not offending you enough.

I can’t disagree with that.

Fine. I’ll do my best to offend you more in the future because according to antonym.com pleasure is the opposite of offense, and I wouldn’t inadvertently want to give you pleasure.

One cannot be held responsible for the way one is received.

To give you pleasure was never my intention.

Is this your idea of speaking plainly, Wife 22?

You know it’s strange. The way our conversations go on and on. It’s like a river. We just keep jumping in and diving under the water. When we surface we may find we’ve drifted miles from where we were last time we spoke but it doesn’t matter. It’s still the same river. I tap you on the shoulder. You turn around. You call out. I answer.

I’m sorry you lost your engagement ring. It sounds like a very traumatic event. Did you ever tell your father the truth?

No, and I’ve always regretted it.

Why not tell him now?

Too many years have passed. What’s the point? It will just upset him.

Did you know that according to synonym.net, the definition of problem is a state of difficulty that needs to be resolved.

Is this your idea of speaking plainly, Researcher 101?

After communicating with you all these weeks I can definitively say you, Wife 22, are in need of some resolution.

I can’t disagree with that.

I can also say (a little less definitively for fear of putting you off) I would like to be the one that resolves you.

58

64. Three months into my pregnancy with Zoe, I was wretchedly sick but doing a good job of hiding it. I had actually lost five pounds from morning sickness, so nobody at the theater could tell I was pregnant-except of course for laser-eyed Bunny, who guessed my secret the instant she saw me. We had only met once before in Boston after she contacted me with the incredible news that The Barmaid won the contest. She immediately let me know that even though my script had won, it needed work. She asked if I was willing to do some rewriting. I said I was, of course, but assumed the changes would be minor.

I arrived in Blue Hill on a September afternoon. The past few weeks hadn’t been easy. William did not want me to go-certainly not when I was so sick. We had a fight over breakfast and I had stormed out, accusing him of trying to sabotage my career. I felt awful for the entire ride, but now that I stood in the doorway of the theater looking down at the stage I was light-headed with excitement. Here it was, spread out before me; my life as a real playwright was about to begin. The Blue Hill Theater smelled exactly the way a theater should smell, the top notes of dust and paper, the base notes of popcorn and cheap wine. I hugged my script to my chest and walked down the aisle to greet Bunny.

“Alice! You’re pregnant,” she said. “Congratulations! Hungry?” She held out a box of Little Debbie snack cakes.