Wife 22

Me: Well-I’m not going to lie.

Linda: You’re saying I’m lying?

Me: I’m saying you might be stretching the truth.

William: Pass the Blabarsplat.

Me: Once a month.

William: (coughs)

9:38: In the kitchen, putting leftover food into Tupperware containers

Nedra: My forehead is shiny. I’m stuffed. I’m drunk. Put away your phone, Alice. I don’t want my photo taken.

Me: You’ll thank me one day.

Nedra: You do not have my permission to post this on Facebook. I have plenty of enemies. I would prefer they not know where I live.

Me: Calm down. It’s not like I’m posting your address.

Nedra (grabbing my phone out of my hand, her thumbs working the screen): It is like you’re posting my address. If your phone has a GPS, your photos have geotags embedded in them. Those tags provide the exact longitude and latitude of where the photo was taken. Most people don’t know that geotags even exist, which let me tell you has worked to many of my clients’ advantages. There. I’ve shut off the location services setting on your camera. Now you may take my picture.

Me: Forget it. You’ve taken all the fun out of it.

Nedra: So you were exaggerating, right? You have sex more than once a month.

Me (sighing): No, I was telling the truth. At least lately that’s how it is.

Nedra: It may feel like once a month, but I’m sure it’s more. Why don’t you keep track of it. There’s probably some phone app created just for that purpose.

Me: Have you seen the Why Am I Such a Bitch app? It’s free. Tells you what day you are in your cycle. There’s a version for men, too, only it’s $3.99. It’s the Why Is My Lady Such a Bitch app. And for $4.99 you can upgrade to the Never Ask Your Lady if She’s About to Get Her Period app.

Nedra: What does that do?

Me: It charges you $4.99 every time you’re stupid enough to ask your lady if she’s about to get her period.

Nedra (a look of horror on her face): What are you doing? Don’t toss the Blabarsplat!

10:46: Through the bathroom door

Me: Anybody in there?

William (opening door): No.

Me (shuffling from one side to the other, trying to get by William and into the bathroom): Pick a side, William. Left or right?

William: Alice?

Me: What? (trying to squish past him) I have to go to the bathroom.

William: Look at me.

Me: After I pee.

William: No, look at me now. Please.

Me (looking at the floor): Okay, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have told EVERYBODY we only have sex once a month.

William: I don’t care about that.

Me: You should care. That’s private information.

William: It doesn’t mean anything.

Me: It means something to me. Besides, it’s probably more than once a month. We should keep track of it.

William: It’s once a month lately.

Me: See-you care. (Pause.) Why are you looking at me like that? Say something. (Pause.) William, if you don’t move out of my way I’m going to have an accident. Now, left or right?

William (long pause): I loved that night in your office.

Me (longer pause): Me, too.

10:52: Wandering through the garden

Bobby: I sense you’re interested in the master suites idea.

Me: The lanterns are magical. It’s like Narnia back here.

Bobby: I can email you the name of my contractor.

Me: If we made two master suites out of our bedroom, we’d each be in a room the dimensions of a prison cell.

Bobby: It’s changed our lives. I’m not lying.

Me (touching his cheek with the palm of my hand) : I’m happy for you, Bobby. I really am. But I don’t think separate bedrooms is going to fix us.

Bobby: I knew it! You guys are having problems.

Me: Do you think Aslan could be waiting for us on the other side of that hedge?

Bobby: Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic about your struggles.

Me: I’m not struggling, Bobby. I’m waking up. This is me waking up (lying down on the grass).

Bobby (staring down at me): You waking up looks remarkably similar to you after five glasses of wine.

Me (gasp): Bobby B! There’s so many stars! When did there get to be so many stars? This is what happens when we forget to look up.

Bobby: Nobody’s called me Bobby B in a long time.

Me: Bobby B, are you crying?

11:48: Walking upstairs to our bedroom

Me: It would appear I’m a little drunk.

William: Take my arm.

Me: I suppose now would be a good time to have sex.

William: You’re more than a little drunk, Alice.

Me (slurring): Am I unbecomingly drunk or becomingly drunk?

William (escorting me into the bedroom): Get undressed.

Me: I don’t think I’m capable of that at the moment. You undress me. I’ll just close my eyes and have a little rest while you take advantage of me. That will still count, won’t it? In our monthly total? If I fall asleep while we’re doing it? Hopefully I won’t vomit.

William (unbuttoning my shirt and taking it off) : Sit down, Alice.

Me: Wait, I’m unprepared. Give me a second to hold in my stomach.

William (sliding my pajama top over my head, pushing me back into the pillows, and covering me with a blanket): I’ve seen your stomach before. Besides, it’s completely dark.

Me: Well, since it’s completely dark you’re welcome to pretend I’m Angelina Jolie. Pax!