Wife 22

3. Often I wish I were more like you.

Zoe, my baby-I am in the still-in-your-camp-even-though-you-can-barely-stand-to-look-at-me-most-of-the- time-right-now stage. It’s difficult, but I’m muddling through. Soy venti lattes help the time pass, as does watching Gone with the Wind.

Your loving Mama

64

John Yossarian changed his profile picture

Do you like walking in circles, Researcher 101?

Sometimes walking in circles can be very helpful.

I suppose-as long as the circle walking is intentional.

I’ve been imagining what you look like, Wife 22.

I can’t divulge that information; however, I can tell you I’m not a Hutterite.

You have chestnut-colored hair.

I do?

Yes, but you would likely describe it as mouse brown because you tend to underestimate yourself, but you have the kind of hair women envy.

That’s why I always get such dirty looks.

Eyes, brown as well. Possibly hazel.

Or possibly blue. Or possibly green.

You’re pretty, and I mean this as a compliment. Pretty is what lies between beautiful and plain, and in my experience pretty is the best place to be.

I think I’d rather be beautiful.

Beautiful makes evolving into any sort of a person with morals and character very difficult.

I think I’d rather be plain.

Plain-what can I say about that? So much of life is a lottery.

So you think of me when we’re not chatting online?

Yes.

In your regular life? Your civilian life?

Frequently I’ll find myself in the middle of doing something mundane, emptying the dishwasher or listening to the radio, and something you said will pop into my head and I’ll get this amused look on my face and my wife will ask me what’s so funny.

What do you tell her?

That I met this woman online.

You do not.

No, but soon I may have to.

65

Kelly Cho

Loves being in charge.

5 minutes ago

Caroline Kilborn

Is full.

32 minutes ago

Phil Archer

Cleaning house.

52 minutes ago

William Buckle

Gimme Shelter

3 hours ago

“Could you please stop checking Facebook, Alice? For one bloody minute?” asks Nedra.

I set my phone on vibrate and slip it into my purse.

“So, as I was just saying but will repeat for your benefit-I have some big news. I’m going to ask Kate to marry me.”

Nedra and I are browsing in a jewelry store on College Ave.

“And what’s your opinion on moonstones?” she adds.

“Oh, dear,” I say.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“I heard.”

“And all you have to say is ‘Oh, dear’? May I see that one, please,” says Nedra, pointing to an oval moonstone set in eighteen-karat gold.

The saleswoman hands it to her and she slips it on her finger.

“Let me see,” I say, grabbing her arm. “I don’t get it. Is there something about moonstones and lesbians? Some Sapphic thing that I’m missing?”

“For God’s sake,” says Nedra. “Why am I asking you? You have no taste in jewelry. In fact, you never wear jewelry and you really should, darling. It would perk you up a bit.” She studies my face worriedly. “Still having insomnia?”

“I’m going for the French no-makeup look.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but the French no-makeup look only works in France. The light is different there. Kinder. American light is so crude.”

“Why do you want to get married now? You’ve been together thirteen years. You never wanted to get married before. What’s changed?”

Nedra shrugs. “I’m not sure. We just woke up one morning and solidifying our relationship felt right. It’s the strangest thing. I don’t know if it’s my age or something-the big five-oh looming. But suddenly I want tradition.”

“The big five-oh is not looming. You won’t be fifty for another nine years. Besides, things are great with you and Kate. If you get married you’ll be all screwed up like the rest of us.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be my maid of honor?”

“You’re going to do the whole thing? Bridesmaids, too?” I say.

“You and William are screwed up? Since when?”

“We’re not screwed up. We’re just-distant. It’s been incredibly stressful. Him losing his job.”

“Mmm. Can I try that one?” Nedra asks the saleswoman, gesturing to a marquise-cut diamond ring.

She puts it on her finger, extends her arm, and admires her hand.

“It’s a bit Cinderella-ey, but I like it. The question is, will Kate? Alice, you’re in a rather bad mood today. Let’s forget we ever had this conversation. Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to call you tomorrow. You’re going to say, ‘Hello, Nedra, what’s new?’ I’m going to say, ‘I have news; I’ve asked Kate to marry me!’ You’re going to say, ‘Goodness-about time! When can we go out shopping for dresses? And can I accompany you to the cake tasting?’ ” Nedra hands the ring back to the saleswoman. “Too flashy. I need something more subtle. I’m a divorce