Wife 22

Part 3

80

“Perfect timing, Alice will settle the argument,” says Bunny, smiling at me as I enter the room.

Bunny sits on the chaise, looking as if she’s been sitting there for a hundred years. Her bandaged leg is propped up on a pillow, her feet are bare, and her toenails are painted a cheerful shade of tangerine. Even injured, she’s a veritable poster girl for aging gracefully. She must be in her sixties now and she’s more beautiful than ever.

“Bunny, I’m so sorry about your leg,” I say.

“Pah,” says Bunny. “We’re practically friends now, aren’t we, Jampo?”

Jampo is curled up on his dog bed in the corner of the room. When he hears his name he lifts his head.

“Bad, stinky dog,” I admonish him.

He growls softly and then lays his head back down on his crossed paws.

Jack stands, all limbs and freckles and a full head of ginger hair. He has the coloring of a tabby cat; peaches and cream, just like Caroline. I never got to know him as well as I did Bunny, even though he practically lived at the Blue Hill Theater when I was mounting my play (he liked to refer to himself as Bunny’s personal jack-of-all-trades), but he was always very kind to me.

“Take my seat, Alice,” he says.

“There’s plenty of room here, too,” says William, patting the cushion of the couch.

I can’t bring myself to look at him. “I’m fine. I’ll sit on the floor.”

Jack raises his eyebrows.

“Really, the floor is my favorite place.”

“It’s true, she prefers it,” says William. “Frequently she sits on the floor even when there are chairs available.”

“I used to like the floor, too. Until my hips stopped preferring it,” says Jack.

“Did you take your baby aspirin today?” asks Bunny.

“Baby aspirin has nothing to do with hips,” says Jack.

“Yes, but it has something to do with hearts, my love,” says Bunny.

I had forgotten how Bunny called Jack “my love.” That term of endearment always struck me as so romantic. After the Barmaid run was over, when I went home to Boston I tried calling William “my love,” but it just felt too much like an affectation. “My love” was something you had to earn, or be born into. I glance at William, who smiles pleasantly back at me, and I feel nauseous.

“Jack had a thing with his heart a few months ago,” explains Bunny.

“Oh, no-was it serious?” I ask.

“No,” says Jack. “Bunny worries unnecessarily.”

“That’s called looking out for you,” says Bunny.

“ ‘Looking out for me’ means she took all the Rihanna off my iPod and replaced it with Verdi.”

“You listen to Rihanna?” I ask.

“He was playing his music too loud,” says Bunny. “Deaf and a bad heart are too much for me to be expected to bear.”

“A shame,” says Jack. “A little deafness isn’t the worst thing for a marriage.” He winks at me.

“Alice,” exclaims Bunny. “Look at you. You’re glowing! The forties are such a wonderful decade. Before you get too comfortable, come here and give me a proper hello.”

I cross the room, sit down on the edge of the chaise, and sink into her arms. She smells exactly the way I remembered-of freesia and magnolia.

“Everything okay?” she whispers.

“Just life,” I mumble back.

“Ah-life. We’ll talk later, hmmm?” she says softly into my ear.

I nod, embrace her once more, and slip onto the floor beside her. “So what’s the argument?” I ask.

“Christiane Amanpour or Katie Couric?” says Bunny.

“Well, I like them both but if I had to choose,” I say, “Christiane.”

“We’re arguing about who’s more attractive,” says William, “not who’s a better reporter.”

“What does it matter how attractive they are?” I say. “These are women who talk to presidents, prime ministers, and dignitaries.”

“That was exactly my response,” says Bunny.

“How’s Nedra?” asks William.

“I-uh.”

“You-uh,” he says.

“Sorry. I’m just tired. She’s wonderful. We had a lot to catch up on.”

“Really?” he says. “Didn’t you just talk to her yesterday?”

Stay calm, Alice. Keep it simple. Whatever you do, don’t look up and to the right when you talk to him. That’s a sure sign somebody is lying. And don’t blink. Absolutely no blinking. “Well, yes, on the phone, but we rarely get a chance to talk in person. Without anybody else there. You know how it is,” I say, my eyes boring into his.

William gives me a bug-eyed look in return. I try and soften my gaze.

“Nedra’s Alice’s best friend. She’s getting married,” says William.

“How wonderful! Who’s the lucky man?” asks Bunny.

“Lucky woman. Her name’s Kate O’Halloran,” I say.

“Well. All right. Nedra and Kate. I can’t wait to meet them,” says Bunny.

“Alice is the maid of honor,” says William.

“Actually, I haven’t quite agreed to that yet.”

“I can see why. Maid is so medieval. Why not woman? Woman of honor,” asks Bunny.

I bob my head agreeably. Why the hell not? I’m a woman of honor-at least I used to be, before tonight.

“Well,” says Jack, looking at his watch. “I’m beat. Let’s hit it, Bunny. It’s nearly one in the morning our time.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, leaping to my feet. “I’m being so rude. Has anybody shown you to your room?”

I hear the TV blaring from the den and the sound of the kids talking over it.

“Yes, yes. William already brought our luggage up,” says Bunny. “And, Alice, you must promise to tell us when you become sick of us. Our return tickets are three weeks from now, but like Mark Twain says, visitors and fishes start to stink after…”

“I’ll never be sick of you,” I say. “You can stay here as long as you like. So you’re between shows?”

Bunny nods, following Jack up the stairs. “I’ve got a pile of scripts. I’m trying to decide what to do next. I’m hoping you’ll help me. Read through some of them?”

“I’d be honored. I think I’ll go to bed, too. It’s been a long day,” I say, faking a yawn. I plan to pretend to be asleep when William comes up.

“I’ll check on the kids,” says William once Bunny and Jack have disappeared into the guest room.

“Make sure that you tell them to shut off all the lights when they’re done with their show.” I head up the stairs.

“Alice?”

“What?”

“Should I bring you up some tea?”

I spin around, paranoid. Does he know something? “Why would I want tea? I just spent all evening drinking tea with Nedra.”

“Oh-right. Sorry, I just thought you might want something warm.”