Wife 22

“You don’t know how long!”

“Well, you just let it out now. I’ll stay here with you until you’re done.”

“It’s just that I don’t know if I’m a good person or a bad person. I’m thinking right now I’m a bad person. A cold person. I can be very cold, you know.”

“Everybody can,” she says.

“Especially to my husband.”

“Ah-it’s easiest to be cold to those we love.”

“I know. But why?” I sob.

Bunny sits with me until I arrive at that exhausted, washed-out, clear place on the other side of shame, where the air smells of late summer, of chlorine with a rising note of back-to-school supplies, and I feel for the first time in a very long time-hope.

“Better?” asks Bunny.

I nod. “I’m ridiculous.”

“No,” she says. “Just a little lost, like all of us.”

“I’ve been writing, you know.”

“You have?”

“Yes. Little scenes. About my life. Me and William-when we first met. Dinner parties. Conversations. Nothing interesting. But it’s a start.”

“Wonderful! I’d love to look at what you’ve got.”

“You would?”

“Of course. I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

“Really?”

“Oh, Alice. Why are you so surprised?”

I look at the handkerchief balled up in my hand. “I’ve ruined your hankie.”

“Pah. Give me that.”

“No! It’s disgusting.”

“Give it!” she orders.

I drop it into her waiting hand.

“Don’t you understand, Alice? Nothing you do can disgust me.”

“That’s what I say to my kids.”

“That’s what I say to my kids, too,” she says softly, stroking my hair.

I start to sob again. She presses the handkerchief back into my hand. “It appears I took this prematurely.”

85

Lucy Pevensie added her Favorite Quotation

“Is-is he a man?” asked Lucy.

Well, is he, Researcher 101?

I’m not sure what you’re asking, Wife 22.

Does a real man leave his wife?

A real man looks for his wife.

And then what?

I’m not sure. Why are you asking?

I haven’t been the best of wives.

I haven’t been the best of husbands.

So maybe you should look for your wife.

Maybe you should look for your husband, too.

Why should I look for him?

He may be lost.

He’s not lost. He’s in the garage building shelves.

In his Carhartt pants?

You don’t forget anything, do you?

I forget plenty of things; however, the Internet does not.

He’s got a cute ass in those pants.

What makes a cute ass?

An ass that’s bigger than mine.

I’m going to the movies today with my wife.

You know, Researcher 101, I’m getting very mixed messages from you.

I know. I’m sorry. But that’s precisely why I’m going to the movies with my wife. I’ve been thinking about this a lot. I’ve reread all your answers from the survey and I’m convinced there is some spark left in your marriage. If there wasn’t, you wouldn’t be able to write about your courtship the way that you did. It’s not over between you and him. It’s not over between my wife and me, either. I’m making an effort. I think you should do the same with your husband.

And if it doesn’t work out with our spouses?

Then six months from now we’ll meet at Tea & Circumstances.

Let me ask you something.

Anything.

If we had met? If you had showed up that night? What do you think would have happened?

I think you would have been disappointed.

Why? What are you keeping from me? Do you have scales? Do you weigh 600 pounds? Do you have a comb-over?

Let’s just say I would not be what you had expected.

Are you sure about that?

The meeting was premature. It would have been disastrous. I’m convinced of that.

How so?

Each of us would have lost everything.

And now?

We lose only one thing.

What’s that?

The fantasy.

What are you going to see?

The new Daniel Craig movie. My wife likes Daniel Craig.

My husband likes Daniel Craig, too. Maybe your wife and my husband should get together.

86

I find William out in the garage standing on a ladder, wearing, yes, his Carhartt pants.

“I heard there’s a great new Daniel Craig movie out. Want to go see it?” I ask.

“Hold on,” William mumbles and quickly finishes mounting a bracket on the wall. “I thought you hated Daniel Craig.”

“He’s growing on me.”

“Hand me that shelf,” says William. I give it to him and he slides the shelf into place. “Damn. It’s crooked. I