Wife 22 Read Online Free Page A

secret makes me feel like a teenager. A young woman with everything still in front of her—breasts, strange cities, the unfurling of hundreds of yet-to-be-lived summers, winters, and springs.
    I open the attachment before I lose my nerve.
    1. Forty-three, no, forty-four.
    2. Bored.
    3. Once a week.
    4. Satisfactory to better than most.
    5. Oysters.
    6. Three years ago.
    7. Sometimes I tell him he’s snoring when he’s not snoring so he’ll sleep in the guest room and I can have the bed all to myself.
    8. Ambien (once in a blue moon), fish oil tablets, multi-vitamin, B-Complex, calcium, vitamin D, gingko biloba (for mental sharpness, well, really for memory because people keep saying “That is the third time you asked me that!”).
    9. A life with surprises. A life without surprises. The clerk at 7-Eleven licking her finger to separate the stack of plastic bags and then touching my salt and vinegar potato chips with her still damp licked finger and then sliding my potato chips into the previously licked plastic bag, thus doubly salivating my purchase.
    10. I hope so.
    11. I think so.
    12. Occasionally, but not because I’ve ever seriously considered it. I’m the kind of person who likes to imagine the worst, that way the worst can never take me by surprise.
    13. The chicken.
    14. He makes an amazing vinaigrette. He remembers to change the batteries every six months in the smoke alarms. He can do minor plumbing repairs, so unlike most of my friends I never have to hire somebody to fix a dripping faucet. Also he looks very good in his Carhartt pants. I know I’m avoiding answering the question—I’m not sure why. Let me get back to you on this one.
    15. Uncommunicative. Dismissive. Distant.
    16.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
    17. We’ve been together for nineteen years and three hundred and something days, my point is very, very, well.
    This is easy.
Too
easy. Who knew that confession could bring on such a dopamine rush?
    Suddenly the front door is flung open and Peter yells, “I call the bathroom first.”
    He has a thing about not using the bathroom at school, so he holds it all day. I close my laptop. This is
also
my favorite time of the day—when the empty house fills back up again and within an hour all of my de-cluttering is for naught. For some reason this gives me pleasure. The satisfying inevitability of it all.
    Zoe walks into the kitchen and makes a face. “Tuna casserole?”
    “It’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
    “I already ate.”
    “At volleyball practice?”
    “Karen’s mother stopped on the way home and got us burritos.”
    “So Peter’s eaten, too?”
    Zoe nods and opens the fridge.
    I sigh. “What are you looking for? I thought you just ate.”
    “I don’t know. Nothing,” she says, closing the door.
    “Dang! What did you do to your hair?” asks Peter, walking into the kitchen.
    “Oh, God, I forgot. One of my kids was playing hairdresser. I thought it was kind of Audrey Hepburnesque. No?”
    “No,” says Zoe.
    “No,” echoes Peter.
    I slide the elastic out of my hair and try and smooth it out.
    “Maybe if you combed it once in a while,” says Zoe.
    “Why is everybody so comb crazy? For your information, there are certain types of hair that should never be combed. You should just let it dry naturally.”
    “Uh-huh,” says Zoe, grabbing her backpack. “I’ve got a ton of homework. See you in 2021.”
    “Half an hour of Modern Warfare before homework?” asks Peter.
    “Ten minutes,” I say.
    “Twenty.”
    “Fifteen.”
    Peter throws his arms around me. Even though he’s twelve, I still occasionallyget hugs. A few minutes later, the sounds of guns and bombs issue forth from the living room.
    My phone chirps. It’s a text from William.
    Sorry.
    Client dinner.
    See u 10ish.
    I open my laptop, quickly reread my answers, and hit Send.

7
    From: researcher101
    Subject: #13
    Date: May 5, 8:05 AM
    To: Wife 22