Page 58 of Husband of the Year
“She packed us Happy Meals!” Illona lifts her paper bag and then skips off to my classroom.
“Here as in Maine?” Jill dips her chin, her jaw locked in shock.
“Yes, at my house. Hence the homemade Happy Meals. I have one too.” I lift my brown paper bag. “Apparently, she’s now a one-woman McDonald’s.”
“But why?” Jill sits on a table, pulls out a chair, and rests her feet on it.
“She thought I sounded lonely.”
“You do.”
“Whose side are you on?” I leave my backpack at the door and carefully lower myself onto a kindergarten-sized chair. It’s the closest I’ll ever come to doing a squat.
“Your side. Always. But you are lonely. Still, that’s no reason for her to show up unannounced. Why didn’t she tell you she was coming?”
“I think she knew I’d tell her not to.”
“Of course you would have.” Jill leans forward, placing a hand on my forearm.
“But it’s moot. She’s here. In my house. Cleaning and poking around.”
“And finding your… things.”
“Please. Don’t say that.” An image of my mother rummaging around my bedroom flashes in my head. Riffling through my dresser. The second drawer. Behind the socks. My stomach flips.
“What is she going to do all day while you’re at work?”
“She’s making meatloaf.”
“That can’t take her all day.”
“She wants to take a walk around the island.” I shrug. The island is just large enough for her to get lost, but she has her phone. “And she has a book.”
“You better hope it’s a long one. War and motherfucking Peace.”
“It’s fine. What is she going to do?”
“Besides find your sex toys? If my mother was in my house alone, I would lock my bedroom door and bring the key with me. No, wait, burn the house down. Without her in it, of course.”
“Jill Kim, what kinky antics are you and Nick up to?”
“Straight people can have fun in the bedroom, too.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
“I’ll have to fill you in at our next donut date. One word spoiler. Pegging.”
“No way. Stop.”
“Way. And I will not. He loves it.”
“Nick?”
Jill nods, a sheepish grin radiating in the room.
“Wow. I didn’t see that coming.”
“Neither did I. But when you’re married, you have a choice. Allowthe grapes on the vines of your relationship to wither, shrivel into raisins, or nurture them until they flourish into succulent, plump fruits.”
