Page 128 of My Wife
Can’t lie. I like where this is going.
But then she leans into the crook of my arm and adds, “I also make sure he doesn’t leave the house with mismatched socks.”
Franklin hoots a laugh.
They’ve snapped me back to reality which didn’t change. Nothing did. “Don't Stop Believin’” by Journey still plays loudly, the kids still race around—hopped up on way too much Bundt cake—and the dancefloor is full.
But maybe something inside of me shifted.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
But it’s also true. But does that mean IwantJessica?
Franklin’s wife appears with a sampler plate of mini Bundt cakes, exclaiming how Grannie Bell insisted they try each one. He kisses her on the cheek and she feeds him a bite. They rub noses and it’s the most sickeningly adorable thing I’ve ever seen. The look in his eyes is pure love. I cannot fathom how he found his way after being so broken, losing so much. All because of me.
The three of them strike up a lively conversation for a few minutes. I can’t help but wonder what Jessica thinks about me now that she knows that what happened back in high school is my fault. That I’m the reason Franklin can’t walk without assistance. I know what I think and I’ll never forgive myself for not insisting that I drive, for ruining Franklin’s chance for hockey greatness. He was always better than me … until he could no longer play. Then there was Marci, his girlfriend. I’ll punish myself for that for the rest of my life.
The past accelerates like tires skidding on ice. Anger builds inside. I brace myself for the inevitable crash. I’m done with this party. Done celebrating. I cannot fathom why anyone would want to be here around me. Awful, loathsome me.
Just then, Hendrix announces that Jessica and I missed our first dance. They chant until we hit the dancefloor set up in the middle of the yard. String lights surround it, casting an inviting glow. The only thing keeping me from tearing them down is how disappointed my mother would be along with Grannie Bell, Aunt Goldie, Grandma Dolly, and even Jessica.
I talk myself out of making a scene.
Hendrix hollers, “Be warned, Liam is a terrible dancer.”
A few people chuckle.
He’s not wrong. I was actively avoiding the dance floor, but the real truth is that I’m a terrible person.
Undaunted, Jessica leads me onto the makeshift parquet floor and we assume the proper position. “Endless Love,” by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie comes on.
“Is this our song?” she asks as bubbly as ever.
I shrug.
She searches my eyes and says, “Was it seeing Franklin?”
I know what she means but simply grunt in response.
“We don’t have to talk about it, but?—”
I prepare to hear her say everything that I’ve been told a hundred times,It wasn’t my fault.The same thing would’ve happened if I were driving.It’s time to move on.
But I never will. I can’t.
Jessica holds my gaze and says, “That’s how you got the scar on your lip, huh?”
I grunt.
“Sometimes bad things that happen cause hidden scars. Ones no one else sees. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
Then I surprise myself by replying. “To talk to you?”
Her expression is soft. “To listen. I’m your wife. You can tell me anything.”
“You’d be the last person who’d forgive me. You were in foster care, right? Didn’t the people who were supposed to take care of you—your parents—fail?”
“Yes,” she says slowly.
