Page 50 of My Wife
“I’m mostly making this up as I go along, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t optimize my ability to assist you.”
“Do I really need your help?”
Grandma Dolly nods vigorously. Maybe I’m not a fan of her after all. Then again, my grandmother can be brutally honest, too. Usually, she’s right.
“Listen, all I want to do is play my best, lead the team to the Finals, win the Stanley. End of story.” But there’s a hidden chapter and I’m afraid of anyone finding out.
“Which is why I thought it would be beneficial for us to have this meeting.”
“But I suggested it.”
Jessica smiles primly. She commented that she’s making things up as she goes along, however, maybe she’s more clever than I thought. Why though? I can’t track her angle. Is it to annoy me? To tempt me?
Leah brings the potato skins and places them on Jessica and Grandma Dolly’s side of the table, only leaving two plates alongside extra napkins. “If there’s anything else I can bring you, please let me know. Enjoy.” She wrinkles her nose at me.
Predictably, Jessica smiles at the appetizers. Then she and Grandma Dolly join hands and bow their heads in a silent prayer. Jessica takes a bite and then raves about how delicious the potato skins are.
Grandma Dolly signs and she translates, “You’re missing out.”
They do look delicious with all that melty cheese. I decline a lot of things in my life, but focus and hard work got me to where I am. It’s payment for what I did.
Jessica scoops one of the potato pucks onto a napkin and slides it in front of me, narrating each movement like a hockey commentator. “Fuller is in possession of the puck, she breaks away, rushing toward the goal, and she scores!” At that last word, she lifts her arms and cheers.
At the same time, I reach for my water. In a right-handed-oriented world, she’s not used to being around left-handed people. Our hands bump and the tall cups of water teeter then totter as we both scramble to make sure they don’t tip.
Nostrils flaring, we manage to keep from having a calamity, but this woman is a hazard. She can’t be part of my life, especially not with how having any amount of contact makes me feel off-kilter and all whooshy inside.
“Whoopsie.”
She’s got that right.
“I was making a special potato skin delivery. You looked sad over there without one.”
Call me stubborn, but I’m not going to eat the potato skin. Not even if what she did with the commentary before we almost had a massive spill was kind of cute.
I don’t like the way I feel around her. It’s like I’m behind the wheel but losing my grip and skidding dangerously toward a ravine bordered by animosity and attraction.
I just can’t let myself go over the edge.
But what if it’s not entirely up to me?
My foot is on the accelerator, but I have to remain in control.
15
LIAM
Meeting with Jessicaand her grandmother at the Fish Bowl last week concluded with the two of them having a very candid conversation with me about the kid’s potential auditory thresholds.
I’d bet ten to one that this woman would walk over hot coals, hang glide, and swim with sharks all on the same day. She’s an unstoppable force of hopefulness and honesty.
And I’m not sure how I feel about my fatherhood status coming to the surface. On the one hand, I can only keep the secret for so long. On the other, there will be repercussions.
I’m not a liar, but rather an avoider. I’ll stay in my lane over here where everyone drives at a safe speed and uses their blinker.
Except when I’m on the ice. I spend a lot of time there during the following days, doing my level best to forget about hearing Jessica laugh first thing in the morning when she shows up with my coffee, drawing the kid out of his shell, and somehow anticipating various things—my passport renewal documents from the Canadian embassy, a greeting card and gift for my manager who just added a baby to the family, and making sure the laundry gets done.
But that’s not the worst of it.
