Page 55 of My Wife
Jessica: Do all athletes wear suits to games?
Me: I’m pretty sure it’s just a hockey thing.
I realize now that as the first month of her being my assistant ends, our messages have become more casual with both of us inserting questions and thoughts.
I tell myself I want to keep it simple. Straightforward and cinnamon spice-free. Probably. I mean, I prefer that flavor profile to licorice.
Me: Tell the watch brand that I only do hockey product endorsements.
Jessica: Are you seriously passing up one of those dark and gloomy luxury brand ads commonly seen on subway billboards? You have a perfectly broody look that’s just begging for the spotlight and for someone to draw a mustache on your upper lip with a permanent marker.
I do my level best not to laugh. I stopped shaving and grew out my facial hair the day she started working for me. Hopefully, she despises it.
Me: I already have a beard.
Jessica: I like it when you shave.
Me: I didn’t ask.
Jessica: By now you must realize that I offer up my opinion free of charge.
She sure does and it’s kind of growing on me. Like the beard. But if she prefers me without it …
Jessica: My favorite Liam Ellis look is in the morning before shaving. Like an eight a.m. shadow.
She has a favorite? I’m not sure what to think of that, except it sends a whoosh rushing through me.
I tell myself that I preferred life pre-Jessica Fuller. However, there’s a lot to like about her.
She’s genuine. Not fake.
Sweet. Not saccharine.
Bubbly. Not bombastic.
Scratch the last. Depending on her caffeine level, she can come in sparkling like a disco ball or bashing through my walls like a wrecking ball.
On the other side of the bed, the kid turns over, letting out a soft little snore.
I take a deep breath, realizing the last time I felt like I had any oxygen in my lungs was when I was with Jessica earlier. She and the kid were playing a patty-cake kind of game. The other day my trainer even noticed, commenting that my inhales were shallow.
What she said at the Fish Bowl floats into my mind and finally lands with a thud. Yeah, he needs to see a doctor about his hearing. I’m so out of my depth, I don’t even know where to begin. But I have to start with what’s best for him, which means I can no longer deny there’s an issue.
Me: Schedule a time for your grandmother to meet the kid.
Jessica: Seriously? She’s going to be thrilled. He’s going to adore her and learn so much. This is the best decision you’ve ever made. I’ve seen her work miracles. We’ll have to celebrate!
Before I talk myself out of it, I send a final message.
Me: In that case, make me a Bundt cake.
Jessica: I thought you’d never ask.
I’m about to shut off my phone when it vibrates with another text. But my thread with Jessica left off with her message.
The message is from Pam. The wordsI want him backaccompany an image of part of our custody paperwork. The fine print.
A swarm of wasps fills my stomach. My face feels hot.
