Page 68 of My Wife
Jessica’s shoulders drop and she almost loses her grip on the bowl, then slides on her ‘Everything is fine’ mask. “Sure. Let me put away the cake real quick so it doesn’t dry out.”
When we get outside, the night is torn between the winter chill and the pending spring thaw.
Jessica wraps her arms around her chest and stops in front of a compact Nissan that looks like it’s ready to be recycled.
Pulling open the driver’s side door for Jessica, the handle comes off in my fingers, and the interior light flickers long enough for me to glimpse the scattering of clothing, boxes, and other items strewn in the front and back.
“You have to grip it just so.” She takes the rusty metal from me and our hands brush, sending a whoosh of warmth through me once again.
“Did you give a raccoon a ride? Live in here with a bum?” I blurt.
“Just because you’re Mr. Perfect with nary a crumb in your vehicle, doesn’t mean we all have the time or energy to keep our cars immaculate.”
Despite how drawn I feel to her, there’s no denying that we’re the opposite in so many ways.
I grip the window frame of the door because it repeatedly tries to close on Jessica’s legs as she moves to get in.
Before she turns the ignition, she lets out a breath, whether because she’s hoping this jalopy will start or for another reason, I’m not sure.
Voice thick, I say, “I want you to quit.”
She hops to her feet, eyes alight with concern. “Do you not like the daily agenda I make for you with the colorful felt-tip pens or my sticker system? I can do it another way, or not do one at all. I’m here to help so if?—”
Before she works herself into a frenzy, I grip her upper arms and say, “Jessica, I want you to help with the kid. Be the nanny.”
Jaw parting, she looks up at me. “Oh. But that’s not in my job description.”
“You’re great with him.”
“I visited childcare centers earlier. He needs to socialize.”
“What if he bites another kid?” I quell the panic in my voice every time I think about how out of control my life has become. How out of control I feel around Jessica. Like I could pull this woman into my arms. Feel her soft warmth melt against me. Thankfully, the car’s dented door remains between us.
“That’s why he needs interaction, discipline, and structure. When you started playing hockey, did you just fling the stick and puck around?”
“Probably. I was like two.”
“And KJ is three. He’ll be fine. Trust me. I was.” She gazes at her shoes.
I’ve gleaned there’s a lot to her story hidden behind her perpetual smile and bubbly personality. Gently, I ask, “You were what?”
“I turned out fine and so far, KJ has a lot better of a situation. People who care, for starters.”
“Then will you be the nanny?”
“After you just insulted my car?”
“Please, Jessica?”
“Could I wear a Mary Poppins uniform?”
“No.”
“But I have a costume for every occasion.”
“What about the gold disco queen thing you mentioned?” I can’t be sure, but I might be grinning. I forget what it feels like.
“I hardly think that would be suitable for—” She gasps and her hand flies to her mouth. “That sounds like something approaching a compliment.”
