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I didn’t have to be perfect anymore, and that came as a strange sort of parting gift. A gift I hadn’t asked for and didn’t want. But I’d been fond of perfect. I’d liked that look for me. And I’d played by the rules of perfect. I’d done everything right. And none of it mattered.
“The start of your villain era,” she said. “The ‘no fucks given, ask me if I care, throw out your whole life and start over just because you feel like it’ era.”
Gennie took that moment to stab her sword at the ground and announce, “I’m bored as a motherfucker.” To her credit, Shay had no reaction to Gennie’s outburst. She only blinked and glanced up at me. “Imogen,” I snapped. “This is why they gave you the boot from summer school. We’ve been talking about this. You can’t—” “But that’s how bored I am.” Turning to Shay, she grabbed her hand and said, “Can I show you the goats? They’re so funny.”
“I’m not allowed in that field,” Gennie said, pointing her sword toward the white boxes in the distance. “It’s for the bees and Noah says bees are too busy making honey to be nice to me.”
“And we have chickens too,” Gennie said, “but they’re dumb bitches.” “Imogen,” I cried. “We just talked about calling things dumb and you know that other word is not acceptable.” Gennie cut a glance toward Shay. Her voice lowered, she said, “But they’re not smart.”
“Figure out if I’m marrying you, okay? Good.” I watched as he headed in the direction of the goats with his new body and new personality. And his marriage proposal.
“I know it’s insane to ask this but if you can go along with me for five minutes, I will personally plow and plant your fields whenever you want it. Okay?” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Not when those words went in one ear and landed right between my legs. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered. “Please.” I had no idea what was happening but Noah was so close and he was holding me so tight that it didn’t matter. And that please had rumbled over his lips in the very best way, like an apology begged a moment before sinning.
“I’m not sure. Is there something you’d share with me?” Only everything in the entire world.
“The dogs went crazy last night,” Gennie said. “Do you want me to tell you about it?” “Definitely,” Grace replied. “Start at the beginning. Leave nothing out. What are the dogs’ names?” “Bernie Sanders, Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Sandra Day O’Connor, and RuPaul were the troublemakers,” Gennie said.
“Have I traumatized you?” She glanced over at me. “I’ve traumatized you. Oh my god. I’m sorry. You’ve seen my asshole and now you’re traumatized.” She burst into laughter, leaning against me as it shook her body. “You’re going to need to burn that vivid view of my ass from your memory, aren’t you?”
“Bodies are extremely temporary and they’re the least interesting things about us. They carry us around while we’re on this earth and there’s nothing more I can ask from my body than that. I certainly wouldn’t spend any time worrying about the size or shape of anyone else’s body. Not when I could care about their heart and their mind instead.”
Gennie piped up then. “You said you had to do something decent for Shay to make up for running into her house like an ape and not minding your goddamn manners this morning.” She adjusted her eye patch to dangle from her neck. “You said you’d have to bring her a big fucking fruit basket. You said fucking. I didn’t say fucking. It was you. But I think a big fucking fruit basket is dumb. No one wants a basket of fruit.”
“Sweetheart, I don’t have a single clue what you’re trying to do here but I know you need to stop spending all your time wondering what you did wrong when these half-assed people leave you. Stop giving yourself to people who have no hope of ever playing on your level. Stop chasing people who don’t know how to show up for you. It’s a waste of your time and so are they. Let them go. Let the door hit them on the ass on the way out. They’re the ones who fucked up. Not you.”
“Allow me to make myself clear. I don’t give a pickled fuck how or why we came to be married. You are my wife. If you need some fun, you’ll call me. I’ll be the one taking care of you. I’ll give you anything you want, including a properly prepared gin and tonic. If you can’t accept that, you’re welcome to divorce me now.”
“What about lemonade?” she asked. “That too. Make good choices. Don’t spend it all in one place. And don’t start any fights.” “Those fuckers better not start any fights with me.” I pulled the cash back. “What was that?” “Nothing,” she muttered. “No fights.”
“Wait.” I reached for him but he gathered my hands and looped them around his neck. “What do I taste like?” He nuzzled into the crook of my shoulder and replied with a soft growl. “My wife.”
“Just because I can plow through by myself doesn’t mean I want to,” I said. “Fuck, Shay. Let me need you, okay?”
I felt like I’d been waiting a very long time for someone who knew how to shatter me and also wanted to pick up all the pieces.
“So, why don’t you tell me what the hell you did the same thing, wife?” “It was my turn to save you, husband.” He pressed his lips to mine and I knew. This was all the proof I needed.
