The Boxed Wine of Amontillado

Chad? Chad, honey, can you do me a favor? When the kids unpacked the Costco run they put the boxed wine down in the basement. Can you run and get it for me?

Yes, I know the game’s on, but it’ll only take a second. You know I’m not strong enough to get the 10-liter box back up the stairs. That’s why I married you, silly!

Oh, you know how the kids are. They probably just stuck it in the room way in the back. Remember, the one we used to use as a guest room until you called my Aunt Patty a liberal snowflake and said she wasn’t invited to Thanksgiving because she wasn’t grateful enough for living in this country? 

No, I don’t think Aunt Patty is a lesbian just because she drives a Subaru. They’re good cars, Chad. Now can you be a dear and go get that wine for me?

Thank you so much, honey. I know you hate to miss your commercials. Gosh, I’m not sure who Cardi B is either! Maybe I can Google that for you, since you don’t seem to be able to do even the most basic things in life without asking for a woman’s assistance.

I didn’t say anything! Alright, I’ll come downstairs. Just hang on.

Whoops, I think I left my yoga mat behind the door of the room you’re in! ! I’d better grab that so I can get my mid-day quadyasanya in. Like you told everybody yesterday at my birthday dinner, I’m no Ivanka! Let me just shut you in there real quick-

What do you mean it’s stuck? 

Well, I’ve never had any trouble with that door, and no woman I know has ever had any trouble with it either. It must be you. Have you tried leaning in?

Chad, I’m having a lot of trouble hearing you. It might be because you had that room sound-proofed so you didn’t have to hear Aunt Patty watching MSNBC. 

Or maybe I’m just really, really sick of listening to you talk.

Are you alright, Chad?  I’m pretty sure you’re sobbing right now. How embarrassing. You sound like the man in the razor commercial you wrote all those angry letters about.

I guess we don’t see eye-to-eye here, darling. To tell you the truth, we haven’t been on the same page for a while. Ever since you started wearing that red hat and got us kicked out of Applebees by threatening to call ICE on the kitchen staff, I’ve felt like I’m married to a stranger. Maybe I am. Maybe I always have been.

Did I ever tell you about my new friend Mits? I met her in my Power Bottom Booty Yoga class. We’ve been talking a lot lately. Do you know what “freedom” means? What it really means? I didn’t until she spelled it with her fingertips on my bare back, one afternoon when we were in the showers after class. 

That’s when I really came to understand it, I think. That’s when I started to understand a lot of things about myself, and you, and the life we’ve built together.

Mitsi drives a Subaru, Chad, but that’s neither here nor there.

Oh, don’t be such a baby. I left your Game Boy in there for you, and a pile of Lunchables, and a copy of the Combahee River Collective Statement. You’ll be just fine until Mitsi and I get back from the reproductive justice summit. I think I’ll be home by Wednesday.

Or Thursday.

Or Saturday?

Get reading, Chad.