Page 87 of Perfect Satisfaction

Then, to my utter shock, she flushes to the roots of her hair before blurting out something that has my jaw slacking—half chewed popcorn and all. “I never had a strong female influence in my life until Dani Madison and I really got to know one another. I like movies like this. They’re like the childhood I never really got to have.”

I drop the remaining popcorn in the bowl and move the entire thing to the table. “It was the same for me.”

Her eyes get round. “Really?”

God, how did we never talk about this? I nod without losing her eyes. “Gramps and Grandma raised me. My father was as absent as a person could be and legally retain custody rights.”

“Your mother?” she asks, scooting closer.

“I know who she is, but she took off.”

She tilts her head to the side. “No desire to form a relationship?”

“She didn’t want one with me,” I say simply. Then to elaborate, I add, “I had the best female influence in my life growing up.”

“Your grandmother. I remember you saying so many wonderful things about her.” Sula’s lips curve but there’s an air of sadness lingering between us.

I bop my wife on the nose before I confess, “She’d have liked you.”

Her eyes widen. “Me? But I...”

“Refused to take shit from a man in your life. So did she.”

Her eyes ask questions I’m not ready to answer because it’s not my story, not entirely. Instead, I decide to change the topic. I lean forward until our noses are practically touching and challenge, “Now, tell me the real reason you like this movie.”

“Because it’s what college should have been like.” I feel my heart start to splinter when she cracks it open with her next words. “Those girls owned their sexuality and weren’t brutalized for it. They didn’t spend hours under interrogation from police and student advisory boards, being judged for doing what thousands of other women do across college campuses every single day. I love this movie because it’s fun and flirtatious and as many times as I’ve watched it, I still can’t figure it out.”

There’s confusion mingled with despair on her face. I trail my fingers over the skin on her cheek, making her breath catch. “Figure what out?”

“What I did wrong. I was eighteen and I must have done something wrong. I watch all these movies trying to pinpoint where that night I did something wrong for Angie to get hurt.” She reaches up to touch her cheek where my fingers just were—as if to hold the warmth there.

It’s at this moment I realize I’m never going to get over my wife, no matter what.

I need to let whatever happened between her and Joshua Basset fade away because I can’t let Ursula go. I slide closer and capture her face in between my hands. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her lashes lower. “That’s not true.”

“Sula, look at me.” Sooty fans lift and I’m met with pools of green. “It is. The only people who were wrong were prosecuted.”

Tentatively, she reaches up and touches my cheek. “Thanks to you.”

“Sula...” I begin to lower my head when there’s a commotion at the front door.

We spring apart as if we’ve both been prodded with electricity.

A thump followed by a dragging sound is heard before the door closes. Sula draws her knees to her chest, muttering, “Maid service.”

My words come out snarled due to my erratic breathing after almost kissing my wife for the first time in what feels like forever. “You have got to be kidding me?”

She shakes her head back and forth, refusing to look at me. “They come in every day at the same time.”

“How did I not know this?”

Her head lifts and her face is blank. “This is the first time you’ve been home at this time of day since we’ve lived here.”

I’m not sure if I want to howl at the moon because Sula called it “home” or weep because her next words are, “I need to get dressed. You should do the same. They’ll be here for hours.”

She stands up and uses the remote to lower the television down into the credenza. Just as she’s about to turn away, I snatch her fingers. “How about we go grab brunch and leave them to it?”