Page 13 of Marriage & Mockery

The conversation moved on the way it was supposed to, but the mood stayed wrong. Every time Sally’s name came up, there was a half-second of hesitation that hadn’t been there a week ago. Which I understood because the situation was awkward as hell now that everyone knew my wife had inspired many of her quirks.

But I had to keep running the room because that was the job. I was being paid millions of dollars a season for this show to succeed. I couldn’t walk away without destroying my career.

So I focused on giving notes and making decisions on which cold open to keep. A quick call from the stage manager about a location change for episode seven provided some much-needed distraction.

From the outside, I probably seemed normal. Which only earned me more side-eye from the team. But inside, I was counting the minutes until I could check my phone again without anyone noticing, and hating that the character I’d built out of love was the topic everyone was trying to avoid. Even though it was my own damn fault.

As I left the set to head back to the writers’ room, I pulled my phone from my pocket. The notifications had multiplied, and new headlines sat at the top of my feed.

Bennett Parker’s inspiration comment continues to draw backlash

Viewers dissect which Sally quirks belong to the real-life wife

Awards speech turns personal for comedy showrunner

I kept scrolling even though I knew better. Side-by-side images had started circulating—stills of Charlotte as Sally next to shots of Laina that must have been pulled from old red carpets or charity events. One post lined up three of Sally’s most clipped moments with a caption that made me cringe.

So which ones are real?

The comments underneath were rife with cruel speculation.

A new version of the meme had surfaced too, as a GIF this time. Someone had slowed down the moment the meaning hit her face, then looped it. The caption was simple but vicious—This is what it looks like when the joke is literally on you.

I locked the screen and stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

Twenty-four hours ago, I’d been on a stage holding a statue, convinced I was giving the woman I loved public credit for everything she’d done for me. Now she was being publicly ridiculed. Because of me.

A couple of production assistants walked past, mid-conversation. One of them glanced at me and quickly looked away. I kept walking before I drew any more attention.

By the time I reached the writers’ building again, the only clear thought left was that the show was still moving while the actual cost of the win was refreshing itself every few seconds with another stranger’s opinion about my wife.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of decisions I barely registered. More notes given. Pages approved. A short meeting I sat through without absorbing half of what was said. Every free moment I had, my phone came out of my pocket. But there were no new messages from Laina.

By late afternoon, I was done pretending I could keep performing at full capacity. I left the lot earlier than usual and drove straight to the high school.

Lucy had made the pep squad in August. Practices ran late on Mondays, and Laina usually handled pickup. With how our phone call went this morning, I assumed that it fell to me today. But I sent a quick text using voice-to-text on the way, just to be safe.

Me

Picking Lucy up from school. Let me know if you’d prefer to do it.

I parked near the athletic fields and waited with the engine off. Through the windshield, I could see the squad still running routines on the track. Lucy was easy to spot near the middle of the formation. She looked focused, like the rest of the world hadn’t tilted sideways in the last twenty-four hours.

My phone buzzed with a notification, and this time it was actually from my wife.

Laina

No, it’s good.

When practice finally broke, Lucy walked over with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She climbed into the passenger seat of my G-Wagon without saying anything and buckled in.

“How was it?” I asked.

“Fine.”

We pulled out of the lot in silence. I checked my phone one more time at the first red light. There was nothing more from Laina.

The quiet in the car felt heavier than it had that morning. Lucy stared out the window while I kept both hands on the wheel and tried not to think about how empty the house would feel without Laina in it.