Remember Me?

He reaches into the shopping bag and produces a laminated ring-bound booklet, which he hands to me with a flourish. The front cover is a color photograph of me and Eric in our wedding outfits, and the title reads: Eric and Lexi Gardiner: Marriage Manual.

“You remember the doctor suggested writing down all the details of our life together?” Eric looks proud. “Well, I’ve compiled this booklet for you. Any question you have about our marriage and life together, the answer should be in there.”

I turn the first page, and there’s a frontispiece.

Eric and Lexi

A better marriage for a better world

“We have a mission statement?” I’m slightly stu

“I came up with it just now.” Eric shrugs modestly. “What do you think?”

“It’s great!” I flip through the booklet. There are pages of print, interspersed with headings, photographs, and even some hand-drawn diagrams. I can see sections on holidays, family, laundry, weekends…

“I’ve organized the entries in alphabetical order,” Eric explains. “And indexed them. It should be fairly simple to use.”

I flip to the index and run my eyes down the page at random.

Tomatoes-pp. 5, 23

Tongs-see Barbecue

Tongues-p. 24

Tongues? Immediately I start flipping to page twenty-four.

“Don’t try and read it now.” Eric gently closes the manual. “You need to eat and sleep.”

I’ll look up “tongues” later. When he’s gone.

I finish the rest of the soup and lean back with a contented sigh. “Thank you so much, Eric. That was perfect.”

“It’s no trouble, my darling.” Eric removes the tray and puts it on the dressing table. As he does so, he notices my shoes on the floor. “Lexi!” He flashes me a smile. “Shoes go in your dressing room.”

“Oh,” I say. “Sorry.”

“No problem. There’s a lot to learn.” He comes back over to the bed and reaches into his pocket. “And this is my other gift…” He produces a little jewelry box made of leather.

My head starts prickling in disbelief as I gaze at it. My husband is giving me a present in a posh jewelry box. Just like grown-up people in movies.

“I’d like you to have something you actually remember me giving you,” Eric says with a rueful smile, then nods at the box. “Open it.”

I pry it open-and find a single diamond strung on a gold chain.

“Like it?”

“It’s…it’s amazing!” I stammer. “I love it! Thank you so much!”

Eric reaches over and strokes my hair. “It’s good to have you home, Lexi.”

“It’s good to be home,” I reply with fervor.

Which is almost true. I can’t honestly say this place feels like home yet. But it feels like a really swish five-star hotel, which is even better. I take out the diamond and look at it in awe. Meanwhile Eric is playing idly with a strand of my hair, a tender expression on his face.

“Eric,” I say, a bit shyly. “When we first met, what did you see in me? Why did you fall in love with me?”

A reminiscent smile flickers across Eric’s face.

“I fell in love with you, Lexi,” he says, “because you’re dynamic. You’re efficient. You’re hungry for success, like me. People call us hard, but we’re not. We’re just intensely competitive.”

“Right,” I say after a slight pause.

To be honest, I’ve never thought of myself as that intensely competitive. But then, maybe I am in 2007.

“And I fell in love with your beautiful mouth.” Eric touches my top lip gently. “And your long legs. And the way you swing your briefcase.”

He called me beautiful.

I’m listening, entranced. I want him to go on forever. No one has ever spoken to me like this, in my whole life.

“I’ll leave you now.” He kisses me on the forehead and picks up the tray. “You sleep well. See you in the morning.”

“See you then,” I murmur. “Good night, Eric. And…thank you!”

He closes the door and I’m left alone with my necklace and my marriage manual and my glow of euphoria. I have the dream husband. No, I have the better-than-a-dream husband. He brought me chicken soup and gave me a diamond and fell in love with the way I swing my briefcase.

I must have been Gandhi.

Chapter 8

Flossing-p. 19

Food, see also Daily Meals, Kitchen; Eating Out-p. 20

Foreplay-p. 21

No way. He put in a section on foreplay?

I’ve been flicking through the marriage manual ever since I woke up this morning-and it’s totally, utterly riveting. I feel like I’m spying on my own life. Not to mention Eric’s. I know everything, from where he buys his cuff links to what he thinks of the government to the fact that he checks his scrotum for lumps every month. (Which is a bit more than I bargained for. Did he have to mention his scrotum?)

It’s breakfast time, and we’re both sitting in the kitchen. Eric’s reading the Financial Times, and I was consulting the index to see what I normally eat. But Foreplay looks a whole lot more interesting than Food. Surreptitiously I turn to page twenty-one.

Oh my God. He seriously has written three paragraphs on foreplay! Under General Routine.

“…sweeping, regular motion…normally clockwise direction…gentle stimulation of the i

I splutter on my coffee and Eric looks up.

“All right, darling?” He smiles. “Is the manual helpful? Are you finding everything you need?”

“Yes!” I hastily flick to another section, feeling like a kid looking up rude words in the dictionary. “I was just finding out what I usually have for breakfast.”

“Gia

I suppress a shudder. “I think I’ll give that a miss today.” I take some egg and bacon from the oven and try to quell my longing for three slices of granary toast to go with it.

“Your new car should be delivered later on.” Eric takes a sip of coffee. “The replacement for the one that was damaged. Although I’m guessing you won’t want to drive in a hurry.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” I say helplessly.

“Well, we’ll see. You can’t yet, anyway, until you’ve retaken your driving test.” He wipes his mouth with a linen napkin and gets up. “There was another thing, Lexi. If you don’t mind, I’d like to schedule a small di

“A di

“There’s nothing to worry about.” He puts his hands gently on my shoulders. “Gia

“Of course I’m up to it!” I say quickly. “I’m tired of everyone treating me like I’m an invalid. I feel great!”

“Well, that brings me to another subject. Work.” Eric shrugs on his jacket. “Obviously you’re not up to returning full-time just yet, but Simon was wondering if you’d like to go into the office for a visit. Simon Johnson,” he clarifies. “Do you remember him?”

“Simon Johnson? The managing director?”

“Uh-huh.” Eric nods. “He called here last night. We had a good chat. Nice guy.”

“I didn’t think he’d even heard of me!” I say in disbelief.

“Lexi, you’re an important member of the senior management team,” Eric says patiently. “Of course he’s heard of you.”

“Oh, right. Of course.”

I chew my bacon, trying to look nonchalant-but inside, I want to cheer. This new life of mine gets better and better. I’m an important member of the senior management team! Simon Johnson knows who I am!