David covered his face with both hands.
I stared and blinked.
“She ruined it,” he whispered into his palms. “She actually ruined it.”
“Who ruined what?” I asked absentmindedly, still staring.
“The surprise.”
“David, I swear on our mortgage, if you don’t start using full sentences!”
My husband peeked at me through his fingers.
“Ava ruined the surprise,” he said, “not the marriage. I promise. Please breathe.”
“Who ruined what?”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re breathing like one of those whistling kettles.”
I picked up the lipstick. I picked up the sunglasses. I held the wig at arm’s length as if it might bite me.
“Whose is this?”
“Mine.”
“David. God help me!”
“Listen, they’re technically mine. I bought them. Well, I ordered them. They came in a very embarrassing box.”
“Explain this to me properly. Right now.”
“Whose is this?”
He looked at the wig in my hand, then at the lyric sheet inside, then at the sky, as if maybe something supernatural might rescue him.
“Okay,” he said. “Okay. But you have to promise not to laugh until I’m finished.”
I gave him a very mean look and said nothing.
My husband took a breath, the kind he used to take before quarterly tax meetings, and finally met my eyes.
I gave him a very mean look.
“Remember that charity thing at my office?”
I kept staring.
“It’s for the hospital,” David finally blurted, his ears still glowing. “The children’s ward. The office is doing a charity talent show.”
I blinked at him over the open trunk.
“A talent show?”
“The office is doing a charity talent show.”
“My colleagues said if their quiet accountant got up there and performed a certain song, in full costume, they’d triple their pledges.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Triple, Willow. That’s real money for those kids.”
I stared at the platinum wig, then at my husband, then back at the wig.
“So you’ve been rehearsing pop songs?”
“Every night after work,” he groaned.
“That’s real money for those kids.”
“I hid it in the trunk because you tear the house apart looking for birthday presents, and I wanted you and Ava to be surprised at the show. You were supposed to be my guests of honor.”
I started laughing. I couldn’t help it!
“David, I spent all day convinced you had a secret life!”
“I do have a secret life,” my husband said miserably. “It involves sequins.”
“You were supposed to be my guests of honor.”
***
Two weeks later, Ava and I sat in the front row of a packed auditorium, clutching handmade signs.
The lights dimmed. A familiar intro thumped through the speakers. And out walked my reserved, mild-mannered husband in a sparkly dress, oversized sunglasses, and that ridiculous wig!
Ava shrieked with joy!
“Mom, that’s DAD!”
A familiar intro thumped through the speakers.
David owned that stage! Despite hitting every note wrong and every gesture right! The room lost its collective mind! His coworkers were on their feet long before the last chorus!
They tripled the donation before he’d even left the stage!
***
Driving home, Ava declared him the coolest human on Earth. I squeezed David’s hand across the console, still catching my breath from laughing.
The room lost its collective mind!
After three years of waiting for our family, I’d almost let one panicked morning shake it. Love, it turned out, sometimes wore lipstick and a wig, and I’d never trade it for anything!
I’d almost let one panicked morning shake it.
