But it’s bound to have an effect on her, especially at school, where whispers and rumors will run rampant. But apart from the monetary benefit, I’d justify it this way: one, it will make Jessie stronger. Two, high school kids get bored quickly, and within months my death will be old news. Three, this is a rock-star way to die, and since you never know how her age group will react to scandal, she’s just as apt to become famous from it. Maybe she’ll be the next Kardashian.

Of course, that’s if I die, which is worst-case scenario.

While tying the slip knot, I can’t help but think about Nicki, and how things got to this point:

2.

In Retrospect

IN RETROSPECT, I realize Nicki was setting me up from the very first visit. You know how some teenage girls—like Jessie’s friend Holly—are natural flirts? Give these young ones three years to perfect their craft, and by 18 they’re accomplished prick-teasers. From there, a scant few will continue practicing what works, discarding what doesn’t, until they’ve elevated flirting to an art form.

Start there, add fashion sense, personality, and stunning beauty, and you’ll approximate the Nicki Hill I met fifteen months ago. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was a sitting duck, waiting to have my feathers plucked.

For me, it was all about Michael that first day, and I was so excited for him I somehow overlooked or dismissed what I now realize was her concerted effort to win me over. Looking back on our interactions now, it seems so obvious: she hugged me enthusiastically the day we met and hugged me hello and goodbye every time thereafter. These weren’t friendly, innocent side-ways hugs, but full-frontal ones that included pressing her body into mine just enough for me to experience the swell of her breasts, engage with the scent of her cologne, and appreciate her signature move of holding the hug a full second longer than necessary.

Whenever I caught her staring at me she’d widen her eyes as if asking if there’s something I wanted to say. Whenever I spoke she paid rapt attention, making me feel special, important, and interesting.

They say married men fantasize about having affairs with gorgeous women, but the meaningful, lasting affairs require women who shower them with the attention and affection they can no longer get from their wives. Beauty apart, Nicki exuded empathy and the desire to care for others. I saw it in the way she was attentive to Michael, and in the way she gave me total respect and hung on my every word. I saw it in the way she asked Alison about cooking and social graces, and especially in the way she insisted on having in-the-room, behind-the-door alone time with Jessie whenever she came to visit.

From all appearances, Nicki was the perfect woman.

And when she pounced, I never saw it coming.

3.

First Visit

MICHAEL AND NICKI are here for the weekend, their third visit, and I feel like an idiot admitting this, but before they arrived I looked out the window several times hoping to catch sight of her. It’s been a month since I’ve seen her and I wanted to watch her exit the car, see what she’s wearing, wanted to note her expression as she approached the door. At the risk of sounding like a voyeur, I love staring at her when she’s unaware, and enjoy seeing her move through the world even as I try to picture what it would be like to wake up beside her.

Nicki arrived at our doorstep on Michael’s arm late last August, and we sat on the kitchen barstools for a solid hour getting to know her before Alison said, “We thought we’d barbecue tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“I’d love that!” Nicki said.

“Plenty of time for a swim, if you’re interested. Did you bring a suit?”

“I did,” she said, and boy, did she!

Alison saw her first, and abruptly located me in the kitchen and said, “Try not to step on your tongue when you see her.”

“Who?”

She frowned and walked outside, and I couldn’t get out to the patio fast enough. Knowing Alison was eyeing me like a hawk, I didn’t get to leer, but I saw what I needed to see. Jessie saw it too and abruptly announced, “I’m never eating ice cream again!”

That weekend Nicki was the perfect guest. She was up for anything, never lost her smile, insisted on pitching in, and took a genuine interest in our family, learning our hobbies and what each of us considered important in our lives. And she accomplished all this without giving the impression she was sucking up or trying too hard to make a good impression. Though she found a way to give us all quality time, including Michael, she spent more time with Jessie than anyone else, and—crazy as it sounds—we could see Jessie transforming into a better kid hour by hour.

By Saturday night Jessie’s patented eye-rolling, sullen attitude, and snarky comments had vanished. She was sitting up straight, dressing well, carrying herself with poise, talking to us as if she genuinely cared what we were saying.

On Sunday morning Alison was annoyed she had to call the girls to breakfast three times, but when they finally came bounding into the kitchen giggling like eight-year-olds, Nicki announced: “Come see what we’ve done!” They led us up the stairs to Jessie’s room, opened the door, and left us standing with gaping mouths: they’d gotten up at the crack of dawn and spent hours rearranging Jessie’s furniture and cleaning her room from top to bottom.

And it looked like something out of a magazine.

Alison said, “Jessie, my God! Your room didn’t look this good the day we moved in!”

Jessie beamed, but gave credit where credit was due: “It was Nicki’s vision,” she said.

“Well, whatever inspired it,” Alison said, “we’ve got our daughter back.”

And that was just the first weekend!

4.

Breakups, Makeups, and
Special Occasions I LOVE MY son, but watching him and Nicki together I always got the sense they were mismatched, as if she was the parent, and he was the child. Unlike most young lovers, they didn’t appear to be overly sexual. While always attentive, I never saw Nicki initiate the caressing. What I did notice, she seemed to slightly stiffen whenever he put his arm around her or drew her in for a kiss. Michael has never spoken to me about their relationship, but according to Alison, they’d been having problems.

“Like what?” I asked.

“He says she’s moody, cold, and emotionally unavailable.”

“What does that mean: emotionally unavailable?”

“I think it’s his way of saying she’s asexual.”

“A sexual what?”

She gave me a look. “Are you trying to make a joke?”

“Oh. You mean—”

“Michael didn’t say it, but I get the impression she has no interest in sex.”

“That’s awfully hard to believe!”

“It is?” she said. “Why?”

“I just meant—”

“Don’t bother,” she said.