“Jessica wants to go to Italy for vacation,” I tell my friend Mary. “Italy?” “I know. Maybe I can talk her into Key West or something.” “You would love Italy. Italians are brusque but friendly.” “Um, okay,” I say. Then: “Oh. You mean like me.” “Exactly. You will fit right in.” “Except I don’t speak…

Jessica is running her finger along the spines of the travel books on the shelf at the bookstore. “Hong Kong,” she reads. “We are not going to Hong Kong.” “Nope.” “Indonesia. Not there, either.” “Nope.” “Italy.” She smiles, and starts lifting books off the shelf and loading them into my arms. “We don’t need all…

Jessica is hanging over my left shoulder. “Are you buying the tickets?” she asks. “The airline tickets to Italy.” “Mmm,” I say, not quite clicking “buy now.” I have checked the bank balance, and I have checked the dates, but the idea of dealing with luggage and trains and Jessica and I don’t speak the…

There was a time in my life when I was allowed to have some personal dignity. That time ended the day I went into labor and people started wandering into the delivery room and feeling me up with impunity. So Jessica and I are waiting for one of those damned D.C. subways, and it arrives,…

We are getting on the plane to go home, our long weekend in DC over. Security is less obnoxious here than in Kansas City, and I suppose that’s because no one really expects the terrorists to head for the heartland. Jessica is being unusually attentive to me this morning. She got up when the alarm…