We Only Speak in a Language My Husband Doesn't Know
French from college. He's fluent. My husband thinks we're discussing wine regions at dinner parties.
At dinner I discuss Bordeaux with Greg. In French I tell Luc what I want to do in the car home.
Greg smiles, lost. Luc answers with subjunctives that make my knees weak.
We are polite monsters. Bilingual adultery feels intellectual until it's not.
Greg wants French lessons now. I said I'm rusty.
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