How to Cope With the Revelation That Your Wife is a Former Magical Girl

A short story by Selene Grande

This story contains: her and her, contemporary romance, madly in love, couple, cunnilingus, fantasy

I

Sadie breathed and stretched, her hips and shoulders sore from the lumpy guest room mattress. Her skin carried the scent of the hastily laid sheets: linen closet and stale lavender sachets. She traipsed toward the kitchen, following the smell of ground coffee. If she kept her eyes closed, she could imagine it was a normal morning.

Alex waited at the table, head down as she tapped her fingers against her phone screen. Her eyes darted toward the doorway where Sadie stood.

Sadie decided she would be the bigger person today. She would shove down the betrayal and pretend everything was fine. Alex had spoken the truth into the world, and Sadie would do the right thing and forgive her. She wanted to forgive her. It was what a good partner was supposed to do.

But Sadie’s insides twisted with anger. Was this the only lie, seeping under the surface of their marriage like deadly mold? Or were there more, waiting for excavation? She looked away and out the window over the kitchen sink, hoping Alex missed the disgust that twisted her mouth. 

“Did you make breakfast?” Sadie asked, the words stumbling from her lips.

“Cinnamon toast,” Alex said. She glided a bright orange Fiestaware plate toward Sadie. The bread was cut into triangles, sparkling with sugar crystals and butter–Sadie’s comfort food. Alex knew Sadie’s comfort food.

Her partner stood, and the chair made a horrible squeak against the linoleum. She winced and muttered an apology.

“It’s fine,” Sadie said and sat down. She felt like a stranger, seated in her own chair. The furniture was part of a set she had inherited from a great aunt. She traced the line where the tabletop separated for a leaf that had been lost in a move years ago—Alex and Sadie had survived two together, first to their shared apartment and then to this house, the ranch-with-a-cute-yard. Their things had evolved with them. Hand-me-down furniture, new dishes, plastic cups for their daughter. Their home was an eclectic mix of memories and anticipation polluted by the revelation of Alex’s past.

Her wife was taking a very long time to prepare a mug of coffee. Sadie almost stood to get it herself, but their phones pinged at the same time. A text from her mom. Their daughter Nyla was enjoying breakfast with her grandparents’ cats. In the photo, Nyla grinned with lips stained purple from blueberry pancakes. An orange and white tabby peeked its head beside her, eyeing the bacon on Nyla’s plate.

Alex set a mug in front of her. Sadie took a sip and put on what she hoped was a grateful smile. The coffee was pale and weak. Toast was the extent of Alex’s talent in the kitchen.

“Thank you,” Sadie said.

Alex nodded and sat back down. 

Sadie unlocked her phone again and swiped to another screen. News alerts. Another unmasked heroine and the demands that she face accountability. How long until Sadie would see Alex’s face on the screen? How long until their entire life would be upended? Sadie looked up. Alex was watching her. For as long as they’d been together, subtlety was not one of her strengths. Ironic, considering.

Sadie smiled. Too much teeth. Why was this so hard? 

When Alex suggested sending Nyla to her grandmother’s house for the weekend, Sadie thought her wife was planning something nice. But when she saw the grave frown on Alex’s face during the ride home, she steeled herself for the worst-case scenario—a work relationship that had gone too far, a misstep, months of counseling. The paths forward split and winded in her mind. Not one of those had included a secret identity.

“Would you have told me if there were no unmaskings?” Sadie asked. She heard her own voice loud and sharp. She didn’t mean it to be an accusation. Did she? 

Alex breathed in slowly and breathed out. “I know you want me to say yes,” she said. “But I don’t know.”

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