“So tell me about this restaurant. Do they throw knives at you? Do you have to pick which plate isn’t poisoned?”
“We actually have a stop to make first. But it’s a secret stop, so you need to wear a blindfold.”
“You and your blindfolds.”
“I got like a twenty pack off Etsy. It was some little old grandma’s sewing shop with a ‘will sew you anything,’ so I asked her for the blindfolds and a suit for Blow-Up Randy. I wanted him to look modest around Waylon back when I was trying to pretend we’re normal parents.”
“Must not have lasted long, I never saw this suit… and why not just put him in your clothes?”
“I don’t know, it just wouldn’t feel natural, Jackson.”
“Does any of this?” he mutters before stilling. “Leland!”
“Yes, husband?”
“Why am I sohot?”
“I… ask myself that every day. How was I given such a sexy man? And no one can answer that question. An enigma indeed.”
“You know what I mean.”
I make sure I avoid eye contact with the heated seat button that he’s jabbing with vigor. “Not sure I do.”
He raises an eyebrow and I just smile at him. “You saw me over here sweltering.”
“I just assumed your body couldn’t handle your natural level of hotness.”
“Ha. Ha.”
I beam at him, pleased with myself. Really, how couldn’t I be?
I hand him the blindfold and like the most willing husband, he pulls it right on. He doesn’t even sigh too much and there are no tears involved. He really is the best trained of my lot. Even after giving him the toastiest of cheeks, he’s still prepared to do it all.
Jackson cocks his head. “I realize that I’m usually not on the receiving end of your blindfolds. I can now understand why all of your friends have a slight look of terror when they’re wearing them.”
“I like it when people don’t know what to expect. I feel like they learn how to love life more then, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t ‘sure’ me,” I say as I pull up outside of our perfect date spot. I shuffle him out and through the door.
“I’m really hoping for more skydiving. Not the real kind! In case I have to clarify that. You’re not putting me on a plane and then kicking me out the door, right?” Jackson asks, sounding a little concerned.
“We’ll do that next week,” I assure him.
“I don’t want to do thatever.”
I lead him through a door and whip off the blindfold as the woman at the counter smiles at us. “Just need you guys to sign these forms.”
“Why is it that all the stuff you want to do requires me to sign a form that says that I won’t sue them if I get hurt, dismembered, or die?” Jackson asks.
“All the best adventures in life come with a waiver.”
“Did marrying you? Because I feel like that was the least safe of them all,” he teases as he signs without reading. I sign as well and she waves to a fancy outfit.
“Please put these on,” she says, handing us what looks like painters’ coveralls.
“Is this like hazmat gear… Leland, what are we doing?”
