“I really hope this doesn’t involve water.”
Josh pulls the top of his shirt open and looks down. “Ah, you put a bra on. That means no wet T-shirt contest for you.”
I slap him and walk away to join Millie at the kitchen island. After pouring myself a cup of coffee, I join her in our zombiefied movements as we suck down the much needed caffeine jolt.
“Newlyweds, please go to the backyard.”
Screw off, Linda.
There’s a loud audible sigh from each of us as the black curtain lifts and bright lights light up the backyard. We line up and wait for the doom that awaits us.
Bronx is the first one at the door, sliding it open for us to step out. Each of us mutters something unintelligible as we take in what’s before us. The backyard has been converted to a neighborhood. There are four houses, each a different style and each with our last names on.
“Good morning, this is your domestication challenge,” Patrick says over the loud speaker. It’s nice to know he has to be up for this as well. “For the past few months, you’ve had it easy and real life is anything but. For the next few days you’ll be competing in the most grueling competition Married Blind has ever done. This is where you’ll live and sleep until one last couple is left standing. Each couple has different scenarios and your only competition is yourself.
“You will follow each challenge until you give up. If you want to call defeat, you’ll both be required to press the red button in the center of the
yard. Newlyweds, please go to your respective houses and get to know your home. Your challenges will be timed.”
Josh takes me by the hand and leads us to what’s going to be our home for this challenge. The outside is white with blue shutters and a white picket fence. Even the mailbox says Wilson. Josh opens the door, turns around, and scoops me into his arms.
“I have to carry you over the threshold.”
On the inside, I’m swooning and dying at little at how freaking sweet he is. On the outside, I’m rolling my eyes and enjoying being carried. I wish it were real though.
Josh sets me down, saying, “Whoa,” as he takes in the house. It’s small, but definitely a home. We enter in through a small foyer with a living room right in front of us. One of the loveseats from the main living room is in here, something I didn’t even notice was missing when I woke up. There’s a small staircase and a hallway that I’m assuming will lead to the kitchen and hopefully a bathroom.
“Well, we should get to know the house, right?” I say as I start to walk down the hall. There’s a kitchen with one small counter, a tiny fridge, and a two-burner oven. For seating, there are two barstools pushed under a small counter lip. Josh stands behind me as I open the cabinets. We have two of everything as far as dishes go, but only one frying and saucepan.
“I think when they did our house they forgot about your career.”
“You ain’t shitting. I’m almost afraid to see what’s upstairs.”
Hopefully a bathroom since there isn’t one downstairs. I follow Josh as he climbs up, having to duck until the staircase opens up. The bathroom has a single shower with no tub and two bedrooms off the side. The “master” bedroom is small with a queen size mattress and box spring leaving barely enough room to get by.
“My apartment is bigger than this.”
My response wants to be, “Can’t wait to see it,” but I know that’s never going to happen so I just nod like I already know what it looks like. The apartment Tony and I had leased for after our wedding was bigger than this.
We move down the hall to the second bedroom, but find the door locked. “Great, our house is haunted,” I say, causing him to laugh.
The doorbell rings and even though this is a show, we’re both excited and go rushing down the steps. Josh opens the door as I peer over his shoulder. There’s a big box with a letter taped to the front. He pulls the letter off and reads it.
“Congratulations, Joshua and Joey. Inside, you’ll find your lifestyle and job details. Welcome to reality.”
Josh and I look at each other questioningly before he picks the box up and carries it inside. We tear it open like its Christmas until we see what’s inside.
“What the—”
“Fuck?” Josh says, finishing my sentence because in the box is not only a baby, but a fat suit … a pregnant fat suit.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Babe, I’m saying this now so you can never hold it against me. I’m sorry.”
I glare at him. This is worse than having a flour baby with Keith “the stink” Finkly in high school.
“Joshua and Joey, congratulations on the recent birth of your daughter. One of your first challenges is giving her name. Congratulations are also in order for the announcement that you’re expecting twins.”