Our bed.
It's low to the ground, so my knees are high enough to lean on with my elbows, head resting in my sweaty palms.
I know the plan.
I've had long enough to think about it. I know it will kill you. That's the reason. Would I sacrifice this much if I didn't know what it would do to you? To us?
It's one of those dark nights, where the clouds have disappeared, but the moon and stars seemed to have been dimmed, so the only light shining through the upstairs window of the house is the orange streetlight across the road. It casts a strange glow on the wooden floors that are icy against my bare feet. I know you'll be home soon. You have night school. Learning how to speak Portugese. When you told me you had signed up, I wondered why on earth you would need to speak Portugese. You don't. You thought I would let it slide. I knew you had been restless, I was the one who suggested a night class. But Portugese? Really now, you could have picked something like a cooking class. For Italian, Mexican, Spanish food or something. But I suppose then you couldn't give me evidence. At least this way you have two hours every week away from me. With my brother.
Oh yes, I know. Of course I know. You think I don't notice his car at the end of the street? You think I don't hear your door slam and you hurry up the pavement? You tell me it's a friend you go with, someone you met in class who lives down the road. To your face, I smile, and swallow the weak lies you feed me. When you're gone, I think. I wait. At first I was mortified. My brother? I thought of how much I loved you. Love you. Because guess what sweetheart? I still do. And for the past two months and one week, my heart has been bleeding for you. Because of you. I know it's drawing to a close. But you don't know how it will end. You don't know I know. I've made it that way. The element of surprise.
The car door slams.
I pull on shoes and a jacket.
Your high heels clatter up the street.
See, the downfall of living in such a quiet neighbourhood is I can hear everything. It's almost like you want me to hear you. But now you're rounding the little corner to the pathway. You pass the letterbox and I head downstairs. As your hand reaches the doorhandle, I pull it open. Here we go. The plan is in action. There's no stopping me now.
Before you have a chance to even speak, I take your hand in mine, the way we used to do when we were only dating, and walk us towards your car. “Let's go for a drive,” I say, calmly.
Your eyes widen. You glance around nervously, and wipe your lips in such a nonchalant manner I almost believe you. I open the door for you, and close it. I want to slam it, punch it, slump over it with the window down, begging for you to end it with him so we can go back to normal, but I don't. I close it quietly, and walk around to my side. As I reverse down the driveway, I turn off the radio. You look terrified.
“How was your class tonight baby?”
“Good, thanks. How was work today?”
“It was good.”
“Where are we going?”
I don't answer. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel. There's no turning back tonight.
As we hit the freeway, my speed increases. The dial shoots up, just over the speed limit. Not too high, there is a degree of care in this.
The bend is coming up. I turn to my wife.
“Kiss me.” One last time.
She obeys, and I force into our goodbye the urgency and passion I have coursing through my veins. It's not something new, this act of love, but originality has never been my strong point. The click of my seat belt echoes as the car swings around the bend. The tree is where it should be- right in front of my car. The angle is a little off, but close enough. The crunch of metal and shattering of glass is all I can hear, though I register that she is screaming. It's taking so long. The slow motion is making the sensation lag, the anticipation is making my nerves scream. I feel my legs shatter like the glass and the pain is a brilliant red that seeps instantly through my jeans. We are flying, soaring over the cliff and I say my goodbyes in my head.
The car tumbles down the steep hill, tossing us about like salad leaves. The top half of my body is flung about, my legs stuck in a wad of twisted metal. Her seat belt holds her in place, and I close my eyes, knowing she is safe enough. As we roll, the car, now a lump of destroyed metal, the roof on my side caves in and it's over as my body is crushed.
Now you can walk hand in hand with him.
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