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I meant to help Tom. But my feet come up with another plan without saying so. I can’t see my hand in front of my face, but I do my best to search the small area. I’m like a blind person trying to find the light. Just when I’m about to lose hope, my foot finds it first. A rock big enough to do the job. It’s larger than I would have liked, but I guess beggars can’t be choosy. It barely fits in the palm of my hand. “Tom?”
“Over here,” he says. I can hear him; he’s trying to drag himself up onto the ledge. He doesn’t yet realize I’ve gone somewhere too dark for him to follow. It’s steep, and he’s injured. “Stay there,” I call out to him. Everyone knows water washes away sin.
“Let me help you,” I offer. My voice reverberates in my ears. It smells like a mixture of death and fuel. It smells like plastic burning. Like faint rotten eggs. If I crane my neck far enough I can just barely see what’s left of the boat around the way. It burns bright orange. But not bright enough to provide any real light from where I stand. I cough, trying to clear my thr
oat. The smoke feels thick and heavy in my lungs. It feels like it’s everywhere. Tom’s labored breathing and the water hitting the rocks has a calming effect.
He grunts. I feel the weight of the rock in my hand. I bring it over my head. With everything I have in me, I bring it down onto my husband’s skull. I do not want him to suffer because I am weak. I put my back into it, as they say.
“Say hello to June for me.”
I lift again and bring it down. It’s like one of those lever things at the carnival when you’re trying to win a teddy bear. But I’m only trying to win my freedom.
“You should have loved me.”
I bring the rock down again.
I feel it collide with bone.
Tom makes a noise. Like static on the radio. I don’t know how long these things take. My arms feel like jelly.
I lift the rock as high as I can.
I bring it down again.
Tom sounds like he is gurgling. Like a fish tank on recycle.
Row, row, row your boat.
I bring the rock down. I don’t like that sound.
Gently down the stream.
I bring the rock down. I have to make it stop.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.
I lift higher.
Life is but a dream.
I push Tom’s lifeless body into the water and then I swim and I swim. I swim until I find flat land, just like Tom said we would do. Then I walk. I walk and I walk. I let my clothes dry out. I have to get home before someone finds the wreckage. I know that if I walk the road along the lake I will eventually come to Beth and Mark’s gate. I just hadn’t realized how far I would have to go. It feels like a pilgrimage to my future.
Beth’s shoes are slightly too big and wet; I hardly manage to keep them on. Finally, when I’m worried daylight might break before I find their property, I do. I must have walked six miles at least.
All the way, I thanked God, or the devil, or the Easter Bunny, that my live stream was silent. I think about what I will tell my followers. Whatever I come up with, I know it will be good. They say everything happens for a reason.
I kick off Beth’s shoes and climb the steps that lead from the dock up to the house. A motion-sensored light flashes on, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I remember Beth saying she’d turned the security cameras off. I plan to double-check that she wasn’t wrong. Beth is a liar, or rather, was a liar. Just thinking of it now, thinking of her in past tense makes me smile.
The back door is unlocked, just as it was when we left. That’s the funny thing about the wealthy. They never think anything bad is going to happen to them. I’ll never be like that. Letting your guard down is a fool’s game.
The lights are still on in the living area, but I don’t bother turning on more. I can see blood has stained Beth’s shoes; I guess water doesn’t wash everything away. I can’t set them down just yet, so I’m forced to carry them around like the bad reminder they are.
The first thing I do is check the security system, which I am relieved to find has indeed been turned off. So trusting. So stupid.
In the kitchen I roll out a thick layer of paper towels and set the shoes on them. Under the sink, I find a pair of rubber gloves, which I bet Beth never touched in her life. They’re coming with me. I scrub the wine glasses, and then, bit-by-bit, I work to erase any trace that I was here. I still feel buzzed to see how everything is coming together. Not exactly how I planned, but better.
I smell like Tom’s blood. Musky and metallic. This must be what freedom and money smell like when you put them together. Just an hour ago, I was someone’s wife. Just an hour ago, I was nearly a drowning victim. Now, I’m a widow. A soon to be rich widow. I’ll never know why they didn’t drown me on that dock, or more simply, just blow my brains out. I’ll never know why they chose a joyride in the dark instead. Tom always said you can’t explain illogical acts with reason. I chose well with him. It’s funny how things work out in the end. I’m glad he was such a cheapskate. More for me now. The long game, I think it’s called. I really shouldn’t forget. All that worry, and over what? I make a mental note for next time.
