Amanda’s brown hair was a mess when she greeted him. Her lipstick stretched past the confines of where her lips ended, and crumbs specked her fitted shirt.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes puffy, watery, and red.
“I thought you could use some company. Or something to get your mind off of her,” he said, lifting two tiny wine bottles up in the air.
Her eyes darted to them, then she stepped aside to make room for him to enter. “Why the hell not?” she asked. “Oh! Sorry. I probably shouldn’t use that word around you.”
“It’s all good. Don’t worry. I know young people use that term to sound cool.”
He walked into the living room and noted another bottle of wine on the coffee table, but no glasses.
“Young people. You don’t seem much older than me. But wait,” she said after closing the door. “How did you find my address?”
“Remember that petition you signed? That info is now in the church’s database. Do you have glasses?” he asked.
“Of course. Just… Just take a seat. I’ll bring some back.”
Something felt a little off.
He grabbed the remote control and lowered the volume a tad. He cringed, glancing at the singer exposing her body in such a shameful manner. She’s spreading evil thoughts. Then he decided to switch the channel to something else. Anything else.
By the time Amanda came back with two wine glasses, he’d settled on a channel that aired classical music while displaying a slideshow of lovely landscapes.
“How have you been?” he asked, accepting the glasses she offered before taking a seat on the couch.
She exhaled loudly, then blinked several times. “To be bluntly honest, I’ve been better. I…” She shook her head, then tears began pouring out of her.
He hesitated, unsure how to react. But then he realized it would be easier for him to cleanse her soul if she first trusted him. So he extended his arm and wrapped her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Tapping her arm gently, he added, “There, there. Let it all out.”
While she cried her little heart out, he analyzed his surroundings. No signs of a roommate, as he had guessed based on her Facebook posts. By the door hung only two jackets, which he’d seen on her before. Three pairs of shoes, all around the same size. No manly presence here. The photos spread around the living room only showed Amanda with some of her friends.
“So, you don’t have anyone here with you to comfort you during this tough time?” he asked, just to double-check.
She pulled herself away from him and he refrained from letting out a sigh of relief.
“No. I…” She rubbed her face. “I’m feeling guilty. I didn’t want to be with other people.”
“Not even your friend David?” he asked, reaching for one of the small bottles he’d brought.
“Why don’t we finish off the bottle I’ve already started?”
He felt his left eye twitch as the first part of his plan got slightly derailed, but knew she was right. He grabbed the other bottle and pulled on the barely re-inserted cork.
“Did you want to talk about her? Or would you like us to pray together?” He poured wine into each of the glasses as he spoke.
She exhaled loudly, then grabbed the bag of chips. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want.”
Anger and impatience spread in his chest like a virus. He didn’t have all day. Twisting thoughts in his mind, he finally settled on something that could get her out of the room so he could resume his plan. “Do you have a photo of you and Lori together?” he asked.
“Yes, in my bedroom.”
“I’d love to see it.”
She paused and frowned at him. “I don’t want to take you to my bedroom.”
“No, that’s not what I meant! Obviously, I’m not that kind of a man.” He placed his hand on the crucifix that hung around his neck. “Could you bring it here?”
Her brows furrowed some more as she tilted her head left and right, then left. Something appeared off with her.
Then she finally nodded and got up. “Be right back,” she said.
Digging into his sleeve, he retrieved the tiny vial and dumped its contents into the glass that was closest to where she’d sat, then he added just a bit more wine to both glasses to mix his cleansing medicine.
She returned just as he put the bottle down.
“What did you do? Did you drink some while I was away, then topped your glass back up?”
He smiled and shook his head, all the while thinking this wasn’t going well at all. “No, I just thought I’d try to finish that bottle off. There was very little left in it,” he said.
“Here you go.” She handed him a small frame that showed the two women wearing fancy red dresses and grinning at the camera.
“When was it taken?”
“High school graduation,” she said, once again digging her hand into the bag of chips. “Want some?” she offered, holding the bag toward him.
“No, thank you. Shall we toast in memory of your friend?” he suggested, grabbing his own glass.
“Or just get wasted and forget all of this ever happened,” she said, reaching for her glass, clinking it against his so suddenly that some of its content splashed into his own glass, then she downed it all in one go.
He didn’t dare drink from his own glass now, but he pretended, bringing the glass up and tilting the glass so its contents barely touched his closed lips.
She brought down her glass so hard it nearly broke, then she grimaced. “Argh! Wine doesn’t go well with salt and vinegar! I need to wash this down with something.” She got up, nearly tumbling over herself and headed to the kitchen.
She came back a minute later, her face pale, holding a tall glass of water.
“I don’t feel so good,” she said, wavering as she made her way back toward him.
He watched her grab ahold of the wall.
“What’s WRROONNG with me?” she yelled.
“Shhh! Quiet! Everything’s good,” he whispered.
“No! I’m NOOOTTT good!”
He prayed that her walls were well insulated, that nobody had heard her, that his medicine would soon kick in and silence her.
And it finally did, just as she crumbled to the floor, her glass shooting out of her grasp and landing in a loud crash, a few feet away on the kitchen floor.
He fumed, annoyed beyond belief.
Then three consecutive bangs echoed from underneath the floor.
“Are you all right?” a man’s muffled voice shouted from below.
He considered his options. Staying was risky. But then again, she was now passed out, she wouldn’t air a peep anymore. If he didn’t act now, he may never have the chance to do it again. She would not let him into her home another time.
Should he clean up his prints? He began wiping the coffee table and thought about bringing the glasses to the sink, then realized there was no time for that.
Plus he hadn’t really done anything that could get him in trouble. Yet. Someone banged on the door.
His fast pulse echoed in his head. He fidgeted, rubbing his thumb and forefinger against each other. He needed to give himself a reason for being here. He knew she’d forget a big chunk of time when she awoke, but he wasn’t sure how much she’d still recall.
Seeing her cellphone on the table, he grabbed it to dial his own number. He had left his phone behind, in case he ever was suspected. He knew that GPS tracking could end his holy mission.
But now, since he hadn’t saved her, he’d just cover his tracks.
The banging on the door repeated. “Amanda! Open up!”
He grabbed his unopened bottles of wine, hid them back into this pants pockets then headed to the door to meet an angry-looking man. The man stood in front of him, his fist up in the air, as though he was about to bang on the door again.