27

The room is silent, as if none of us were breathing. I stare at my wife, incredulous. My mouth has dropped open and I feel the cool air of the room hitting the back of my throat. As for it working, if she is referring to the poison I may or may not have given her, clearly it didn’t. Instead of just watching her waste away, I should have killed her in one big dose. A miscalculation, for sure.

At first, I rather enjoyed the disintegration of my wife, the slow disappearance as she wasted away despite her “clean” diet, healthy lifestyle. Ironic, isn’t it. And, of course, I picked this path because small doses are easier to hide. I never had to worry, though. All of the fancy doctors she consulted, regular and hippie, never did the special urine test for this particular poison. It’s the only way to detect arsenic poisoning and even then, it must be within three days of the dose.

I was finished with Mia, yes, but I didn’t want an abrupt “end.” Gretchen and I had grown so close and, well, the wife felt like the proverbial ball and chain. At the same time, I know that a sudden death is so hard on children. Mommy slipping away slowly is much better on them. The long goodbye, so to speak. I was thinking of the boys, as always. I never had to worry, there was a firm timeline to my plan. Sure it shifted, I’ll admit. But this weekend, this final time together, well, it was precipitated by my need for resources. My dwindling supplies and, of course, my love for my boys. They deserve the finest in life. Their inheritance will assure it. It had to end tonight. But still, I had wanted a romantic final day with my wife, my little Mia. She deserved it, she did. Until this, the best day ever, turned into something else, turned into this.

Until Buck. The bastard. They’re both staring at me. Mia’s mouth is open a bit like she’s trying to speak, trying to think of something to say. But now I have the floor. She asked me a question.

“You never freak me out, Mia, to use your childish phrase. Look at you, sniveling, scrawny, unkempt with mascara streaks down your face. How could you ever think you have any power over me?” I ask.

“Time to sign the papers, Paul,” Buck says. He reaches over to the coffee table and picks up the pen. Shiny and silver, it seems expensive. I wonder who it belongs to. Maybe Mia’s father, maybe Buck. If I sign, I will take it with me, as a reminder of this moment, of the inferno inside me. And of the revenge I’ll extract. It will be a touchstone for revenge.

“And if I don’t?” I ask.

“I’ll press charges. Attempted murder,” Mia says. “We have the proof. Photos of you with the envelope, photos of you pouring the powder into my brandy.”

I think of the kitchen window over the sink. It doesn’t have curtains or a shade. I kick myself for my complacency, for my lack of caution. I never imagined someone could follow me successfully, not without my spotting a tail. Now I realize there was someone watching us at the restaurant, as well. It was probably Buck. That’s who Mia was smiling to through the window. Of course.

“You ended up lacing your wife’s brandy with sugar, sport,” Buck says. He is smiling at me. As if he has won. He has not. He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know anything.

“You followed us tonight, to the restaurant. You bribed the valet, switched my envelope for yours, that’s why it took that punk valet so long to find my car,” I say. I typically figure things out quickly. In this case not quickly enough. They have the evidence, the arsenic. “Well, you’ll have trouble making any of this nonsense stick.”

“You’re denying it, Paul? We have proof. You were trying to kill me.” Clearly, Mia is agitated again. She’s shaking and mucus is running out of her nose.

“Mia, it’s okay, calm down,” Buck says. He doesn’t make a move to comfort her. He knows better. Knows not to turn his back to me right now. He should also know I’ll be back for him later. I will be.

“Sign this. And get out of here.” Buck jabs the pen into my thigh. I take it from him. I imagine stabbing him in the neck. I could do it, too.

So, if I sign this, I realize, I’m agreeing to give up custody of my children. What they don’t realize is I will tell the court I was threatened, forced to sign this agreement against my will. I will not go quietly into the night, not at all.

I pull the cap off the pen. It is a very nice pen, heavy in my hand. I reach for the papers.

“You can read the documents if you’d like, but we’ve explained the contents. This will be a separation, followed by a complete dissolution of your marriage. Like it never even happened. Papers will be filed on your behalf. Sign the agreement where marked,” Buck says. “Here. And here.”

He’s so helpful, good old Buck. But still, I smile and do as I’m told. I scan the words—sole custody, property, rights, dissolution. As I expected, she keeps everything except our home in Columbus. But that’s fine. There is plenty left to liquidate, even with the second mortgage. There is a treasure trove of expensive furniture, antiques and art from her parents. I’ll be fine starting over. And I’m good at this, beginning anew and being patient about revenge. I know there is always more than one way to skin a cat. Now probably is not the time to tell you about my own pet’s premature demise. Tommy was heartbroken. We’ll save that for another time.

I finish with the papers and pen and Buck collects them from the table. I sit back in my chair and watch the show. Without breaking eye contact with me Buck holds the papers in the air in my wife’s direction. He says, “Mia, take a look. Be sure we didn’t miss a signature line.”

I watch Mia reach for the papers. With steady hands she slowly turns each page. She places the document on her thighs. “All signed.” I watch as she swallows. She looks relieved. She’s no longer crying. She looks at me unblinking, unafraid. She places the pen on the coffee table.

For now, she has won and she knows it.

“Time to go, sport. You will check in and stay the night at the inn. Understood?” Buck says. He stands and stares down at me.

“Fine. I’m happy to get out of here. Where did you say you took my stolen belongings?” I ask. I grab the pen and stand. I am eye to eye with Buck, nose to nose.

“The Lakeside Inn. The nice one on the lake. Talk to Scott. He is holding your things behind the front desk for you until you check in,” Buck says.

I take a step back and then turn and walk toward the kitchen. Foolishly, my wife has left the unconsumed snifter of brandy and sugar on the kitchen counter. I start to reach for it as a firm hand yanks my shoulder backward, holding me in place.

“Don’t even think about it. You know as well as I do that even though we allowed you to lace her drink with sugar, it’s still evidence.” Keeping his hand on my shoulder, Buck forces me to the back door, opens it and almost pushes me outside. He tosses my car keys onto the driveway. Rude. These are things I will not forget. Ever. I hear him slam the back door shut behind me and turn the lock in the knob. Like that type of lock could stop anyone from coming inside. He’s dreaming. I roll the heavy pen in my pocket.

I’m tired of both him and my wife. Good riddance. I stand in front of the closed garage door. Surely he will know, if he has been doing good spy work, that I cannot enter my garage through the broken side door, that I must enter by pushing the button inside the kitchen.

Ah yes, he’s watching. I hear the garage door moan, and start to open. I stand with my back to the house, waiting for my chance to escape. Still, as I climb into my car and back out, I see Buck watching me through the kitchen window. I wonder if he’ll sleep there, at my cottage, with my wife, tonight.

I wonder how confident Buck will feel about closing his eyes, now and forever.