Repressed (Wattys 2014 Winner)

Chapter 37

I hid the envelope under my dress and tucked the corners into my bra and underwear, making sure to smoothen out any poky ridges. I put the key into the lock and turned, I opened it softly in order to hear whether anyone was speaking. Nobody was. The house was dead silent.

And pitch dark.

I switched on the lights and peered over the corner. The bedroom door was ajar. That was strange. I’m pretty sure, I had closed it when I left. I carefully unzipped my gladiator heels and put it on the couch. I flexed my ankles and legs and softly padded into the bedroom. Adrian’s clothes was strewn across the bed. He was here.

I ran towards my underwear drawer and stuffed the manila envelope inside it before anybody could see. I covered it with my underwear, keeping it effectively hidden, yet revealing enough, for me. I checked the bathroom, but he wasn’t there either.

His bags were on the floor, but I guess he must have momentarily gone out. There was no dinner at home. Maybe he had gone to get that. But, Adrian wouldn’t. He didn’t know how to order from outside for shit. Another question came to my mind- how was I going to knock him out? Knock him out so that I could escape and he, he would not even hear? How?

Sleeping pills

I smiled to myself. Adrian used to suffer from anxiety attacks. He didn’t, now. But, I’m pretty sure, he kept few around just in case. I went back to the bathroom and checked the cabinet. I was right. He had a new refilled pack. I took out two and put it firmly in my hand, hiding it in the contours of my palm.

I decided to make dinner. I would crush the pills and put it in his drink, and some in his food. It would be perfect. The sleeping pills Adrian used to take were enough to knock out a horse. On a grown male, I wondered what it, truly could do.

Walking to the kitchen, my smile grew. That old conniving Milania is back. World watch out!

I took out some chicken breasts, potatoes, chocolate, flour and some other things. I decided to make a garden salad with chicken tikka and chocolate soufflé. Chicken tikka was Adrian’s favourite Indian food. He could eat it every day, and not get tired of it. The utility he derived from that, was unmeasurable. 

I cleaned the chicken and took some yogurt and spices from the pantry. I cut the chicken into strips and kept it on the chopping board. I took the yogurt and put the spices inside, mixing it properly. I would garnish his tikka with the crushed sleeping pills. I wouldn’t mix it into this. Once the marinade was done, I put the chicken inside and set it aside. I cut up the lettuce and other greens for the salad. I knew that vinaigrette was his favourite dressing and I decided to make some. Instead of salt, I mixed the pills with it. He knew my extreme hatred for the dressing and he wouldn’t force me to eat it.

The chocolate soufflé was done in a rush, I knew the ingredients and the method to prepare it, like the lines on my palm.  It was easy. So easy.

Once the soufflé’s were out of the oven, I popped the chicken strips on the grill and began to toss it around when I heard his voice ring out, “Milania?”

The sizzling of the chicken and the smell that wafted to my nose was beautiful. Indian food was beautiful. So aromatic and gorgeous. I heard the clicking and clacking of the heels of his soles as he walked into the kitchen. His black hair stuck to his forehead and some were spiked out at odd angles. His blue eyes were tired.

He came towards me, cupping my cheek, he breathed me in and mumbled, “I’ve missed you.”

I said the same back, “I missed you too. I made dinner. Tikka, your favourite, with soufflé.”

He groaned, “This is what I am talking about woman. Wow. Should I change and take a seat?” I nodded, “Wear your clothes, I’ll get the food. It’s almost done, anyways.”

He smiled and then frowned, “You shouldn’t have done what you did in the office. That was no way of going about it.”

I exhaled, “Adrian, just go and sit down. We’ll take about this in bed, okay? Let’s eat dinner in peace, for fuck’s sake.”

He slammed his hand on the kitchen island, “Fine.” And then pouted. I snorted as I began to plate up.

I put his salad on a plate and drizzled the vinaigrette generously. I put his tikka on the side and put some of the crushed powder in it. Then, I grabbed a glass and poured some white wine and put the pills there too.

Thank God for the huge pill size!

I exited the kitchen with his plate and glass and put it in front of him.

“My lord, here is supper.” I said, mimicking a posh British accent. I curtseyed in front of him, as I put the plate on the table. He arched his eyebrows and smirked, “Mi’lady, thank you for your, generous offering. I am sure, it will please my palate.” I almost snorted with laughter, it sure is generous.

“Then, good sir, do me the honour by tasting all of what is on your plate and giving me a good report of how pleased your palate is. And please drink your wine.” I winked at him. He smiled as he drank the entire contents of his glass in one long gulp. He cut the tikka, placed it on a lettuce and ate it, never breaking contact with my eyes.

Adrian didn’t realize how easy he had made my task. I smiled sweetly at him, biting my lips tantalizingly. I went to the kitchen to get my share of food, and went back to him with a refill of wine.

“Drink up,” I ordered. I took a Diet Coke from the bar fridge and popped it open, taking a long drink.

‘With pleasure,” Adrian replied and drank that down too, “Why are you being so nice to me?” Adrian asked with a lopsided smile.

“Can’t I treat you well for one day?” I replied.

“What do you want from me, Milla?” He asked as he pushed back in his chair.

“Nothing babe, nothing.” I said.

“Milania, why is the room moving?” Adrian asked me, blinking his eyes rapidly.

Bingo bitch!