A Little, Black Book

Liza

We've been married for twelve years. Truth be told, I myself have forgotten some of our anniversaries, but it wasn't on purpose. As a neurosurgeon, many things leave my focus for work. 

Of course, that isn't to say I don't love my husband. Hell, I obsess over him. The first day I laid eyes upon him was the day I realized love at first sight did exist. 

With his perfectly sculpted body and a razor sharp chin line, he was a sight to behold. Any woman wanted him and any man wanted to be him, so says the old cliche. I just happened to be the one who won him over. Or so I thought.

Lately, he hasn't been paying much attention to me. I thought it was because of my constant absence at home due to work, but it was something much more than that. Something... covetous.

It all started about a year ago. I came back home from work one night and my husband was already asleep. He always looks so peaceful when he slept. Like a dormant Adonis, his body was calm as he breathed in his sleep. Perfect as always.

That is, until I heard him whisper something. A name. "Liza..." 

I stared down at him with empty eyes. Liza. THAT NAME. LIZA. At that moment, he ceased to be my husband for a split second. How dare he mutter any other woman's name except mine? The audacity he had!

I realized then that he was just dreaming. I completely understand if he was just dreaming, but what if he was having an affair? Even the thought shot a galvanized arrow through my heart. 

I didn't ask him about it and simply let it rest. That was my first mistake.

Later on in the year it happened again. I decided to go through his personal belongings and what I feared came to light. In his wallet was a picture of a young girl. Red hair, green eyes, and skin so fair, it put any goddess to shame. I was devastated. 

I decided not to confront him about it. What if he thought I was crazy or got mad at me for going through his stuff? This didn't bode well.

People at work told me that he loved me as much as I did. They're fools. If they had lovers of their own, they'd know. It seemed as if no one was on my side.

The weirdest part of this was that my husband was so open about it. At the Christmas party held in the hospital where I worked, he brought Liza along. The sheer disrespect that transpired through the night would stay with me for the rest of my life. No one paid me attention as they all gawked and praised her, just for her looks! It irked me so much. 

The final nerve snapped a few days ago. I had just come home from work, hoping to spend some time with my husband. I walked into our bedroom and found the most horrific sight I could imagine. Liza was sleeping in the same bed with him.

Sound asleep, I looked over them both with empty eyes. There was no excuse to bring another girl into OUR bed. It was unforgivable. With my hand placed firmly on her neck, it snapped as easy as a twig.

The funeral service for Liza was one of despair and deep mourning. Everyone said good things about her. Even my husband didn't hide his emotions. His tears hit her beautiful face as he leaned over her coffin. 

Of course, I cried with him as well. Not tears of sorrow, but of joy. Liza could never have him ever again. 

And I mean, sure. What kind of mother wouldn't cry at her own daughter's funeral?