"I finally did it Margret! I finally killed my husband."
I nearly spat out my fast food coffee as I stared at my friend of forty years. We had not talked in years as each of us had started our own families, had children, and later grandchildren. We had drifted in and out of contact over these years. Our annual graduating class reunion was the only time we ever saw each other. Other than that contact was obsolete. She had reached out to me last week asking to meet. Never in my sixty years of life did I ever think those word would have come out of Joan's mouth.
"You what?!" I hissed as I clutched my coffee.
"I killed my husband." She said matter-of-factly.
I quickly looked around at the faces around our table. No one in the restaurant seemed to have heard her statement. I locked eyes with a blonde haired girl who stared at me from across the dining area. Her eyes quickly fell down to her half eaten fries in front of her. I returned my gaze to Joan.
"Joan, you can't invite me to a public place where people can hear you."
"But why not?" A smile creeped up on her face. "I haven't felt this alive in years."
"Because, not only is it wrong you killed your spouse, but you have now roped me into this!"
"Oh hush you old bag. We did much worse when we were in school." Joan said stabbing her salad.
I remember walking into this fast food establishment excited to rekindle our lost friendship. However, this latest development may have just shattered our threads of friendship.
"We didn't kill any one!"
"It would have come to pass if you had kept on seeing that shady thing you called a boyfriend." Joan said.
"Robert was not shady, his friends were."
"There you go again. Defending him. At least you married off right." She stabbed another forkful of lettuce and chicken. "I wish I had done the same."
"Had done the same? How could you say that! Your husband John was a better man than Michael could ever hope to be."
"Late husband." Joan responded coolly.
"Damn it Joan, why did you do it."
"I don't know really. The late nights at the Senior center. The strange calls he got throughout the day. Missing retirement money. The foot prints on his windshield that he was to blind to see... Take your pick."
"Why didn't you get a divorce? Killing him should have never been your solution." I said.
"Because the bastard had it coming. The amount of times this has happened there was no way he was even being faithful to just one girl. It was going to happen sooner or later."
I stared at my half eaten salad. My stomach was doing knots.
"When did you do this?"
"Killed him? Oh over a month ago. The bastard is long dead and buried and I have a lovely life insurance check sitting in my back account." Joan practically squealed.
"What?! How did you get away with it?"
"Very easily. Robert loves to have a scotch or two in front of the TV before bed. He has those sleeping pills the doctor gave him so his back doesn't hurt in the morning from fitful sleeping. So I blended his pills before he got home from the 'Senior Center' and when he called for his drink I just mixed in the dust and waited. It wasn't very long before the pills hit him. I remember standing by his chair and his eyes found me. They knew what I had done and why I had. There was no remorse as the light left his eyes. Just like they had done when we got married."
I sat shocked to the bone. There was so much I wanted to say but Joan had cornered me in a public place where there would be no room to cause the scene I desperately wanted to create to wake up from this nightmare.
"Joan..."
"Don't looked so surprised Margret. You knew something was going on with Robert and I was to deaf to hear you. But honey I got some hearing aids and I heard you loud and clear."
I sat in the loud dining area. A kid was screaming her head off in the play area. I was having a hard time concentrating on realness of the situation.
"How did you not go to prison?"
"Oh I pulled the troubled husband card. You should read the paper more."
She obliged me by pulling out the newspaper from her town. The paper had already been folded to show the headline four pages in: 'Wife Finds Husband Dead the Morning After Suicide.'
"You faked his death as a suicide attempt?"
"Yes. You would not believe how easy it was. Pills were in his hand already. The hardest part was falling asleep with the TV on." Joan said sourly.
"I see." I said not sure of this day anymore.
Joan and I talked for a few more minutes on the subject before switching to children and the grand kids before finally ending on the shopping trip to Paris she was going to take with her dead husband's money.
I left the fast food chain in a fog. The drive home became a blur as the event of the day crashed on me with and unfamiliar feeling. I felt like an observer trapped in the skull of a human. I almost drove by my house as I did not recognize it. I parked the car in the garage of my home. I noticed Michael's car wasn't home yet.
I made my way to the bathroom ready to be done with the mask I had made for my outing with Joan. With a wet cloth the neutral mask fell away to reveal black and blue dots under my skin. I winced as the pressure of the cloth around my eye was too much for the blue green skin. These clothes need to go as well. I could feel the starchy fabric pressing into the bruises dotting my skin like a Dalmatian. Dressed in my fluffy baby pink robe I made my way to the kitchen. Michael would want dinner when he got home.
Michael walked in as soon as I had placed the meal on the table.
"What did you do today?" I asked as I sat down.
"Went to the Senior Center." He responded.
"Oh? What did you do?"
Michael seemed to fumble for words.
"Uh they have a computer class over there. They teach you how to use them. You know how I am when it comes to technology." He finally said.
"Yes I do."
A long pause filled the room as we finish our meals.
"Do you still take those sleeping pills the doctor gave you?" I asked.
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So the inspiration behind this was I was at Chick-fil-a (A popular chicken fast food restaurant in the southeast of the USA) when I saw two elderly women talking at a high top. The lady I named Margret seemed rather intent on her conversation with the other lady I named Joan. Joan seemed very excited with the conversation as she gestured the entire time while Margret sat there holding a coffee almost never talking. I was staring at the two because with Joan's wild hand gestures during the conversion it was hard not to watch. My fiance, who was with me, asked me what I was looking at and I told him I was watching and old lady tell her friend she killed her husband. That's how this story began, hope you enjoyed.
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Short Collection of Short Stories
Short StoryThese are short stories that I plan to write as inspiration comes to me. The short stories in this collection will be based off of what I see in the world mixed with my creativity. I will explain at the end over every chapter/story my inspiration fo...