MADRIGAL

PART 1 - MADRIGAL

            A razor, some pills, and her gun. These were the choices before her. Jane looked at the three, considering which would be most effective: perhaps the combination of two or more. The pills were prescribed to help her sleep, but if used with the razor, they could slow blood loss. She had been a police officer long enough to know of attempts that were unsuccessful due to poor planning, failure of will, or fate, and she wished to avoid the mistakes of others.

No one knew her thoughts. She had never mentioned anything to the psychiatrist, telling him that she felt better and that her mind seemed clearer, which was true. Even since she had come to this decision, a calming serenity had settled within. The clarity she achieved was such that it bottled all her anguish within, but that feeling was ever present. She feared the slightest deviation from her current course would cause her to falter and release the pain anew. For the first time in a long while, Jane felt she could breathe, and though the sadness would never leave, at least she had some measure of peace.

The only trepidation she felt was for Sylvia, her chocolate Persian she had nicknamed Silly. Silly had been abandoned at the pound twice before, and though skittish in the beginning, she had become a furry satellite that rotated around and between Jane's feet on a constant basis, tripping Jane daily as she walked. Silly was the one that wouldn't understand. The note would be of no help. All she would know is that her mommy was gone and she would not know why.

Yesterday, Jane had placed Silly in the cat carrier. Silly had cried, and Jane had, too. The only time Silly went into the carrier was when she was shipped away somewhere, or when they went to the vet, where she would have to endure numerous pokes and prods. Their apartment was the kingdom where Silly was queen, but soon a dozen strangers would be stomping through her domain, making noise and leaving the door open. It would be terrifying and traumatic, and there would be no guarantees as to what would happen to her after Jane was gone.

Jane loaded Silly into her car's passenger seat and packed Silly's dishes, food, toys, litter box, and bed into a bag that ended in the back. Jane had told her mother that she was taking a vacation and that it would be better if Silly stayed with someone familiar instead of a stranger roaming around Silly's home. Her mother asked where she was going. Jane said, the Bahamas. Her mother said, that was good, that Jane needed some time to rest. The entire trip to her mother's house, Jane kept her right-hand fingers between the bars on the carrier's door. Silly rubbed against Jane's fingers and tried to claw herself free, mewing the whole way for her mommy to stop. This was the closest Jane had come to changing her mind.

She looked around her living room one final time. From the couch, everything seemed in order. She had spent the last two days cleaning to make sure everything was as pristine as possible, even emptying the refrigerator of old takeout, expired yogurts, and various fruits bruised and wrinkled beyond their prime. She dusted her shelves of classic novels and short stories, reminding herself of some of the titles she'd forgotten she owned, before doing the same with her CD and record collection. She had spent a good portion of her day scrubbing the sink, toilet, and bathtub, and there was still the trace of lemon-scented bleach in the air. Her police uniform lay in the dry cleaner bag on the bed next to her dark blue dress suit. She liked that suit and it fit her well, but it was only left out as a suggestion, not as a statement of a final wish. Her mother was more of the style maven, and Jane was sure she'd find something tasteful and appropriate. A copy of her note explaining things sat on Jane's printer and she had saved the document on her hard drive in a folder labeled IMPORTANT. Everything was set; everything was good.

The bathroom drew Jane's attention again. She hadn't eaten much today, just some bread and a few glasses of wine. This was due in part to a call to which Jane had once responded. A woman had swallowed a bottle of sedatives and spent a half hour vomiting in her bedroom. Jane remembered the beauty of the dress, the idyllic scene that had been arranged, and the mess and the shame that the woman would have had to face when she returned home.