He walked through Desiree’s bedroom one last time and saw her lying peacefully on the bed. Her hair was rumpled across the pillow. Her breasts and an ovary were arranged on her bedside table, beside most of the tissue from her face. Someone had already gotten to the other ovary years before Bob met her, it seemed. Her legs were splayed open, and the soles of her feet were pressed together, near her buttocks. He had taken his time, and treated the dirty whore with the care she deserved. He hated rushing.
He felt a vibration near his right hip. He reached down and noted with surprise that his cell phone was somewhere in his overcoat. Fumbling with a strange pocket he wasn’t sure he’d noticed before, he pulled it out. He was on full alert, as if Brenda might somehow know where he was through the phone. His voice was artificially cheerful, “Hey Sweetie. No, you didn’t disturb me; I’m on my way home right now. No, it’s okay, I’m just wrapping up here at work. You aren’t bothering me at all.”
Bob walked outside, talking quietly. “Say, did you sew a pocket into my overcoat? You did? That’s the sweetest thing, thank you. You’re becoming a regular little seamstress. Be home in a flash. Love you. Bye-bye.”
The kids rushed out the door to catch their various school buses. Bob was surprised to see Brenda come back in the house. She would usually hurry over to the school and sit there out of view, waiting to make sure David got inside safely before driving to work. She denied doing it, but Bob knew better. Bob did not discourage her paranoia. After all, there were a lot of sickos in the world.
But this morning, she was still there after the kids were gone. Bob noted that she was bringing a small armful of dry cleaning in from the minivan.
He drank coffee and read the local paper. There was a short article on the front page about another hooker who had been found murdered downtown. A redhead. She’d been dead a couple of days. No other details were released. Bob turned to the sports section.
“Honey?”
“Yes, Dear?” Bob set his paper aside and looked at his wife. Her brown hair was pulled back and she was wearing one of the dark blue and black dress suits that she wore when she was trying to hide her weight. She held her overcoat across her arm, stroking it absently as if she were on her way out the door. Her freckles were obvious this morning, despite the fact that she had actually used a little makeup today to cover them. Bob recalled her saying something about her boss having a presentation that she was helping with.
I’ll have to call and offer encouragement later this morning.
“Are we… are we okay?” she asked.
“What do you mean? Of course we’re okay.” Bob was genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
There was a long pause as Brenda looked around, “It’s just that… I mean… I worry that we don’t do things together anymore.”
“What do you mean, Dear?”
Where is she getting this?
“Well, you’ve been staying out late a lot and coming home smelling like you’ve been in bars. And… well… I don’t have to tell you how long it’s been since we’ve made love.” The last bit was almost mumbled, but Brenda had momentum going and didn’t want to stop, “Bob-is there another woman?” she blurted out fearfully.
“No, of course not.” Bob said almost laughingly but without a trace of mockery.
“Well, it’s just that… well… sometimes I can smell the perfume, I think.”
“Dear, there’s no other woman,” Bob said dismissively and convincingly.
She offered him a weak smile. “I hate to say anything. It’s just that you’ve been so different these past few months. I mean, you’re more thoughtful, more… and you don’t even peek at other women when we’re out anymore, which is actually kind of nice, but…”
Bob shifted a bit uncomfortably at that. He felt like a kid who finally realized that his mother always kept a count of how many cookies were in the jar.
“But at the same time, we haven’t had… sex… for almost four months.” She ran through the speech quickly, with rehearsed speed, and kept going. “Cosmo says that these are signs that a husband is cheating.”
Smiling a bit, Bob repeated, “Dear, I haven’t had any kind of sex with any woman but you since we started dating. I’m sorry if I ever looked at another woman. The sight of most other women makes me ill compared to you, Dear, and I am grateful that your face is the one I wake up to in the mornings.” Bob’s words rang with surprising sincerity.
Relieved, but a bit unprepared, Brenda pressed an issue. “Where have you been going at night?”
Chuckling, Bob said, “I’ve been hanging out in bars and patrolling street corners finding hookers and eviscerating them for my sick pleasure, Dear.” Bob’s heart almost stopped.
Where the hell did that come from?!
Brenda chastised him, “Bob! That’s tasteless to laugh about those poor murdered women like that. Shame on you! I don’t care that they were prostitutes, they were still people.”
“I’m sorry, Dear, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
What in god’s name did I say that for?
“I love you just how you are, Brenda, and I like us the way we are. I’m not cheating on you.”
I told her… about the hookers. I can’t just let her walk out of here now.
“Don’t read too much into my behavior, Brenda. Midlife crisis, maybe.”
Now I have to keep her quiet!
Bob felt the tremor of fear grow into a knot.
Brenda smiled sweetly and came close. He could smell the fresh, clean scent of the morning shower and fabric softener. She was incredibly plain, and Bob felt absolutely no desire to have sex with her. He inhaled the scents again and remembered all the anger and hatred he had felt for her all these years. He summoned up the apathy and rage, building to a sharp, razor’s edge as he looked into her eyes.
He saw her freckles, her concerned brow. He had nothing. No blood, no stench, no rage, no visions… nothing compelling him to silence her. Just fear. If he had to kill her, he had to do it alone. He did not have the knife or his treasured coat.
He averted his eyes in wilted defeat.
“I’m glad we talked, Bob. And I’m glad you were honest with me. Couples should be honest with each other.” The tone of her voice had changed, and when he looked back up to her, he noticed that the coat she was holding over her arm and stroking lovingly was his. She bent down and gently kissed his head, holding her hand on his shoulder. “Be sure that it stays that way.”
She handed him the coat and then reached into her pocket and extracted something that flashed silver in the kitchen lights. She placed his knife on the table in front of him. Bob’s heart jumped into his throat, and his breath froze.
“Bob-don’t be out too late tonight.”
IRRESISTIBLE by Yvonne Coats
Sandy slumped against the wheel of her old-but-it-still-runs Toyota Celica and tried to figure out how her day had gone to hell. A tap on the window startled her: It was Billy, one of the regulars, smiling at her in a way she’d gotten far too familiar with. Not a bad guy-none of them were bad guys, usually-but she surely did not like that smile.
She rolled the window down a crack, and Billy didn’t say any of the things she’d anticipated, like how unfair it was that she’d been fired. He didn’t ask if she’d be okay, or offer her a loan. What Billy did say was, “I wonder, I mean, could I call you sometime?”
“No. I gotta go now, Billy.” Shit shit shit, she thought as Billy reached for the door handle. She turned the ignition key and had never been more grateful to hear the little Celica’s sewing machine engine turn over.