She tosses back the liquor and sets the glass back down with quivering hands. Her tongue darts out to lick her chapped lips; the alcohol hasn't helped much with this. Another glance at the bottle still half-full with caramel-colored liquid; Constance usually isn't one for even a glass of champagne but it's the quickest way to forget, or at least dull her memory. Turn sharp, painful images into the hazy ones of a dream.
It isn't working. A third, then a fourth glass of fiery alcohol race down her throat. Though her sight may be blurred, the memories are bright and loud, running on an endless loop.
"Oh, I'd been meaning to say, Constance, honey, I'm so sorry. Men can be so awful." Ellie sipped at her tea (unsweetened because sugar was just wreaking havoc on her weight).
" I don't… what?" Constance usually avoided talking to Ellie at these little Ladies' Teas, but with Eleanor and Anne gone, she couldn't do much else. Ellie had a fondness for gossip, and usually the kind that involved whoever she was talking to.
"About what Joseph did." The look she gave Constance over the edge of the teacup made it obvious that she was less sorry than interested in Constance's reaction. Constance only got out a quick stutter before Ellie started in again. "And with Eleanor too... I know this must be hard for you." Ellie looked over towards her, pretending to widen her eyes in surprise. "Oh honey, you did know, didn't you?" Constance felt like a trapped rabbit, twitching hands and darting eyes, looking for an escape. She took off, draining all of her tea in one gulp and burning her mouth, restless hands still squirming, twisting at her sides, flimsy apology thrown at the host.
She takes a breath. It's obvious what she has to do, it probably had been all along. Just because he wasn't around doesn't mean that she can't get rid of him, everything that is his.
She licks her lips again and bolts up from the couch. She blinks, taking a moment to catch her balance before she darts up the stairs. She has to find anything, everything that was Joe's and break it, destroy it. A book torn, a picture in a frame shattered before Constance looks out the window. There. Down there. He really likes those.
A cough and then, "Andrew, Marie, come inside. You're getting absolutely filthy, come take a bath." Her voice is scratchy and shrill, but she doesn't think they notice. She sits, not blinking, waiting for them to come up the stairs. When they do, she plasters on a smile and pushes them towards the bath. She smiles and plays her role, if somewhat stiffly. She sees her opportunity, the water is just high enough…
Two small screams and matching gurgles echo throughout the house.
Five minutes later a woman's scream followed by a sob fills the house.
One hour and fifty-three minutes later, Constance Welch commits suicide by jumping off the bridge on the Centennial Highway.
Five hours later, Joseph Welch is notified that he is childless and a widower.