Waiting
As she sat alone in the quiet diner just north of her house, she waited. They would be coming soon, coming to take her away. How could this have happened? She was supposed to have everything, anything that she wanted. He was never supposed to die.
In the distance she could hear the sirens. She didn't have much time, what would she say? Would she tell them the truth- a wealthy woman was losing her husband and decided to smother him in his sleep? What would the neighbours think? She could plead insanity- she wasn't in her right mind. Someone made her do it. Either way, she would have to live with the fact that she killed her husband.
As she sat in the diner, clutching coffee that had long gone cold, the memories came. They rushed in, like a warm summer breeze, and filled her with a joy that she had long forgotten- before she got lost along the way. As sobs wracked her body she remembered. All the long walks along the beach, picnics in the light of day and dancing in the moonlight. Then came her regrets. Although only newly dead, he had left her long ago. Late nights in the office, mysterious phone calls, rows late in the evening.
Only that night he had come home late again, smelling of a woman she could not recognise. She couldn't handle it anymore. She had done everything for him. She was a good mother, a friend. Now a murderer. How did this happen? Suburban housewives don't smother their husbands in their sleep. Where would she go? She couldn't go back home where her whole world unravelled. She would need to find a good lawyer- someone who understands she just wanted to be loved.
The sirens were getting closer. Would she be sent to prison? Surely they would see it wasn't her fault. She just wanted it to stop. All the lying, all the deceit. Her poor children. Maybe she'd tell them one day- the story of how their mother finally fought back. For now she would blame him. For now he had to leave and she was unsure of his return. She would have to make funeral arrangements. What would she tell his family? Would she say she fought for her freedom? Or the person she used to be? She stared down at her pale, clammy hands. How could such tiny things have taken someone's life? He must be laughing now. He used to always say she had such ineffectual hands. If only he knew.
It was getting late. Surely someone has figured it out by now. She'll be taken to the prison, hands tainted with blue ink and sent to die of boredom in a claustrophobic cell. Prison can't be that bad right? She had heard that they've renovated the whole place. Maybe she'll get a nice and big room, perhaps a view? She had never seen a prison before, except in movies of course. She was sure they were made to look tougher than in real life to scare people. She'll be fine, perhaps make some friends. Perhaps someone who understands.
She suddenly looked up to see the room in which she sat and realised; she'd been here before. It was here that she first saw him. He didn't see her but she saw straight through him- right down to his soul. He was handsome in a goofy way and seemed to be the joker of his group. It was not his wit that attracted her but his eyes. They looked straight at you and you could tell he could see everything. He was smarter than any man she had met and kinder than that. When she met him she knew she could be herself with him. She was safe. She just didn't know the person she would become. Suddenly she heard a bell jingle. She looked up to see a detective heading straight towards her. Sitting as quiet as a mouse, she sat and waited. Waited and enjoyed her victory, her freedom while she could.