Hurt

            by Eunjie Song

 

The doorbell rang, sending the jolly melody of “Home Sweet Home” echoing through the quiet hallway. The house emitted warm orange glow under the sunshine of Thursday afternoon. Linda closed the cover of the book she had been reading and walked toward the door.

“Who is it?” she called through the closed door.

“Hi. I'm Detective Morrison from the Berkeley Police Department. Is this the house of Mr. Duffrey?”

She hesitated for a second. “Yes, it is.”

“Is he home?”

“No, he's not.”

“Will he be back anytime soon?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“When will he be back? When's the best time to reach him?”

“I don't know,” she paused. “In the evening, probably,” she quickly added.

“Well, ma'am,” the detective replied, “I'll be back in the evening, then. Have a nice day.”

Through the gauzy curtain draped over the glass door, Linda watched the shadowy figure shrink away and disappear. She returned to her seat and reopened the book. But instead of resuming reading, she stood up, went into the kitchen and took out a kitchen knife from her jacket. Running the water along the shiny blade, she scrubbed it aggressively over and over again.

***

Linda met her husband while she was still in college. She was a dreamy French poet, he was an ambitious business student. It wasn’t love at first sight, but something much deeper. At least she liked to think so. True, she found John quite handsome when she first met him, had admired his enchanting dark eyes and the dark hair, but it was his caring side that really drew her to him. She remembered that fateful day. She was looking at the unforeseen rain, wondering what to do. He shyly handed her his umbrella and darted off into the pouring rain before she could say a word. From that day on, she often caught herself gazing towards his earnest face across the lecture hall, losing her way in a daydream.

John heard a rumor that she was failing the class and kindly offered to tutor her. Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, they met in the library. She soon knew that she was in love.

He was the only one who truly understood her desire to venture outside her parents’ lifelong overprotection and brought out her wild side. She always accepted his dares. There were times when she lost her balance and slid off the cliff, but he would always come to her rescue and catch her. He had connections, ways to get around and get her out of troubles. Once he was done taking care off them, she would bury into his arms, feeling safe and secure.

Linda almost burst into tears when she saw John down on one knee, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. Her parents didn’t fancy him much, finding his paycheck too middle-class. They also said he seemed too shrewd, whatever that meant. But they eventually gave in and let the newlyweds move into a spacious house in the Berkeley Hills. Looking at the setting sun over the Golden Gate Bridge from her balcony, she tasted happiness in her cup of espresso.

 

The accident was abrupt and fatal, just like the rain that fell down that day. As she nodded to the paramedics, a warm teardrop rolled down her cheek and fell, mingling with the raindrops from the sky. White sheets were pulled over to cover her parents' expressionless faces. John seemed quite shocked too, since he didn’t comfort her as much as she thought he would have. His eyes gazed afar, deep in thought. The lawyer talked about their inheritance and the insurance money, but she just sat there absently while John stepped out and took care of everything. She leaned on his shoulder. He was the only one left in this world she could call family.

 

She returned to her work a few days later. Although it wasn’t as bright as it used to be, a smile traced her face. She lost herself in work, taking her mind away from the tragic incident. But on rainy days she’d drown herself in bottles of wine. Sometimes she would drink until the day cleared up. Then she’d have a couple more sips until the next rain. Her body refused to endure her workload any longer. She quit her job before they could fire her. The doctor gave her a firm warning, and she was sent home with some antidepressants. When she saw John in the doorway, she wanted to look pretty in his eyes, with a smile on her face as bright as the sun. But her pale face had long lost its complexion and her tangled brown hair untidily sat on her shabby shirt. He must have been tired too, since he just waked across the room and went into the bedroom without taking much notice of her.

 

It wasn't clear when, but John started working late constantly. He returned home at ten, eleven, and then at twelve. He told her not to wait up for him. Sometimes she couldn't even guess if he had been home the night before. Then he had to take a business trip to New York for a week.

“I know you need rest,” John said. “You don't have to come all the way to the airport.”

So she stayed home while he got a ride to the airport from his colleague. A month after his trip, she peeked at his credit card bill and saw that he had paid for a room for two in a hotel in Miami. He ordered some champagne along the way as well.

 

Linda didn't want to lose her husband. She told herself that if he just spared a little place for her in his heart, that would just be enough. But why did he have to do it? Was his love for her finally all gone? Why? Endless questions sped through her mind.

When he came back from another of his late night shifts, she let him know that he didn’t have to lie anymore. With his mouth tightly closed, he just stared at her. Was it guilt? Regret? Anger? She couldn’t figure out the look on his face.

Her heart was about to explode but her voice remained mute. He was sitting on the chair on the balcony, his back facing her. Sending out the purple smoke under the sunset, he talked of that someone he met. She said she understood, she knew how much he loved that new woman, and all she cared about was his happiness. John just lit another cigarette.

“I tried to break it off. I can't stand her anymore. But she won't let me go. She wants me to leave you.”

Linda silently gazed at his back over the cigarette smoke.

“She’s a maniac. She says we’re all going to die together unless I divorce you.” He exhaled another blow of smoke.

“I need to get rid of her for both of our sakes. I just want everything to be the way it used to be,” he shook off the ashes from his cigarette and turned around. “Will you...?”

She didn’t know what to say, so she just nodded her head.

 

On Friday late in the afternoon, Linda called at the address given by her husband. A sleek young woman stepped out of an office building. Linda recognized her right away. Ruth was the name, John had said. She must have been twenty-five at most. Her bright red lipstick contrasted the blonde in her well-trimmed pixie haircut, giving her a bold and daring look. The trendy jacket and the skinny jeans she wore looked stunning on her tall, slender body. Linda took a quick glimpse of herself on the building window. The loose clothes she wore might have been comfortable but definitely not trendy. Her inflated mousy hair seemed unkempt and uneven. She tried to flatten it by pressing down her hand on it but it became even more tangled by a sudden gust of wind. Linda turned her eyes away from the window and walked up to the young woman, realizing that the woman was at least a foot taller than she was. She introduced herself.

“So you’re Linda.” The woman folded her arms. “I hope you’re here to tell me what I expect to hear.”

“I need to talk to you,” Linda said nervously.

“All right. Go ahead.”

“It’s private. I need you to come with me. I want to show you something.”

The woman was pretty, but she must not have been that bright. Aside from frequent grumbles, she obediently followed Linda along the most desolate path of Tilden Park. Linda remembered her husband’s words: You should bring her and leave her there. That’ll take care of our alibis. Then I’ll take care of the rest.

“Hey!” the woman yelled from behind. “Just when the fuck are we getting there? It’s dark already.”

“We’re almost there. Just a little more.”

The woman swore in a low voice and took off her heels. She wasn’t that tall, but still taller than Linda. Carrying the shoes in her hand, she cursed each time she took a step.

“I’m not taking another fucking step.” The woman sat down on the ground and spat out defiantly. “It’s either you go bring it here, or I’m out.”

They were right on the spot anyways. Linda told her to wait there and kept on walking. When she was sure the woman couldn’t see her anymore, she took a turn and walked her way back home.  This seems wrong, she thought. I have to stop him. She turned around and started walking back. The scornful eyes and the sneering lips of the woman suddenly came into her mind. After a moment of hesitation, she turned around and resumed her way home. A gust of wind shook the branches of the trees around her. They almost sounded like a scream.

 

John returned home late at night. He handed back her kitchen knife wrapped in his shirt. They both had red stains on them. Linda held them in her hands for a while. The shirt was shredded, burnt bit by bit, and drained down to the sewer as ashes. After washing the stains off the knife, she dipped it in bleach, repeating the process over and over again. John could get into trouble if anyone finds this. She kept the knife.

***

Linda looked up and realized that she had been scrubbing the knife for about two hours now. It was getting dark already. She put the knife back in the drawer and started preparing dinner. She looked at the clock again. John was running a little later than he usually did after the incident. The doorbell rang. Linda greeted her husband and told her about the visitor she had that afternoon.

“I know,” he answered. “A cop came up to me and questioned me when I was on my way home. It's been a week. No wonder police are looking for her.”

“What do we do now?”

“You just need to keep quiet, and everything will be fine.” John showed her a smile, distorted probably from nervousness.

 

It had been two days after the visit from the police. Linda had not heard from them since. She sighed and looked up at the clouded sky. It was only two in the afternoon but felt like eight in the evening. Rain was drizzling outside just hard enough to keep everyone inside. Linda zipped up her raincoat.

“I didn't do a very good job hiding the body last time. The rain might cause a problem. We need to bury it deeper,” Paul repeated to her for the third time as they went into the garage. He didn't want to drive the car so Linda took the wheel. The sound of the rain against the car roof sounded rhythmic in silence.

The parking lot was completely empty aside from a shabby car parked in the corner. Linda stopped the car under the big willow tree and turned it off. She handed him the car key, but he just shook his head and exited the car, grabbing a shovel from the backseat. Linda slid the key into her pocket and followed him along the familiar path. She could still see the high heel footprints on the ground. Taking a deep breath, she paced herself to catch up with John.

 

She was standing there, the same place Linda had left her. Only this time, Linda was the one that wasn’t prepared. Her crimson lips looked like a slash across her pale face. She was smiling. Linda turned around.

“You will commit a suicide,” John’s voice was cold. He held out his pistol in the air. The woman walked over to him and took it with her leather-gloved hands, kissing him lightly on the cheek. Before she could turn around, Linda stabbed her hard in the back. A scream and a smell of iron filled in the air. Linda quickly snatched up the pistol dropped on the ground and put in against the woman’s blonde pixie hair. The woman paused for a moment. Linda pulled the trigger. There was a thump. Linda looked at her husband, who seemed stupefied.

“If you wanted me gone so much,” she said in teary eyes. “All you had to do was ask.”

The gun clicked. Linda looked at the gun and showed a weird expression.

“You had two bullets in them,” she said, looking at John straight in the eye. She put the gun against her head. She pulled the trigger.