This Valentine Ain't No Saint

            I opened the front door and smiled. I had had a long day at work and was happy to see Chris standing in front of me. He appeared to have been waiting for me to arrive home. We’d been married for three years now, but this was the first time we decided to really celebrate Valentine’s Day. Neither of us had ever been very fond of this Hallmark-created, superficial holiday, but this year, he insisted that we go out for dinner. While we saw eye to eye on most everything, there were some issues we would always disagree on.

            Chris was dressed in a plain black suit and a perfectly red tie that contrasted with his olive colored skin, light brown hair, and gorgeous green eyes. He smiled back at me and handed me a dozen roses. “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” he said. I reached out to grab the roses and something pricked me. A rose.

            “Ow,” I exclaimed. Blood gushed from my thumb. “Let me go put these in a vase, I’ll be right back.” Chris took a quick look at his ringing cell phone and rejected a mysterious call while simultaneously nodding okay to me.

            I walked into the kitchen and filled my favorite black vase with some water and stuck the roses in. I rinsed off my thumb in the kitchen sink and opened a drawer to find a Band-Aid. When I looked up, the light hit the window so I could clearly see a reflection of the living room, near the front doorway where Chris and I had been standing only a few moments earlier. But Chris was no longer there. I turned around. “Jesus!”

            Chris stood about four inches away from me with a knife in his hand. “You should really cut off the stems,” he smiled and reached for the roses.

            I took a deep breath and stepped back, then leaned against the counter and watched as he cautiously chopped off the ends of the rose stems. He then put the roses back in the vase and walked towards me with the knife. He placed it, almost too carefully, in the sink to the left of me.

            He looked at me and smiled again. “So are you ready?” he said. “I have an eventful night planned for us.” I was completely still, but I managed to nod my head.

*                                  *                                  *

            The restaurant was festive and lively. Big, red heart balloons tied on the back of every other chair, pink and white table clothes on every table, and candles flickering all over the room. It was completely packed. People laughing left and right, enjoying their dates. How nice. The waitress took us to a small table in a private room separated from the rest of the restaurant by a light pink curtain. We ordered two glasses of 2004 Sterling Chardonnay and waited.

            Chris set his phone on top of the table, next to his glass of water and sat back in his chair. He looked at me and then back at his phone. “April, I just want to apologize. I know I’ve been a little hard on you, but considering everything with my mother…”

            “Don’t worry about it. I know everyone’s been a little off since she passed away.” I sometimes wish he would stop talking about her all the time. She was never very fond of me or our marriage anyways.

            “Thank you,” was all he had to say.

            “Chris…” I started. “I know you said something a couple months back that if your mother passed away, we would get her inheritance…is this still true?” I tried to sound neutral, but I think he knew this question was coming.       

            “April, my mother is leaving her inheritance to me,” he responded. His voice was sharp.

            “Well, I know that. But technically since we’re married, didn’t she leave it to us?,” I asked with wide eyes. I touched his hand. In less than a millisecond, he tugged his hand away. He just looked at me, surprised. He knew as well as I did his mother would not approve of this conversation.

            “Over my dead body,” he finally said. I heard his phone ring.

            “Chris, would you please turn that goddamn thing off? We’re at dinner…” my voice trailed off when I saw the name on his phone screen. In blue letters it read: Rose.

            “C’mon April. I have important business to take care of.”

            “On Valentine’s Day?!” I couldn’t’ help but raise my voice. “Of course you have business with Rose. Who is that, your new girlfriend?”

            He just stared at me, like I was a crazy woman. He picked up his phone, intentionally concealing the screen in his fist and stood up. He took a deep breath, obviously holding back the words he wanted to say. This was something I absolutely hated about him – he could never be completely honest with me and I was sick of it. He was always pretending like nothing was wrong when there was a conflict staring him right in the face. He stood there for about thirty seconds before he spoke.

            “April, excuse me for a minute, but I need to use the gent’s room.”

            “Fine,” I shrugged. I watched him lift the pink curtain and disappear into the busy restaurant just outside our private little cove. I slouched back in my chair.

*                                  *                                  *

            When Chris returned, the waitress had already delivered our food and wine. He sat down quietly and calmly, not even bothering to look at me. When he finally looked up, I met his eyes.

            “April...,” he sat, collecting his thoughts. “There are just some things I’m not okay with.”

            Why did he insist on being so aggravating? I couldn’t handle it. “Chris. Stop. It’s Valentine’s Day, we can talk about this later.” I could tell this was going to turn into an argument, and I didn’t want it to happen in this pathetic little cove in this brightly colored restaurant.

            “April, listen to me,” he said. “This is not a matter of negotiation.” He sat up straight in his chair. I couldn’t tell if he was going to continue, or if that was the end of it. I stared at him and waited. He opened his mouth to speak, but then shook his head. Here we go again…

            “Chris. For once, would you please, for once, just say what you’re thinking?!”

I couldn’t believe those words had just come out of my mouth. This was not the time, nor the place for this discussion.

            “You know what, April?” he said. “My mom didn’t like you. And I don’t think she would want you to receive any part of the inheritance,” he paused. “And neither do I.” He just looked at me, no feeling of guilt in his eyes, no regret. “And you told me you forgave me for the incident with Rose. Why do you continue to bring it up? Sometimes I wish you weren’t around, breathing down my neck all the time.”

            I sat there, speechless. When I finally found my voice, all I could say was, “Excuse me Chris, but I’m going back to my apartment now.” So I got up, and left.

*                                  *                                  *

            I don’t think Chris had ever spoken to me like that before. I didn’t know how to process all that had just happened. Why didn’t he want me to have access to his mother’s money? Why was he keeping Rose a secret for so long? Why did he cheat on me in the first place? All I could think about was how mad I was, how I didn’t really care if I ever saw him again. But all that money. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve a penny of it. Isn’t it the law to have to share the inheritance with me? Goddamnit, I wish I remembered what the pre-nup said. I knew I had a copy of it somewhere in our apartment. I started running.

            I got back to the apartment and entered the office. I headed towards the neat, organized desk where Chris kept everything important locked away safely. I knew where the key was. I knew what was behind the deadbolt lock. I had to hurry, since I knew he would be home soon, and we couldn’t have that, could we? I tripped over a stack of papers, fuckin’ papers. I needed to find it. I needed to prove that I deserved a part of everything. I lifted the key from its place on the neat, organized desk and tossed a bunch of papers aside. I stuck the key in the lock. Click.

*                                  *                                  *

            I heard the front door open. And Chris’ voice yelling, “April! April, Come here now!” He was screaming, and heavily breathing. I carefully tiptoed out of the office and looked him dead in the eye. I threw the papers at him.

            “Here you go Chris. Remember the pre-nups we both signed? Remember you agreed to let me have half of everything?” I looked straight in his eyes. I could tell he wasn’t going to give in. So I opened my coat and reached inside. I reached for the inside pocket, where I had placed Chris’ gun. I lifted it out and aimed it at him.

            His eyes widened. He gulped. You could see it in the way the sweat droplets started to form on his forehead, on the way his lips quivered, and in the way he lifted his hand as if to say “Stop.”

            When he finally got up the courage to speak, I was no longer listening. Money, money, money were the only words going through my head. He looked so pathetic, standing there with tears forming in his eyes. I laughed to myself. He didn’t get it. He no longer deserved to live. And if I couldn’t have the money, neither could he. I pulled the trigger. Five times. He fell to the ground, his beautiful red tie and perfect suit covered in his blood. His eyes rolled back in his head. His fragile limbs hung by his side.

            I then examined the gun. The cleanliness. The black color. The power it gave me. The love it took away. The way it made me feel alive. And with that, I turned the gun to my own skull. Boom.