She stood up and walked toward him, and then she began unbuttoning the yoke neck of her gown. He watched her in panic, not knowing whether to flee or stand, knowing only that he would have to carry out his plan after this, knowing that she would go further and further unless it were ended, and knowing that only he could end it, in the only possible way open for him.
He watched her take the hem of her gown in her fingers and pull it up over her waist. He saw the clean whiteness of her skin, and then she pulled the gown up over her back, turning, her breasts still covered, bending.
‘In the centre of my back, Jonas, do you see it?’
She came closer to him, and he was wet with perspiration now. He stared at her back, the fullness of her buttocks, the impression of her spine against her flesh.
‘There’s... there’s nothing, Mrs. Hicks.’ he said. ‘Nothing.’
She dropped the gown abruptly, and then turned to face him, the smile on her mouth again, the yoke of the gown open so that he could see her breasts plainly.
‘Nothing?’ she asked, smiling. ‘You saw nothing, Jonas?’
‘Nothing, Mrs. Hicks,’ he said, and he turned and left her, still smiling, her hands on her hips.
He slit his wrists with a razor blade the next morning. He watched the blood stain the sand on the beach he’d always kept so clean, and he felt a strange inner peace possess him as the life drained out of him.
The native police did not ask many questions when they arrived, and Mrs. Hicks did not offer to show them her torn and shredded nightgown, or the purple bruises on her breasts and thighs.
She hired a new caretaker that afternoon.
One Down
She leaned back against the cushions of the bed, and there was that lazy, contented smile on her face as she took a drag on her cigarette. The smoke spiralled around her face, and she closed her eyes sleepily. I remembered how I had once liked that sleepy look of hers. I did not like it now.
‘It’s good when you’re home, Ben,’ she said.
‘Uh-huh,’ I murmured. I took a cigarette from the box on the night table, lighted it, and blew out a stream of smoke.
‘Yes, yes, it’s really good.’ She drew on her cigarette, and I watched the heave of her breasts, somehow no longer terribly interested.
‘I hate your job,’ she said suddenly.
‘Do you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, pouting. ‘It’s like a... a wall between us. When you’re gone, I sit here and just curse your job and pray that you’ll be home again soon. I hate it, Ben. I really do.’
‘Well,’ I said drily, ‘we have to eat, you know.’
‘Couldn’t you get another job?’ she asked. It was only about the hundredth time she’d asked that same question.
‘I suppose,’ I said wearily.
‘Then why don’t you?’ She sat up suddenly. ‘Why don’t you, Ben?’
‘I like travelling,’ I said. I was so tired of this, so damned tired of the same thing every time I was here. All I could think of now was what I had to do. I wanted to do it and get it over with.
She grinned coyly. ‘Do you miss me when you’re on the road?’
‘Sure,’ I said.
She cupped her hands behind my neck and trailed her lips across my jaw line. I felt nothing.
‘Very much?’
She kissed my ear, shivered a little, and came closer to me.
‘Yes, I miss you very much,’ I said.
She drew away from me suddenly. ‘Do you like the house, Ben? I did just what you said. I moved out of the apartment as soon as I got your letter. You should have told me sooner, Ben. I had no idea you didn’t like the city.’
‘The neighbours were too snoopy,’ I said. ‘This is better. Out in the country like this.’
‘But it’s so lonely. I’ve been here a week already, and I don’t know a soul yet.’ She giggled. ‘There’s hardly a soul to know.’
‘Good,’ I said.
‘Good?’ Her face grew puzzled. ‘What do you mean, Ben?’
‘Adele,’ I told her, ‘you talk too much.’
I pulled her face to mine and clamped my mouth onto hers, just to shut her up. She brought her arms up around my neck immediately, tightening them there, bringing her body close to mine. I tried to move her away from me gently, but my arms were full of her, and her lips were moist and eager. Her eyes closed tightly, and I sighed inwardly and listened to the lonely chirp of the crickets outside the window.
‘Do you love me?’ she asked later.
‘Yes.’
‘Really, Ben? Really and truly?’
‘Really and truly.’
‘How much do you love me?’
‘A whole lot, Adele.’
‘But do you... where are you going, Ben?’
‘Something I want to get from my jacket.’
‘Oh, all right.’ She stopped talking, thinking for a moment. ‘Ben, if you had to do it all over again, would you marry me? Would you still choose me as your wife?’
‘Of course.’ I walked to the closet and opened the door. I knew just where I’d left it. In the righthand jacket pocket.
‘What is it you’re getting, Ben? A present?’ She sat up against the pillows again. ‘Is it a present for me?’
‘In a way,’ I said. I closed my fist around it and turned abruptly. Her eyes opened wide.
‘Ben! A gun. What... what are you doing with a gun?’
I didn’t answer. I grinned, and saw something in my eyes, and her mouth went slack.
‘Ben, no!’ she said.
‘Yes, Adele.’
‘Ben, I’m your wife. Ben, you’re joking. Tell me you’re joking.’
‘No, Adele, I’m quite serious.’
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, the covers snatching at the thin material of her gown, pulling it over her thighs.
‘Ben, why? Why are you... Ben, please. Please!’
She was cringing against the wall now, her eyes saucered with fear.
I raised the gun.
‘Ben!’
I fired twice, and both bullets caught her over her heart, I watched the blood appear on the front of her gown, like red mud slung at a clean, white wall. She toppled forward suddenly, her eyes blank. I put the gun away, dressed, and packed my suitcase.
It took me two days to get there. I opened the screen door and walked into the kitchen. There was the smell of meat and potatoes frying, a smell I had come to dislike intensely. The radio was blaring, the way it always was when I arrived. I grimaced.
‘Anybody home?’ I called.
‘Ben?’ Her voice was surprised, anxious. ‘Is that you, Ben?’
‘Hello, Betty,’ I said tonelessly. She rushed to the front door and threw herself into my arms. Her hair was in curlers, and she smelled of frying fat.
‘Ben, Ben darling, you’re back. Oh Ben, how I missed you.’
‘Did you?’
‘Ben, let me look at you.’ She held me away from her and then lifted her face and took my mouth hungrily. I could still smell the frying fat aroma.
I pushed her away from me gently. ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘cut it out. Way you’re behaving, people would never guess we’ve been married for three years already.’
She sighed deeply. ‘You know, Ben,’ she said, ‘I hate your job.’
Kiss Me Dudley
She was cleaning fish by the kitchen sink when I climbed through the window, my .45 in my hand. She wore a low-cut apron, shadowed near the frilly top. When she saw me, her eyes went wide, and her lips parted, moist and full. I walked to the sink, and I picked up the fish by the tail, and I batted her over the eye with it.
‘Darling,’ she murmured.
I gave her another shot with the fish, this time right over her nose. She came into my arms, and there was ecstasy in her eyes, and her breath rushed against my throat. I shoved her away, and I swatted her full on the mouth. She shivered and came to me again. I held her close, and there was the odor of fish and seaweed about her. I inhaled deeply, savoring the taste. My father had been a sea captain.