I wanted to tell him it didn’t feel like our home. It never did. It always felt like someone else was there watching us—as if a presence was hovering over us.
“If you want me to stay, I need to know what happened… about the accident.”
Inhaling and exhaling, his chest heaved slowly as he closed his eyes.
“My ex and I… we had an argument one night…”
“So you lived here before… with her… in this house.” The puzzle had just become more complicated.
“She was drinking tea and taunting me.”
The tea, not new, I added to my mental notes while waiting for him to continue. I watched as he put his hand to his forehead running it down his face.
He let out a tense breath. “And then she…”
38
David
I need something to calm my nerves. If I reveal the story, the whole story, no doubt she will leave. I thought we had a chance… that I had the chance to build something new.
I glance over at Val and she shoots me a nervous stare.
I thought I had finally found the right woman, a woman who could stand the test of time. My heart fills with dread and my head starts to pound as I search for the right words to explain what happened. No matter what I say or how I say it, Val will come to her own conclusion.
Did you know that when two people hear the same thing, they hear it differently? It happens because we process things through our own perceptions, our own filters. I know for a fact because I had two wives who were completely oblivious to what I would say. In the end, they only heard what they wanted to hear but it wasn’t the truth… my truth.
“Maybe we should have some wine,” I say.
“Now?” Val makes a face. I watch as she walks over to the bamboo dining set, taking a seat in the yellow chair, always the same yellow chair.
I stand up and walk through the open glass door and into the kitchen. At least ten bugs are buzzing around my head because Val not only forgot to close the glass door but also left the screen door open. She’s always complaining about not enough air circulation and has all the ceiling fans set on high. She completely forgets that it only takes a minute for the house to be swarming with insects. She’s slipping. Or maybe she wants me to be eaten alive.
I swat at my arm, scratching intensely as a red bump appears. These bugs seem to love me more than Val or maybe they just don’t like her overwhelming vanilla body lotion. Everything around here reeks of vanilla: vanilla candles, soaps, sprays, and perfumes.
I think back to that night at dinner with the gals in LA. “You’re no fun. You’re so vanilla,” Cindy had mocked, calling her ‘vanilla Val.’ Maybe she’s right. I laugh to myself. ‘Vanilla Val’ does sort of fit her personality.
I gaze at the wine rack and sigh. We're out of red. Only one bottle lies there and it’s white. Do I dare? Tapping a finger on my lip, I ponder a moment.
Yanking the bottle off the rack, I grip its neck and turn the cap. The cap twists too easily as if it hadn’t been properly sealed. I pause for a second, slightly suspicious, but then one of them must have opened it the other night and decided not to drink it. We had all been over our limit and had imbibed too much.
“I think I should give you some space.” Val’s words ring in my head. So lame, so original. I scoff at her feeble attempt to leave me. If she thinks she can just scurry back to Vegas, back to Cindy and her old life, she’s crazy. It’s funny how Cindy made a little joke saying that I should be in her life. She said I had chosen the wrong woman and I should have picked her.
I knew she had a thing for me, but didn’t realize it was so serious. She practically undressed me on the ride to the airport and made it crystal clear she doesn’t want Val to return to Vegas. She was ‘over her,’ she said, with a definitive tone in her voice. Either Val is lying to me about going back to live with Cindy or the poor girl has no clue.
Reaching for two glasses, I grab the bottle and head back out to the deck. Now I have two stories to share with Val, but I’m not sure how I’ll break the news. She’s sitting there picking at her cuticles, a bad habit she can’t seem to break.
“So,” I say, pouring the wine, filling our glasses. I place one in front of Val and she slides it to the side.
“Are you not going to join me?” Taking a sip, I wince. It’s a tad bitter. I pull out a green chair settling into it.
“I’ve had enough wine for a while,” she turns away.
“But it’s white, your favorite.” I hold up my glass, willing her to pick up hers so we can clink and say cheers like the good old times. “Speaking of favorites, if you don’t mind me asking, why do you always sit in the yellow chair?”
Her gaze is solemn and a veil of sadness covers her face. She looks as if she’s given up on us. I sit quietly studying her, sipping my wine despite the taste.
“Why did you search for deadly concoctions?” she says out of nowhere.
For a split second, I am stunned. How could she know that?
“Are you… are you trying to poison someone?” she fearfully stutters. “Are you trying to poison me?”
“No! Val! What are you thinking?”
“I’m repeating what I saw on my computer… your search history,” she flinches.
“What you saw was me checking to make sure I had the right mixture… a safe mixture. I was not concocting anything
