North Woods
Chapter One
Only one light was on when he came home, at least that’s what she told me. It was the third time he’d been home late in two weeks. So I guess she knew then what was going on. It must have been hard for her, knowing all that and keeping quiet. I just didn’t care. She wrote it all down as it happened, it’s all right here. Yeah, a diary. I got it from her after she came back. It was only for the funeral she came back, to make appearances. She said so herself. That hurt me the most, that after everything, she only came back to keep her name out of the dirt. From the beginning? All right.
January 24th, Tuesday, 2023
Joe’s home late again. I think I’m going to ask him why. I can only pray it’s another woman. Every night it’s been the night before one of those horrible murders on television. They find bodies, four now, and it’s awful. The last ones were of a couple, man and woman, twisted together like that painting of the Greek Daphne he bought me last month. Twisted around the beam in their apartment. Slashed and the last report said they were missing their hearts. So were the last two. I’ve got to ask him.
“Joe?” She approached from the bedroom hallway. Her eyes pleaded silently for an answer that would not come. He was sitting at the kitchen table reading the mail.
“Bills again. Did we even order this?” He tossed a cable scam letter to his right, missing the trash can and watching it sail under the refrigerator. “What is it, Susie?”
“Oh, um,” she said, the courage slipping from her like a melting ice cube, “Just wondering why you were home so late.” Joe looked up, brow furrowed.
“You’re asking now, after I’ve been home late twice before? I thought you might have asked the first night. But no, nevermind.”
“What?”
“Susie, what is it? Why do you think I’ve been out?”
“It’s just, oh, I feel so stupid asking this. Is there another woman?” Susie closed her eyes, bracing for the ‘no’ she hoped would not come. Joe just stared incredulously at her.
“You think I would cheat on you?” He looked disappointed, upset. Not angry.
“No, that’s what I’m hoping is the reason,” she replied, stepping around the corner into the kitchen light.
“You want to know the real reason?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“I’ll tell you. But you’ve already put the pieces together, haven’t you? I can see it. Are you afraid of me now?” Standing, Joe was over six feet, three inches tall, semi-muscular and broad shouldered. He wore glasses, gold oval frames, had dark brown hair. But he did not stand; he only looked into her eyes. The truth was, Susie was deathly afraid of her husband, but she loved him no less.
“No.”
“Don’t lie. I didn’t lie to you. Don’t lie to me.”
“I am afraid,” she replied obediently, looking away from him. There was nothing she could do now, it was all true. All true. Joe stood now and walked over to her, arms outstretched. She fell into them, crying.
“I’ll bet you’re wondering how I can live with myself. That’s all right, you don’t understand. You never will understand. It’s cheaper than a drug and it only costs one or two human lives. Human lives are worthless. Humans are worthless. We live in constant filth and lies and deceit. I’m doing them a favor. There’s your justification. I don’t need any for myself. It’s just fun. I feel like a kid again. You know I would never hurt you, right?” She nodded into his chest, sniffing loudly. His arms tightened around her, and he carried her to their bedroom. “Will you sleep?”
“No.”
“All right. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”
“Okay.” He left her alone, on the bed, and left the room. As he closed the door, he could hear her sobs into the pillow, too soft to comprehend the words, but too loud not to notice. It hurt him, but he wasn’t going to stop. Not now. Not because of her.
He walked into the spare room across the hall, flicking on the light as he did so. He went routinely to the shelf on the far side of the room and opened a wooden cigar box. Taking one out, Joe ran it along his upper lip, breathing in the warm, tobacco scent. He smiled and put one end between chipped teeth, chewing a little. One hand habitually went up to cover the lighter's flame that shot up from his right hand. Butane lighter, great for thawing locks in the Eau Claire winter weather, kept the cigar from tasting like benzene. The cigar glowed red, then orange as Joe lowered the lighter and tossed it casually into an open desk drawer. Then, he seated himself in his large, worn armchair by the only window in the room. It was open, and the cool night breeze fluttered the sheer curtains, brushing the trails of smoke further into the corners of the room. They dissipated as they passed under the naked light bulb; Susie had never gotten around to picking out the kind of cover she wanted for the room.
Smoking his Honduras, sitting alone in the spare room, it was all so calming to Joe. This was his premeditation room, his special room. Susie didn't even come in here, and she probably never would now that she knew about him. She knew. Joe frowned at this thought; somehow, he had planned tonight a little differently. Sure, he'd come home late again, but he had also gotten lucky three times this week. He though he might hit home after tonight's fourth excursion.
It had been beautiful, a masterpiece. They all were, all five now, each one more exhilarating than the last. In the first, Joe's victim had been a middle-aged, large black landlady. A random face. Shoving her hand down the garbage disposal had been a bit spontaneous, but the blood spray inside the sink and on the walls made quite a nice pattern. The wash cloth stuffed down her throat, while a bit suffocating, had kept her from alerting her tenants. The piece de resistance had been the table lamp to the back of the head. After that, it was just gutting the cow and redecorating her apartment with her innards. White walls, psshaw. Red was in this season.
By the time Joe had finished his cigar, it was almost half past one. The cigar butt, one end soggy from his saliva, the other dry and ashy, sat in a glass ashtray. He left it, flicked off the light, and crossed the hall to the master bedroom. Susie had left the light on. It wasn't very large, the bedroom, just the queen-sized bed, the dark brown, wooden dresser, and the bedside tables. A tacky, built-in window seat with blue-checkered cushions clashed with the orangey-yellow carpet and white, painted-chipped walls. It was not a beautiful room by any means, and the damp pillow under Susie's blonde head didn't add to the decor much. Joe sighed and changed into his pajamas. He had placed quite a burden on his wife and he knew it. He hadn't wanted it to happen, but it had and now he couldn't take it back. There was no way he could just wake up in the morning and say "April Fools!" or pretend as though it never happened.
Oh well. There were more important things to be done. Like sleeping.
It took Joe ages to fall asleep. Lying awake, he attempted to determine if Susie was too, but came to the conclusion she wasn't by the steadiness of her breathing. He reminisced about conversations they had had about children and a better house. None of which would happen now.
Oh well.
