The sight of carved flesh freaked me out. Ironically, I could plan the murder of my husband and not flinch.
“Hun, tell ‘em about the time your stew gave everybody the runs.”
I hated when he called me that. Graham’s words coiled into his importunate laughter. His voice traveled up my spine to a familiar pain in my neck.
“You tell it better than I do, Graham.” I yelled back. I kept side dishes going from inside. Our kitchen flowed onto the backyard deck. Graham was at his best telling lame jokes and slicing sauce-bathed meat. He had the floor. Our backyard monthly ritual was barbecue.
Neighbor Aaron came inside the opened French doors balancing glasses for refills. His warm breath filled my ear while my hands held onto the cool granite counter.
“Your husband is such a dork, wearing his naked lady apron. What were you thinking?” He whispered.
“I was young and lacking taste.” I smiled.
“You taste great now.” Aaron flirted.
“Let’s not get caught before we get our freedom.” I pulled away.
“No worries. They’re drunk.” Aaron smiled and pointed outside.
Graham’s voice dominated.
“Here goes, another one. Two peanuts walk into a bar. One was a salted. Get it? A salted?” Our tipsy neighbors booed.
Aaron and Celia had moved into Forest Shores Subdivision three years ago. My affair with Aaron began weeks after. Aaron was the opposite of Graham in every way. He was handsome, adventurous and creative. Graham blended into a sea of middle-aged, buttoned-down shirts and khakis. His imagination was as stale as his jokes. I was a frustrated writer. Aaron and I decided to rid me of Graham. He would divorce Celia.
“I’m so tired of our suck-o, stucco with our uniformed tile roofs.” I whined. “Our houses look alike, our kids look alike and hell, even our cars are the same. If it weren’t for you, I couldn’t take this.”
“Don’t worry, dear. This is the last barbecue for us. We get him in the morning. Fake robbery. Clean and quick.” Aaron filled the martini glasses and walked out. “Come and get ‘em future AA members.”
Around dusk, I closed the party, politely.
“Graham. We are officially out of food. Maybe our company should go home.” I chuckled from the kitchen.
Within minutes, the last of our guests stumbled down our manicured street to their homes.
“Next year, I’m charging.” Graham kidded. He then turned to me with glaring eyes. His movements seemed rehearsed. I felt a prick. My tongue had become heavy. I grabbed the sofa to steady myself.
“Trouble seeing, Hun?” Graham’s voice had an unfamiliar edge. “Curare and a few additives of my own are just enough to keep you alive, but paralyzed. You see Sunny, it’s possible to have an affair, secretly. I know. So, I will continue with my girlfriend, hire a nurse and watch you live in misery. Fair? I think so.” Graham’s voice was like vinegar.
He picked me up and carried me upstairs. I tried to move my arms, but they were lead. As he changed my clothes, I saw insanity in his eyes. He told the peanut joke again emphasizing a-salted. I felt the warmth of my tears trail the sides of my mouth. I cried again the next morning with the report that Aaron’s brakes failed and he was killed.
One month later, smoke from the barbecue pit blurred my empty eyes. My wheel chair was a bit close, but no one noticed because Graham was telling jokes. He had the floor.
