Through A Locked Door

If you saw my wife, you'd tell me how stupid I was for hitting her. And I wouldn't argue. She's a looker. I mean, she makes women in the movies look butt ugly. But in my defense, if you only knew the things I put up with at work, you'd cut me some slack. I know what you're gonna say – that's no excuse. But, hey, don't worry. I'm going to apologize – if she'll let me.

She's been crying in our room for hours. I've tried entering several times, but it's locked. All that punching and shouting must have drained me more than I imagined. Just turning the door knob has worn me out. But if she doesn't come out soon, I'll bust the door down. It's just that I hate fixing things, so hopefully, it won't come to that.

"I'm sorry, Honey! I really am!" I shouted through the door. I know she can hear me. Honestly, all this begging for forgiveness is making me hungry. I suppose I could get myself something to eat, but she'll own me. Who ever heard of a husband making his own dinner?

I'm getting tired of this annoying breeze. I first noticed it after our fight. That wife of mine! She left a window open somewhere – thinks I'm made of money. I'm gonna have to buckle down on her – we can't afford to cool outside. I opened the fridge, and I heard my wife cry out like a banshee. I'm not gonna lie. It gave me goosebumps. I ran back to our room.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She kept screaming over and over through sobs. I went to open the door, but it was still locked. The little wench! She'll get nowhere with me until she begs on her knees for forgiveness. You don't say sorry through a locked door!

That's enough! She can keep screaming all she wants. I'm out of here. I rushed out the door without my keys or wallet, which was fine; I just needed to clear my head. She is so infuriating - always making me mad. I'm not even an angry kind of guy. You can ask anyone who knew me before my marriage. She's changed me. And I'm not saying for the better. I should be sainted for putting up with her.

A trash can fell. I looked up to see a mangy dog tearing through a trash bag. The mutt suddenly stopped and slowly looked my way. I've never seen a dog with such an odd expression – fear mingled with fight. I hate dogs. I walked across the street right at him to give him a good kick. The closer I got, the stiffer the dog got. He began to growl, then whimper, then growl again. The dog wouldn't even look at me directly. I was about to teach him a lesson when he bolted, whining the entire way.

"Yeah, that's right! You better run! Crazy dog!"

Truthfully, I wish I could have broken the brute's ribs. He deserved it—growl at me. I don't think so. Now that I think of it. That loser wife of mine growled at me. She wasn't sorry — screaming at me like a crazy chick. Maybe she needs a few more punches. I turned back for home.

I rushed into the house, determined to have it out. If the bedroom door is still locked, I'll break it down. Then she'd see how serious I am about locking me out and screaming at me. I ran down the hallway but drew myself short of our room. The door was open. I heard her talking, but to who?

"You might not believe me, and I'd understand if you don't, but I'm sorry," my wife said.

I peeked into the room and saw my wife sitting on our bed, looking down at the floor. I don't know how she knew I was standing here. She must have heard me. It seems odd to apologize this way, but maybe she needs it. Eye contact has never been her strong suit. 

She continued. "I can't even remember how the fight started, but I don't want to remember. It's no longer important. The important thing is that it is over."

I stepped into the room. I thought I saw her glance my way, but I didn't want to interrupt her weird apology.

"We've had our struggles, but I'll always look back to this fight as the one that freed us. We finally worked through our differences. I guess you feel the same?"

I don't, but what can I say? She is getting more out of this than I am. I decided to remain quiet and let her finish.

She never took her eyes off the floor. "You and I will be able to move on now, grant it, in very different ways, but we both can rest."

She placed something on the nightstand. I walked closer to see it and was shocked. It was a knife, and there was blood on it. Please, no! I wanted to teach her a lesson, but not for her to die. I never dreamed she'd try to harm herself. I reached into my pocket for my phone, but it was not there. I saw her phone on the nightstand. I dashed around the bed to use her phone to call 911 when I saw a body on the floor. She was staring at it the whole time.

What had she done? Did someone try to break in while I was out? I knelt beside the corpse. The lighting from our lamp was very dim, and I tried to make out who it was. I looked at my wife; she was smiling like she was at peace.

"I truly hope you can forgive me." She grabbed her phone with a bloody hand. "Now, excuse me while I call the police."

I agreed she should call the police. I knew one thing: I'd stand with her. It had to be self-defense. I looked back at the body and thought I recognized him. I looked closer. Yes, I've definitely seen this guy before. My eyes adjusted, and I finally got a good look.

I jumped back. This couldn't be. I looked at the dead man's face again, and then I looked at the bloody knife on the table and then at my wife's bloody hands.

I'm the dead man!