What's Done is Done

It’s a terrible thing to kill someone.  No matter the reason behind the act there is no way to escape one simple fact:  knowingly with premeditation or by accident you ended someone’s life and that someone’s death at your hand is irreversible. Once done there is no atonement or undoing-period. 

Jennifer looked down at Tony’s lifeless body oozing blood from the knife wound in his chest. How did things go so wrong?  I, I didn’t mean to …

All she had been doing was chopping up a potato for tonight’s mashed potato and meatloaf dinner when Tony entered the kitchen.  He was in a funk again.  Her unemployment check was just not enough to pay the bills or mortgage.  He took a job as a Stocker at the grocery store since his real job closed down six months ago.  Two months ago they used all their savings to keep the bills somewhat manageable.  “What a fucking waste of a Master’s Degree,’ he often said over these last four weeks as if she needed to be reminded of that fact.  Her dental assistant job ended over eight months ago. Her associate’s degree along with her dental certificates didn’t hold water against his Masters.  Now neither degree meant shit.  Now her life wasn’t worth the breath her lungs automatically drew in then out. Now her entire existence meant nothing from the moment she plunged the knife into Tony’s chest. 

What happened Jen?  She still didn’t know exactly why she killed Tony. The incident was all wrapped in some type of a dreary fog floating about her mind as she searched her thoughts for an explanation. 

“ I was standing here chopping the potato.  Tony came stomping in. He threw his cap on the floor, went to the frig, pulled out a beer, threw the bottle cap in the sink then stood next to me with his hand on the wooden chopping block. I even joked for him to move his hand unless he wanted one of his fingers in the mashed potatoes, but he must not have heard me.”

“Jen. I’m done. I give up.”

“What are you talking about?  And get that cap out of the sink, you know what happened last time.  It cost us fifty dollars to get the disposal fixed.”

“You’re not listening.  I’m done.”

She stopped chopping and looked hard at him.  They had been here before.  He insisting nothing he did or does will ever get them out of debt or return them to when he did work even despite the disdain he held for the job he held prior for six years with the city.  

“Not one story. Not one screenplay I’ve written in the last year has even gotten a nod.  I should have never quit that job. Facts are facts. I suck as a writer. I’m just a pretend wanna be.”

On and on he went. One beer led to two then three.  He kept hounding her about their lack of money, the bills and how he failed, in his opinion, at being a responsible person and that he must truly be insane to think what he wrote was publishable material.  “I must have been crazy Jen to quit that job.  I thought I’d never say this, but it’s clear now. No matter what I do or how hard I work the cards just aren’t there. It’s like a prophecy fulfilled.”

“And me Tony? What about me?”

He didn’t answer her. It was then she should have walked away after his sixth or eighth beer along with multiple shots of Jack Daniels.  The alcohol was distorting him. Fueling his insecurities while intensifying his inner rage.  But she remained in the kitchen pretending to listen to him while trying to get tonight’s dinner ready.  At one point she remembered walking over to him and running her fingers through his hair saying “Everything will be okay,”  just to appease and calm him down, but she knew deep down it was a lie.  He was right.  

“Damn it Jen.  Do you hear me?  We’re done.”

He was on the verge of tears when he said it. That was the first time he ever used ‘we’ in that statement. It was always ‘I.’ 

She remembered taking the bowl of potato skins and dumping them in the sink paying more attention to Tony’s mood than anything.  And that’s when it happened.  “Yes. I turned on the disposal completely forgetting  Tony had thrown the bottle caps in it. But the potato skins were covering them up.”   

In a matter of seconds  the disposal began to wrench and squeal before coming to a merciful jolting and a screeching halt.  A few seconds later and smoke began to rise from it.  She had burned out the motor. 

“I was upset and angry at myself for being so stupid.”  

Tony had run up to her. She remembered standing in a type of frozen shock as they watched a thin plume of smoke rise from the sink. And that’s when Tony said, ‘Are you that fucking dumb or just lame. This is your fault and you’re paying to get it fixed’ 

What happened next Jen? Think.

“That’s when I grabbed the knife and, and ..”  She stopped herself from saying anything, afraid her words would bring up the image of her swirling around to confront him, but he was too close to her.  The knife plunged into his chest. 

She was very careful as she stepped over Tony’s body not to have her shoes touch the pool of blood seeping onto the tile floor on her way to sitting at the kitchen table.  She plopped down in a chair and covered her eyes with blood soaked hands as if hiding from the reality of her action. 

Several moments passed before she mustered enough courage to uncover her eyes hoping with all her heart to see Tony standing by the sink.  That what she did didn’t happen at all.  But of course that was not the case.  She took a deep breath and kneeled beside his body.  

She placed her ear on his chest.  “Let there be a heart- beat.”  He felt cold and remained so still she shivered.”  She lifted her head and stared down at his eyes that were now clouding over. 

 “Oh my God. Oh my God. What have you done Jen?”  

At that moment she remembered she might be able to save him. “CPR. You dummy. CPR.” She straddled him, clasped her hands together and immediately began pressing down hard on his chest. She heard his rib cage crack as she continued to press down on his chest with all her strength with the base of her palms.   Then she pinched his nose and breathed into his mouth. Press. Breath. Press. Breath. “Please Tony. Please. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” 

She kept applying  CPR until she was exhausted.  It was no use. He was gone. There was nothing she could do. He was dead and she killed him.  She stood up, her eyes swollen with tears and her clothes drenched in blood.  

Why didn’t you call 911 when you stabbed him?  It never occurred to you to call 911 until now?  Why?

She went to the sink, took a washcloth, ran it under the tap of the sink and wiped away her tears.  Lying next to the wooden chop block was her cell phone. She picked it up.

Why Jen. Why?

The word followed her as she made her way from the kitchen to the dining room.  She took a seat at the dining room table and stared down at her cell phone.  She jumped when it came to life with a loud ring tone.   She looked at the phoe’s screen.  It was Kelly, Tony’s mom.  It rang again. 

“Hello.”

“Jen. Where have you been? I tried to call Tony for the last five hours, but he didn’t answer. Is everything all right?”

Jennifer inhaled deeply.  “Tony’s dead. I killed him.” 

“You what?”

“I’m so sorry Mrs. Edwards. I don’t know what happened.  One moment we’re talking and the next, he’s dead.  If I could do anything to take it back I would. If I can make it up to you, I will. I’m..”

“I’m calling the police.”

The line went dead.