The B-Side

TAPE 1

If you’re listening now, happy anniversary, my darling!

I just discovered this in his room. He’s sleeping now, as I speak.

I love you more and more each day.

He apparently thinks that cassette tapes are romantic.

Hopefully, this comes as a surprise!

Regardless, this behaviour is highly unprecedented.

I wanted to do something special.

I should probably report it. There’s protocol, after all.

A symbol of my undying affection for you.

They would want to know of any side effects such as these.

So I recorded my memories of our relationship milestones.

On the other hand, there is nothing left of me--the real me.

Just like our love, these cassettes will last forever.

No trace. No evidence. And no one will ever find this.

We will treasure them for years to come.

These tapes will likely be destroyed soon anyway.

So, my love, let me tell you a story.

Let this be my account of how everything really went down.

TAPE 2

I remember the day we met. 

I recall the day we first took action.

It was at some party or other.

A political house party, to be precise. 

I had never seen you before.

I knew everything about him.

A mysterious and beautiful woman.

A fugitive of high society, an heir to millions gone radically astray.

My life was about to change for the better.

Our client sought to bring him to a quiet end.

You blew me away with your intelligence.

Our intelligence told me exactly how to deal with him.

Right away, I felt that we knew each other. 

I had been studying his file for weeks.

There was something about you I couldn’t quite describe.

But I had a secret weapon up my sleeve.

Your charm intoxicated me.

And I was the first one to ever implement it. 

From that very first conversation, I was already yours.

The first test was more successful than we could have imagined.

We went on a few dates.

As were the tests that followed.

A new relationship.

Soon we had ourselves a promising new euphoriant.

But it soon became more.

A weapon, no less.

I fell in love with you.

By week three, his dosage leveled out. He was critically dependent.

And I told you so.

Based on his chemically induced ramblings, we soon came up with a nickname for the drug.

I love you. So much.

My Everything. 

With my whole heart, and more than I can ever say.

For dethroning the stone statues without even cracking the marble.

TAPE 3

The proposal.

The proposition.

The perfect bride.

The perfect bribe.

To make you mine. Forever.

To take him out. For good.

I was a nervous wreck.

It was an assassination.

So much was at stake.

Make no mistake.

But it was worth it.

Which is why the price was so high.

From the moment I first saw you, I knew.

From the first hit, he had been hooked.

You were special.

I am no seductress.

My future wife.

I am just the vessel. The needle. The knife.

My everything.

I administer the poison. The rest is up to his fantasies.

A life without you is not worth living.

Because when a person is content, they’re complacent. They stop striving.

I got down on one knee.

They don’t stand for anything, march for any cause, run for any office.

Will you take my name?

Their name means nothing.

Will you give me your hand?

They pose no threat.

Will you make me the happiest man in the world?

They have no idea.

TAPE 4

The wedding.

For me, the end of the exciting part.

When you’re listening to this, one year ago.

The day my freedom shrunk to the role of a--literal--lifetime.

Something old.

He came from old money.

Something new.

Money he had been pouring into new politics, new radical ideas.

Something borrowed.

I knew I was on borrowed time, that we had to act sooner or later.

Something blue.

To ensure our success, without spilling any of that precious blue blood.

That gorgeous white dress. 

That blank white canvas I was forced to become.

That veil, that flowing train.

The train had left the station. The plan was in motion. There was no out.

Your hair was woven into a knot at the crown of your head. 

It was my coronation, the queen to the new king of fools. 

You made your way down the aisle. 

No longer a whole man, but an island. I just had to survive on his shores.

You reached the altar.

His perception was so distorted, already altered beyond remedy.

My heart raced.

His heart erased any lingering sense of logic, ambition, or doubt.

I was the luckiest groom in the world.

He was so easily groomed.  

Your eyes gleamed.

My eyes gleaned all I needed to know about the coming situation.

Your smile was radiant.

I bared my teeth, so I would not bare my soul.

From this day forward.

This is it.

For better, for worse.

Better for him, worse for his cause. Better for my cause, worse for me.

For richer, for poorer.

No need to worry about poorer--unless you mean mental wealth.

In sickness and in health.

Nor health--his disease is beyond treatment.

To love and to cherish.

Empty words for empty minds. Like his, and now, mine.

Till death do us part.

Death truly is the best part of this arrangement.

As long as we both shall live.

Once I outlive him, I am free to disappear.

You took me as your husband.

I may have to husband my resources.

I took you as my wife.

I may need to play this role for years. 

I kissed the bride.

One year ago, I sealed the deal.

I can’t believe it’s been a year.

It has been a numb kind of torture.

It feels like so much longer.

That, we can agree upon.

You have been the perfect wife to me.

It seems like it, doesn’t it? And yet . . . 

What do you remember about our wedding day?

A doubt which compelled me to slip something into that last slice.

I would love to hear your side of the story.

Something that has been preserved in the freezer for almost a year now.

Our first anniversary is going to be wonderful.

Something more potent, far more more merciful than any drug.

I just know it.

Tomorrow’s the day. It all comes and goes so . . . quickly.

I can’t wait for our future together.

Maybe, just maybe, we can have our cake and eat it too.