Red Night

Tiara stood, staring at the table, proud of herself. She ran her finger over the white table cloth taped with a red strap. The chicken tetrazine took her over an hour to prepare. It was her man’s favourite and was worth the price. She lifted the cover over the dish and savored the aroma.  Everything was set for the night- there shouldn’t be any room for a mistake. It had been a while since she cooked. The last time she did; she had cut herself. Richard had waltzed in for a cup of coffee when he noticed the trails of blood on the floor. Surprised, he rushed at her. He was bothered by the blank expression on her face when he took her hands. Obviously- unaware of what was happening to her. From that day, he stopped her from cooking. Ever. They would rather go to an eatery or order a meal. As she thought about their moments together, she smiled. It took three days to plan the surprise birthday. This was the day.

She went into the bathroom and shower. Looking at the arrays of clothes hanging in the cloak room, she ran her fingers through them. Finally, she settled for a short white gown and threw it on the bed. She took a red boy short pants for an obvious reason- the pants would be conspicuous under the translucent gown. Tiara slipped into the clothes. She stared down at herself in the mirror. Her lips were thickly glossed with a pink lipstick and was bathed in ‘wonderlust’ fragrance. As she was about to put on her necklace she peeped at the clock, it was 7:50pm. Richard always returns home by 8:00pm. Hurriedly, she slipped on her stiletto and ran down the stairs into the dinner. For the second time; she glanced at the meal, the champagne and the ice and removed the cover over the cake before walking over to the stereo. The song reminded her of her college days. She was overwhelmed by the acute nostalgia of those days as she sways around in the room. Richard could never get enough of the sound. A song they both danced to at the senior prom. She cracked her knuckles and sighs. Carefully, she picked a candle and inserted it into the cake. Her phone beeped. She stared at the message. ‘Sorry I won’t be able to make it.’ She reads. She fell on the seat and dropped the phone. There it was. The last thing she was expecting. Her  guess was right. Lately, Richards had been returning late from work and slightly drunk too. Now, a stranger to her. She picked the phone and went through the message for the second time. The phone fell from her shaky hand. Streams of tears flow down her cheek. She threw the cake across the dinner and pounded the table with her fist. Some of the plates fell over and shattered. She ran fingers through her permed hair and let out a wail.  It was a big deal for her- she wanted to show him she wasn’t crazy. The tears washed down her make-up dripping on her gown. This was her chance to make it up to him. It’s been a long time since she felt like the woman she wanted to be. The playlist ended. She ranted towards the stereo with a nothing mind and sat by the stool beside it.

The door creaked. Could he have changed his mind or was it a prank? She thought. She jumped up on her feet and wiped her face but dropped the face towel carelessly on the floor. It was too late to make the table look any decent. She had messed it all up. Quickly she picked up the sweeper. Suddenly, it dawned on her. She stood still. Something was unusual. Usually, Richard would call out to her the instant he walked through the door. 

She dropped the sweeper and crept slowly towards the door, with the hope to catch a glimpse of the person. She saw him threading up the stairs carefully. He was much taller than Richard is, dressed in an all back with a knife in his hand. Her heart skipped. Who would want her dead? She pulled back as quietly as possible, shut the kitchen door and ran to the exit. He heard her footsteps and chased after her. She searched for the key but was no longer in the vase.  Richard had taken the key with him. Tiara tried to pull the exit door open but it was jammed. She could hear the man banging on the kitchen door.

Desperate, she picked up her phone and hid inside a cabinet. The phone screen was broken but she managed to dial Richard’s number. 

The man broke in. She cut the call and kept the phone close to her chest. He snatched the towel from the floor and threw it across the room then turned towards the cabinet. Her phone beeped. The stranger heard the sound. Slowly he walked towards the cabinet whistling as he did. Her heart pounded rhythmically at the knock of his shoe. 

‘Honey I'm home,’ Richard called out to her from the porch. He hung his coat by the doorstep and loose his tie. 

Usually, Tiara  would be standing by the staircase. Richard rushed up the stairs to the bedroom but the room was empty. He dropped this suit-case and went down the stairs.

The man knelt by the cabinet. Tiara peeped at him through the slit. His face was concealed. It was difficult for her to tell who it was but the hood looked familiar. Just as he placed his hands on the cold knob about to open the cabinet, she pushed the door and leapt out. She rammed into the dinning table; everything turned over. Richard heard the sound and ran into the dinning. Tiara picked herself up and ran into Richard at the doorway. She tried to pull him out of the house but he was stiff as a mule. Richard looked into the dinning, the whole room was a mess- with food littering around and shards of broken plates.

‘What happened?’ he asked. She pointed in the direction and looked back. But nobody was there.

‘Someone,’ she stuttered. He came into the dinning as soon as he heard the sound. Anyone exiting through the dinner would have walked into him. He took her to a seat and checked the exit door and windows; they were all locked.

‘No one is here,’ he turned to her. He went to the living room and found it as he had left it. 

‘He broke the door,’ Tiara pointed at the kitchen door. He looked at the door, there was no sign of forced entrance. She looked slightly abashed. She was certain someone was in the room and she had run him over while trying to escape. She walked round the dinning and stood at the spot where he had flung the towel. She walked to the door. Richard was on a call. His back turned to the doorway. ‘She is getting worse,’ Richard said. 

He returned to the kitchen and peered at her with suspicion. ‘Nobody is here with you sweetheart,’ he said.

‘Some…’ she stuttered. He wouldn’t believe her. Nobody does. But she was certain someone had walked in and miraculously walked out. He picked a glass bowl from the cabinet and fetched water from the tap and cleaned her bruises.

‘Have you taken your drugs?’ she squinted an eye with her jaw put forward. She looked away as he cleaned the cut across her forehead. He gazed at her. She felt uncomfortable and looked away. Richard walked over to the first aid box. The bottle was empty. ‘Remind me to get a methylated spirit.’

‘You texted that you ain’t coming home today?’ Richard peeped at her.

‘When did I?’ He smiled. He dabbed the spot with the soaked sterile wool. ‘Where would I be then?’ He smiled- to give her the assurance that he wasn’t planning on leaving her.

‘I messaged you.’ She picked her phone and checked her message. There it was. Her mouth was ajar and dried. 

‘I saw your message and I said that I will be on my way.’