Bad Medicine

Bad Medicine   by Patrick Harding 

By the time Bill found out Giselle’s secret, it was far too late. 

Her ad had sounded promising but Bill hadn’t gotten too optimistic. After all, how many women had he met online that weren’t anything that they had advertised? So many had either refused to supply a picture or had supplied a pic from years ago when time had been kinder to their bodies. Some had even supplied a picture of a model that clearly wasn’t them. 

Giselle’s ad showed a beautiful, tall brunette on an exotic beach. The difference was that she was holding a sign that read “This really is me, Giselle!” Bill had laughed at that. Her personal details had been somewhat vague: psychiatrist, loves outdoors and cuddling by the fire, looking for someone with a good heart. That’s it: someone with a good heart.  

Bill had emailed her and she had replied: “Hi Bill, it’s nice to hear from you but I am not someone who believe is texting to get to know someone. Let’s meet?” 

Bill had liked that. Most women wanted to text or email for weeks before feeling actually comfortable enough to meet at a public place. Usually it was a lot of time invested to find out there was zero chemistry when you actually met the potential partner.  

At Starbucks, Bill had arrived a prudent fifteen minutes early as usual. Giselle arrived punctually. Bill stood up as she approached the table. She was simply stunning...actually more gorgeous in person. Tall, creamy caramel skin, brunette with hair cascading down to the small of her back, with green eyes that seemed almost luminescent.  

Until that moment in his thirty-five-year-old life, Bill had not believed in love at first sight.  

They had spoken for three hours. The entire time, he could not take his eyes of her eyes. And Giselle’s cool, confident gaze held him the entire time, never looking away herself. They had agreed to meet for dinner the following weekend.  

Bill had gone home to his apartment feeling almost sick to his stomach. His familiar anxieties had kicked in causing volcanic eruptions of acid in his stomach. What the hell does she see in me? he thought as he crawled into bed. Bill was pudgy and overweight. HIs hairline had started receding five years ago and he would likely be completely bald by the time he was forty.  

A man with a good heart.  

Is this really all she wanted? She could have any man she wanted. Bill had fallen asleep with deliriously wonderful dreams of the two of them on that same beach from the online photo. 

They had met for dinner and things progressed quickly from there. Giselle had a sense of confidence about her that Bill hadn’t seen before in any woman he had ever met. Before he could chicken out, he had blurted out over dessert, “Do you want a nightcap at my place?” 

Giselle laughed. “Sure, but be honest: By nightcap you mean Let’s go back to my place and make wild passionate love. Tell me I’m wrong, Bill?” 

Bill felt his cheeks get warm. He was not used to such frankness. “You’re not wrong, Giselle. I want to make wild, passionate love to you. From the moment I saw you actually it was all I could do not to rip your clothes off.” 

“That likely would have gotten you kicked out of Starbucks for sure!” 

Back in his bedroom, she had slipped out of her black dress and she lay back on his bed in her lingerie, her arms crossed behind her head. Bill reached for the lights, deathly afraid of what her reaction would be to his imperfect, hobbit like naked body. 

“Leave the lights on, Bill.” Giselle said. “I want to see you undress.” He hesitated then complied. The love making had been slow and sweet and totally unlike anything Bill had ever experienced.  

The weeks turned into months and a year later they got married- shotgun style in Vegas living in her upscale house. Bill had to pinch himself daily. Bill merely a high school science and math teacher and never would have been able to afford the house but Giselle obviously was well compensated in her job as a psychiatrist.  

Life was good in the following years except for one thing: Giselle had made it clear that she didn’t want kids. Bill had asked why not. 

“Life is perfect for me now,” Giselle said, embracing him with her cool flesh. “Let’s not talk about it. All I want...all I need is my Bill.”  

Bill hadn’t pressed. Whatever her reasons were, she was right. Everything was perfect.   

Another blissful year passed. Bill still felt like he was seeing Giselle for the first time. He never lost those butterflies when he saw her. He never took her beauty or love for granted. He had long stopped wondering what she saw in him. 

Then it all went to hell. 

One night in mid-April, Bill awoke to find Giselle missing from his side. She was not in the bedroom suite washroom. He glanced and his phone and noticed it was 3:15 am.  

“Giselle?” Bill called out into the darkness. “Honey? Where are you?” There was no answer so Bill got up and walked downstairs thinking perhaps she was in the kitchen fixing a snack although to his knowledge she had never done so before.  

The kitchen was empty. “Honey?” Bill called out again. Then he heard a scraping sound coming from their vast backyard. Bill stepped out through the French patio doors. Under the gloom of the semi full moon light, he saw his wife digging a large hole. 

“A little late for gardening isn’t it?” Bill called out. 

Giselle didn’t even acknowledge whether she heard him or not and kept digging. He could only see her from the waist up as she was madly throwing dirt out of the hole, creating a massive pile of dark earth and clay. 

As Bill got closer, he saw the body. It was on the other side of the pile that she had created. A young man with a bullet hole in his head.  

“What...! What have you done?” Bill whispered. 

Giselle answered without looking up, still shoveling. “Are you going to help or just stand there gaping?” 

Bill backed away horrified. He started toward their house. “I have to call the police,” he mumbled. 

“Stop. Wait, Bill!” Giselle yelled and got out of the hole. She walked up to Bill and placed her hands on his shoulders, staring at him fiercely with her perfect green eyes. “Listen to me, Bill. It’s not what you think. This man attacked me in the parking lot after work tonight. He tried to rape me, Bill.” 

“What! Oh God! Are you ok? Why didn’t you call the cops? How long have you had a gun?” 

“In my line of work, you have to be careful. I never told you about the gun because I never thought it was important. I can take care of myself. He tried to rape me Bill so I put a bullet in his head. There’s no stupid cameras in our parking lot so I’m not calling the police and have to go through all that humiliation. Never again.” 

Bill was reeling. “’Never again’? You ‘ve been attacked before?” 

Giselle nodded. “Yes, Bill. That’s why I don’t want kids. I can’t have any kids. When I was 16, I was raped so viciously it left me infertile. Now are you going to help bury this creep or not?” 

She walked back to the hole, jumped in and continued shoveling.  

“So, you what? Threw him in your car and drove him here?” Bill asked. He did not who this woman was.  

“More or less,” Giselle grunted. “The real question is are you going to help me or call the cops? Because if you call the cops you and I are done. You need to know I love you and won’t let this ever come between us. How much do you love me, Bill?” 

Bill walked to their garden shed and found another shovel.