The Bread Breaking Incident

The reigning mood at the table is supposed to be tense considering what we had just done; it was most definitely a crime before Heaven and earth, and now we are silently eating the food that she prepared at the table that she had once sat at like we don’t have a sixty percent chance of becoming wanted criminals

It is not like I want to talk about her, I never once did, but given our history and these feelings that gnaw at my insides for you, I figured you would be all over me by now, showering me with the love and gratefulness that was mine and you to gave her. I mean, I literally saved you

Instead we just sit here at the dinner table of the woman whose body we just disposed of, saying absolutely nothing to each other

I should have walked out back through the door when I saw the scene before me after you had called me with absolute fear and trembling in your voice like a child who had just discovered a scary movie, but that pleading and lost look in your eyes, the ones that kept me in our toxic relationship for five years and the one that would not let me move on even after you married her, stopped me in my tracks, leaving me feeling obligated to help you

I’m not a particular genius but I have probably read way too many murder books and watched too many crime movies to be able to tell which holes to fill to keep the investigators off trail and the steps to take when your ex kills his wife over a heated dinner argument. But I reiterate to myself every few minutes that I am no genius since we have only a forty percent chance of getting away with this by my calculations 

You won’t tell me what it is you argued with her about, but I’d give my pinky finger in a bet that she found out some of those nasty secrets you keep from everyone in your life behind that stupid angelic smile of yours and those hauntingly calm eyes. You do your best to mask the monster within ever since you discovered it was no longer under your childhood bed, and I must admit that you do a fine job of it

She must have confronted you over dinner after she placed the food on the table and stood over the sink to wash her hands, probably spending way too long at that because she could not bear to look you in the eye while she said things she would rather not believe about you

But for you, it would have been the perfect opportunity. Because behind her would no longer sit the man she loved, but a monster who would do anything for his dirty laundry to stay unperturbed in its hiding place without any eyes on them, not even hers

So she possibly could not hear over the her own loud sobbing when your animalistic senses took over and your brown eyes shone dark in your loss of mental awareness. You had most likely grabbed at the same knife she used in cutting up the vegetables and you ran it into her side

She must have fallen with the utmost of shock running through her because her eyes still lay wide open when I shut them for her after I came in to play hero in shit that doesn't even concern me. You say she ran into your knife, but I do not know how she could have run into your knife two times considering the second stab wound that looked like you had to make sure she actually dies

I had sat calmly at first in the living room and went over the details of what I had seen and what movie or book I had read that would best fit the scenario, I was going to try to duplicate what I had internalized all those hours of shying away from people’s eyes and keeping to myself

After deciding that it was safe to dispose of the body after I was sure she hadn't called anyone that could verify that she had called from home and made sure that there weren't any security cameras on any roads that lead to their house to ascertain that she had in fact come home this night, I created my own story

In the next hour, you would call two of her closest friends and ask of her whereabouts, making sure to chip in that she was probably still mad at you about a misunderstanding you had this morning about being ready to handle a child, knowing that her eagerness to bear a child was her weakness and her friends all know this

So while we sit eating, after we had wiped and cleaned the kitchen totally and other placed the blood may have spilled to, I watch you cautiously for any signs of regret but your eyes still look detached from the world like the time you kicked my dog till it died

Stupidly, that was what it took for our relationship to come to an end even when I knew that I should have put an end to it a long time ago, and probably not even let someone as deranged as you roam freely

It’s terribly uneasy for me to admit that her cooking could make even me fall for her but unconsciously, I remember a thing Oscar Wilde said, “after a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one's own relations” -and I know that it is all it takes for me to forgive you

But I know you can never forgive yourself for letting your secrets out in the open, for reacting that way without thought and for calling me up for my help because in the end, I am the only person besides yourself that you can trust

So I don’t know who will come for me first today after I leave this place. Maybe the police after having found a loose end witness who’d seen us burying the body because there are always eyes even when we don’t know. Or you, when you realize that I probably know way too much. But either way, I hope it’s after my victim’s food is digested and my guilt is watered down