Nine Minutes

Wes stood in the kitchen, his eyes glazed over and the residue of a smile unable to fade from his face, he sunk deeper in thought. The only light was from the open microwave and even that small glow illuminated more filth than anyone would want to see in a day.

The dishes were piled in the sink and half-filled coffee mugs were lined with gnats. The heaviest thing in the room was the stench, and Wes, not having a substantial meal in years, out of curiosity, ate the crusted splatter from the microwave with the large piece he could peel off now between his fingertips. 

He lowered the brownish-red, quarter-sized disc from his nose. How did it get to this point? Pizza sauce? Spaghetti?

Inside of his mouth, Wes explored the creases between his teeth licking both plaque and burnt particles, and at the instant that the acrid flavor returned, so did the memory which brought back the smile. 

Claudia sat on the kitchen island, phone in one hand and a jar of sun-dried tomatoes in the other. Her hair was tied back and her face was twisted in confusion. 

"How the hell would I know how any tomatoes would make her noona sing?" 

Claudia continued reading as she weeded through the paragraphs for the ingredients for a perfect Italian tomato sauce when Wes walked in. Hearing the door slam, she slid off of the countertop to catch her lover at the door. 

"Hey, babe! I didn’t hear you get...," Claudia froze when she saw Wes’ large frame fill the doorway with darkness and his stoic expression fill her body with fear.

His luggage dropped to the floor. Thud! "Dinner’s not ready yet?"

“I—I wanted to try something new, something that was special for today,” Claudia ran up to the duffle bag, avoiding eye contact, and wheeled it through to the living room. “I didn’t expect you to be back this fast,” she added. 

Wes pulled out the bar stool from the kitchen island and sat looming over the raw ingredients spread out over the counter. One ingredient caught his eye, poison, not in its apparent form. He heard the bathroom door open and shut. 

Claudia rushed back into the kitchen. Wiping her freshly washed hands on her half apron that she’d just tied around her waist.

“What are you—.” 

“How was your trip from—,” Claudia’s bottom lip trembled and quickly shifted into a smile. “I’m excited to hear about your trip. You look so strong. Did you work out before you left?” She was shaking and looking all over Wes’ face for some expression. 

Wes, still looking at the scattered spices and herbs, exhaled through his nose, “What are you making?”

“Oh, yeah,” Claudia began to glow, not much but there was a little life trickling into her rigid body and for the first time she made eye contact with Wes. Again, Claudia felt the rebellion in her gut and as if it were planned, she finally heard what Wes had already heard before her, footsteps.

Wes and Claudia locked eyes and let the moment drag by at a soul-searing pace. Claudia began to cry but Wes felt no urge to wipe away a single tear. Her cheeks could be tattooed with mascara from this day because this face, is how he would remember her. 

The front door opened and closed and the smell of Wes’ shower gel wafted in. It stung. 

“Pack your things and leave tonight,” Wes said sternly.

Claudia sunk into herself and covered her face with her hands. Twice, she’d been forgiven and never asked to even apologize. Mercy was out of reach after a third time.

Claudia had nowhere to go, a fact that she reminded herself of every day. She had her car, clothes, and a credit card that Wes paid. Demetri, the man who just walked out had a family of his own. Another guy she was seeing made it clear that she was only a convenient body. Instead of crying, instead of begging, or making any excuse for the pain she’d caused, Claudia lashed out. 

“You deserve this, for real. You’re so easy to cheat on, Wes. You’re so boring, so unbearably boring, that I have the most fun from hurting you,” she pushed over the wine glass on the counter, breaking the glass and spilling less than a sip onto the white marble surface. 

Wes, felt his chest go cold on the inside as he could only watch the woman he loved thrust dagger after dagger into him. The thoughts flooded his mind, casting a numbing cloud that barely held him in a conscious state. His heart pumped violently in his chest and he held on to the counter with his left hand while rigorously searching through the kitchen drawer with his right. 

He threw envelopes, batteries, and wires until he found his light and pack of cigarettes. He stormed out of the sliding doors and onto the patio. The summer air was cool on his skin. The flood of hurt, sadness, and hate came in waves as the words replayed. 

This was exactly four years ago to the day and since that night, Wes, for very good reasons, had not been the same man. Once filled with life and love, existing as an altar at which the essence of being human could be nurtured, the kitchen was now damned to be a wasteland.

The house had been nearly untouched since that day. His parents had gifted him after graduation but he’d been in the city a few miles away. 

Wes’ gaze fell back to the poison, the jar of sun-dried tomatoes. Claudia loved them but he was allergic so they weren’t enjoyed frequently, at least not when he was home. He lifted the crust disc back to his lips. Again, he exhaled a chuckle. He could not dive from that height. He tossed the dried tomato sauce to the floor.

“What am I doing?” 

Wes trudged to the living room and plopped down on the sofa. Gnats and flies flew up all around him and roaches scurried from the crevasses, some crawling on him. He flicked them off. 

“It’s not time to eat me yet,” he said to his legion of dinner guests who he was convinced could sense that their grandest meal would be arriving soon. This idea of death, physical death, was blurred. It was hard to make out relief from fear but hope promised an answer. 

There was a knock at the door, but that was another thing that could be ignored. Well, it could be until the keys jingled and the door swung open hitting the doorstop and bouncing back. 

“Whew! Sorry to burst in here! I have got to pee, honey!” 

It was Wes’ mom, Janice, and his dad Curtis in tow. 

Wes sat up quickly looking at his parents and the mess. His first instinct was to begin grabbing clothes from the floor but a flash of yellow and black in the far corner caught his eye. It was too late. 

“Don’t clean up just because we’re here! Didn’t do it in my house that’s for sure,” Curtis laughed at his panicking son. 

“I didn’t know you were coming. I would’ve—,” Wes could feel his throat tighten and his head swell. 

“Put on the TV,” Janice yelled just before closing the door to the bathroom. 

Curtis walked into the kitchen and Wes jumped up to stop him. 

“Dad, don’t go in there. It’s not clean,” Wes said. 

“Listen to your mom, son. She likes to have the television on while she cooks. I’m gonna knock out this kitchen,” Curtis smiled and winked. “Better choose a show before we end up watching Hallmark movies.”

Wes smiled and grabbed his father in his arms and Curtis embraced his son. 

“I know you didn’t hug your dad before me!” 

Janice stood in the living room with the remote in her hand. 

“We are too late,” Curtis whispered. 

Wes and Janice met and as Janice wrapped her arms around her son, he was unexpectedly thin which made it harder for her to keep her composure. Still, she rested her head on his chest and he leaned into his mother as the weight he carried for so many months felt lighter with every breath. 

“Happy birthday, baby. You are without a doubt, a good man.” 

Tears. Tears and heaving up the anguish of betrayal and rage. Wes could not stop even if he felt the need to do so but he was safe. He was deeply loved and for the first time in a long time, he felt some semblance of peace. 

The air held tightly to the pungent scent of death and neglect but it was dissipating with Curtis and Janice busily cleaning Wes’ home. The pair tackled every room while Wes slept soundly on the sofa with very few insects lingering or living. It had been four hours since his parents arrived. 

The second load of laundry was running. The dishes were washed and away. The bathrooms were spotless and the refrigerator was cleaned and restocked with some of Wes’ favorite foods. And, although the sharp notes of bleach and cleaning solutions saturated the atmosphere, the savory aroma of flank steak, buttery mashed potatoes, and steamed broccoli blanketed the abode with that missing element, family. 

Wes woke to laughter and hushed tones of joy. Falling back into the realization that his parent's arrival was not one of the many dreams he’d had, Wes processed the voices he heard. 

“Porsha?”

He jolted up and quickly made his way to the kitchen wiping the drool from around his mouth. 

Porsha jumped up from the kitchen table, her smile radiating warmth and excitement! “Wes!”

Wes hurried over and wrapped his arms around Porsha lifting her off her feet. He held her so tightly and she couldn’t help but laugh at his tremendous expression. They’d known each other for over 20 years and only fell out of contact after Claudia’s decree that the friendship would be an issue. 

“Thank you, Porsha. I owe you everything—,”

“Nope. None of that. You are the only reason I got through law school,” Porsha interrupted. 

“You can thank her while we eat dinner,” Janice said as she stood proudly by the meal she prepared. “And look at this cake Porsha got you.”

Wes put Porsha down and took a moment to take in the smells of the food. The flank steaks were sliced over a bed of rice and topped with a spicy, chimichurri. The roasted, garlic broccolini was vivid with a robust green. The dinnerware was out complete with dessert plates for the three-tier hummingbird cake with southern, buttercream, and sprinkled with walnuts and drizzled in caramel. 

The table was a staple to the true meaning of family for Wes and every component was so thoughtfully constructed, that the white envelope, was embossed with an ivory pattern.

Seated across from him, Porsha saw that Wes noticed the envelope.

“That’s for you. It doesn’t get you back the time lost, but it should make moving forward a little easier,” she said beaming with joy. 

We took the envelope in his hand. On the front “Happy Birthday! You are loved.” was written in black ink in Porsha’s handwriting. 

Wes ran his finger across the envelope. It was too thin to be a card. He remembered that night he came home to Claudia’s infidelity. He remembered seeing the red-tinged water cover the floor, flowing from the tub. Blood sprayed all over the room and Claudia’s eyes were wide open and her mouth agape as if she marveled at the work she created. From the gash along her neck, she was dead. 

It was a horrible sight, but it is not how he would remember Claudia. After seeing her in the tub, he closed the door and walked outside to call an ambulance. No matter how many times he told the police he was innocent, they only prodded for one scenario after another. The sentencing was 15 years for voluntary manslaughter. 

“Open it, son,” Curtis blurted with excitement.

“Let him take his time, Curtis,” Janice snapped, eyes wide with anticipation. 

Wes opened the envelope and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first one was an apology letter from Claudia’s family who knew about her many transgressions. The second, was a physical ray of hope, the expungement. 

“It’s all over, Wes,” Porsha said barely able to contain her excitement. The three clapped and laughed while Wes took in the moment. He knew anything he said would not be enough to show his gratitude. Porsha had saved his life with limited resources but it was one video from a neighbor's door camera that sealed the deal. 

The camera showed Wes on the patio and in the corner, a sliver of the bathroom window could be seen when the bathroom light turned on. Between the time Wes went inside and the police arrived, it would not be enough time to over-fill the tub, even with something of Claudia’s mass inside. That took nine minutes and seventeen seconds every time. The ambulance arrived under eight minutes after the call was placed. 

Wes’s mouth was open as he tried to find the words to say.

“You look like you’re gonna eat the dam paper,” Curtis jested

“Behave,” Janice scolded, swatting her hand at her husband. 

Porsha smiled and waited for Wes’ reaction. 

“How?” Wes asked. 

“I told you. Your water pressure sucks,” Porsha teased. “All I had to do was convince your neighbor that I didn’t think she was a pervert for having cameras pointed at your house.”

Wes squinted his eyes. “Yeah, but how?” 

Porsha, taking in her moment smiled even bigger. 

“It was you. You ran cold water in the tub,” Porsha stated in her attorney tone. 

“Your water heater is old and after decades of build-up, the water runs slower. Every time we ran the tests for evidence, we used hot water. I did the same thing in a bunch of houses with older water heaters. On average, there is a one-minute difference,” Porsha leaned back while Janice plated her food. 

Wes could only look at Porsha looking for loopholes or some way this could fall apart. 

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, Wes. Anybody would have blacked out in a moment like that. Not everybody has family and friends to look out for them,” Curtis chimed in. 

“This letter was from her mom-,” Wes asked. 

“Her sister. She knew about all the guys. One of them was her husband,” Porsha said.

“Greg? No, Craig,” Wes replied. Porsha nodded. 

“She believed Claudia was capable of taking her own life after it had torn them apart. She partially blames herself but her saying that helped us too.”

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” Janice suggested. 

Wes sat at the table, his eyes glazed over in disbelief. He raised the fork to his mouth. On the end was a succulent cut of steak and a tender stalk of broccolini.

“It’s a good thing you did it,” Curtis said breaking the silence. “I probably would have been next on her list.”