almost okay

SHERMAN WHISTLES WHILE HE WORKS
Chapter Five: The Dirty Deed Is Done

After parking her silver Neon in front of the garage, she killed the lights and got out, talking on her cell phone. I couldn't make out what she was saying, but it sounded like light conversation, her voice colored with happy half giggles. Damn. If she talked until she was inside, I wouldn't be able to pull this off tonight, would need to spend another day in this shit hole town and another night in that dump where I was staying. I held my breath, crossed my sweaty fingers and waited.

As she approached I could hear her better. “Alright then,” she said. A pause. “No, I don't need anything.” She had stopped and was looking up at the sky as though she were trying to identify constellations. I could see the creamy expanse of her throat as she twisted back and forth and listened to whoever was on the other end. “Okay, then...Listen, I'm home now, so I'm gonna let you go.” After another pause: “Talk to you tomorrow, Mom....Love you, too. No, I'll call you. I promise. 'Bye.”

I grabbed the extension cord in both hands, made circular motions with rigid fingers as I wound the cord around each palm several times, then pulled it taut leaving about eighteen inches of cord in between clamped fists. As she stepped past the bush I made my move, reached over her head and pulled back hard, taking her off her feet and letting her weight drop while tightening the cord around her slim neck. She never made a sound. I dragged her back behind the bush as she slapped at the ground with her left hand and reached back to scratch me with the other. I managed to keep my face from getting clawed, but she brought her left elbow up and banged me hard in the balls. I grunted but held on. The cord dug into my fingers as I pulled it even tighter and she really started to slow down.

Now came the hard part. I loosened the cord on her neck just a tad, just enough to let her get some of her senses back, but not enough so she could make any noise. Then I leaned in, my face to one side of her head, my lips to her ear, and whispered: “Sorry, but Little Papi says goodbye.” As per my instructions, it was the last words the poor girl heard in this world. I pulled the cord tight again, so tight my fingers got numb.

After she'd stopped moving altogether, I dragged her closer to the house and put her face down on the lawn, stepped on the back of her head and tightened the cord another inch or so, wrapped it around again for good measure, then tied a series of knots to keep it from loosening. It probably wasn't necessary, but I would have hated for her to come to halfway to the grave. That would have been more cruel than a quick, easy death in my book. Besides, it's just the way I am. When I leave the house I can't just turn off the coffee maker. I have to actually touch the pot to make sure it's cool. I was just making sure she was cool. She was.

I pulled out one of the trash bags, quietly opened it by sticking my arms inside, then rolled the body up in the fetal position and worked it into the bag head first. As I had pushed her knees towards her chest I heard a long release of gas as her bowels emptied and the front of her jeans turned dark with urine. I held my breath and kept going, trying not to gag. Luckily she was a fairly small thing, no more than one-fifteen...one-twenty, tops. I had to rock the body back and forth on the ground as I gradually inched the bag up underneath, but in a minute or so she was inside. I cinched the top of the bag, opened another one and then double-bagged the body. I picked up her purse, took all the cash and credit cards, grabbed her car keys, then dumped the purse behind the bush.

I peeled off the canvas gloves and put them in my pocket, went over to her car, started it and backed slowly down the drive with the headlights off, then popped the trunk. It was an awkward bundle, but the bags held up without splitting and I managed to get the body in the trunk fairly easily, got back in the car, turned on the lights and backed down the driveway, then out into the street. I pulled up behind my rental van, retrieved the shovel and the end cutters, then drove her car off and out of the neighborhood. Twenty minutes later I was parked in the woods off US-30, lost in the inky blackness of the humid night, the sound of the crickets swelling almost loud enough to drown out my sobs and the horrible loud thumping of my broken heart. I could taste the salt from my tears as they rolled over my cheeks and clung inside my mustache.