I am married to a murderer. You would think, as an attorney, I could have avoided getting tangled up with such a nefarious person, but apparently even I am not immune to the seductive nature of a bad boy. In fact, I was not aware of his true nature when we met, nor even when I married him and bore his offspring. It was not until recent events transpired that I discovered who he really is.
It began with a confession. That’s right, he plainly and blatantly admitted his crime to me. At first I was aghast and horrified. How could he do such a thing? Who was this monster I was married to? He claimed it was merely an accident, but I could read the truth behind his eyes. It was planned. With malice aforethought.
The day in question, I returned to my room after being out in the warm sunshine all day, and threw my belongings on the bed. I ran into the bathroom to take a shower before departing for dinner that night. Little did I know, when I returned to the bedroom that afternoon, what carnage lie ahead. Soon after, the man I so naively married all those years ago, entered the bedroom. And while I was distracted by warm soapy water, he proceeded to commit his nefarious deed. Once his crime was committed, he entered the bathroom and breezily informed me of his actions, apologizing, whilst showing me the remains of his victim. “Man, I sure did crush them,” he proclaimed. “I thought there might have been a chance to fix them, but no way. They are goners.”
What he showed me was the broken pieces of a dear friend. Her body smashed beyond repair. I was heartbroken! She had been big and bold and sassy. I loved her so. But now she was gone.
He says he lost his balance and fell. A likely story that would never hold up in court in front of a jury of his peers. Who just loses their balance and falls down, placing their derriere precisely on a person’s most treasured and loved object, resting innocently on the bed below? The poor unsuspecting victim sitting helplessly as the weapon of her demise plummets down upon her and snuffs out her life in an instant. Unfortunately, she probably did see it coming.
I examined the corpse, hoping there might be a way to save her. Some last ditch effort to revive her once glorious soul. But alas, she was beyond repair. He crushed the life out of her when he crashed down upon her. There was no hope. No breath to be blown into her. No going back.
“I’ll get you a new pair,” he blithely said. As if that could make it all better. Not even realizing how those words crushed my soul. Obviously, I would need another. I could not go without. Not in this place, not at this time. But she could never be replaced. Not in my mind, nor my heart. It would just be a new one. That’s all it could ever be.
We bought them from a street side cart in front of the hotel. They will do for now. But they will never be the same as the ones before. My old friend. I guess I will always have my memories of her. And the pictures. Of course, there’s always the pictures.
Please join me in a moment of silence as we all remember the good times . . . and miss my dear friend. R.I.P. Sunglasses.