His Body

The body floated right in front of her. How could they not see it? His brown, wavy hair glided over the gentle waves of the lake. His eyes held a cold, distant stare on her. His body was just below the surface. Or was it? Was this his ghost haunting her? Or her vivid imagination creating his shadowy image at her feet? Her mind was racing as she waded through the foggy waters beside the detectives. Was she feeling guilty or just anxious that her darkest secret might be discovered?

Jennifer woke up especially tired that Sunday morning. She had hoped to wake up to the seagulls squawking coming from along the coast but instead, she already could hear him screaming and cursing from the kitchen. It was barely 9 o'clock and he was already drunk. She knew this was going to be one of the tougher days. When Jennifer had met Simon, he was charming and sweet. She had loved his sense of humor and how laid back he was. They married quickly, after only dating for about six months. Within a few weeks, it all changed, his dark side came out. He became a hard man to love. And she tried, she really did try. But day after day, he got meaner and meaner and it became harder and harder to love him.

Jennifer pulled on a pair of old jeans and a tee and walked out to the kitchen, only to be met with the back of his hand on her cheek. "Where the hell have you been?!" he yelled at her. She knew he was already pissed because she wasn't up with breakfast ready for him. He was drunk, angry, and hungry and she was his punching bag like usual. He had been out all night, came home, and started drinking again. "I bet you had all kinds of guys over last night while I was out, didn't you?" Jennifer had become so exhausted hearing this crap that she didn't even respond. Although knife in hand, cutting an orange, she thought of some responses she'd like to act out. She sighed, "It's not worth it. He's not worth it." She cooked up some eggs and toast and put it on the table for him and then walked away. Simon ate the food and then went and passed out on the couch.

Finally some quiet. Jennifer was done. She had reached her limit. She knew if she left, he'd find her. He'd follow her. He'd come after her. She had to do more. She sat at the edge of the bed, eyes closed. Deep breaths. That was it. She knew there was only one way she could be free of him.

Every Sunday afternoon Simon goes fishing at the lake. Jennifer would make him a sandwich to take today and pack it in his cooler with his beer.

Simon woke up from his nap on the couch about noon. Jennifer was in the bedroom. Lord knows doing what. He stomped down the hall, stopping about two steps shy of the door, and hollered to her, "I'm going fishing." Turned back, walked towards the kitchen, grabbed his cooler, and headed out the door.

She took a deep breath, got up off the bed. Put her shoes on. Grabbed her purse and keys and got in the car. She left a note on the counter to keep it from looking suspicious. The note read, "Went to store. Be back. Love, Jennifer." She drove slowly down the gravel road. As she started to approach where he fished she started to shake. "This is best for you," she whispered to herself.

There he was standing along the bridge at the lake, eating the sandwich. Then it happened. He toppled right over the bridge. She slammed on the brakes, put the car in park, and ran over to the lake. Simon was holding his throat with one hand gasping for air, while trying to tread water with the other. She just stood there and stared at him while he flailed around in that icy cold water. She hated him so much. Maybe he would have drowned on his own one of the coming days being as drunk as he was all the time but adding the peanut butter to the sandwich with him being deathly allergic to peanuts, well she needed to speed things along. The drowning in the foggy waters was her cover-up.