THE TUB

PASSION AND SHAME TORMENTED ME, RAGE MINGLED WITH THE GRIEF OF KNOWING...

Hello there.

My name is David. If you are reading this, I find that peculiar because I am probably dead. Very dead. But, nevertheless, I will tell you this depressing story – if you will let me. All I want from you is your attention, for only six pages.

The sun was slowly setting on an evening in late April as Eric drove hastily down the freeway in a shiny, lime-green Lamborghini convertible—with April by his side. I don’t know who buys lime-green; what an ugly fucking colour. The hour was quickly approaching seven, the top was down, April’s hair flying in the wind, and the night sky was unevenly lit. It was as though a large blood-orange had exploded violently across the sky.

Eric was driving while April enjoyed the distant view of downtown Los Angeles. There were palm trees silhouetted in sight, and the skyscrapers appeared taller than the sun.

Eric had three simple rules while driving: one, no screaming; two, no jumping up and down in your seat; and three, no back-seat driving. He especially enforced the third one. Eric was crazy but undoubtedly serious. The roads were near empty, the air mild and fresh, and the sun was just above his eyes. Conditions were nearly perfect.

Eric pressed his foot down harder onto the accelerator — all the way to the floor. Talk about flooring it. He quickly changed gears and zoomed past the one car driving alongside them.

He approached the second exit perilously. He screamed at April, “Hold on!” and she grabbed the seat belt, holding on for dear life. The nylon tightened around her waist and shoulders. Eric veered off of the highway.

He drove recklessly into town—what the town was called; neither knew because they couldn’t read the signs. Eric sped through the streets, moving at nearly triple the speed limit.

April was about to break the first rule…

She screamed, “Eric! slow down!.”

He turned to her and yelled vehemently, “What did I tell you before we got in the car, huh? What did I fucking tell you?.”

And then, the second rule…

April jumped up in her seat, turned towards him and pointed her index finger straight at his crooked nose.

“Don’t you yell at me. All I want is for both of us to get home safely; there is no need to show off in front of me, Eric,” she said sternly. Eric appeared frustrated once again.

“I can’t believe it,” he said softly as he began to slow down.

There was a short moment of silence. Then:

“Can’t believe what?”

“I can’t believe you.”

“What?”

“I can’t believe you broke my second and third rule at the same time,” he said calmly but with utmost disappointment.

The sky faded further into nothingness. The palm trees, skyscrapers, and night were changing — and not for the good of the day.

Time was the only thing passing them by at this point. The blood-orange colour in the sky faded into a dark abyss as they drove through a neighbourhood. April looked off to her right, revealing a conspicuous, thin red mark.

Eric drove slowly onto a recently paved driveway. The driveway was black, like coal, and there wasn’t a single scuff mark, puddle, or splatter of bird shit on its surface. Eric put the car in park, pulled the key out of the ignition, used a small, three-button remote to put the top down, and finally stepped out of the vehicle. They walked up the driveway in silence. The outside of the house was shaped like an Allen Key, and the front door was tall, black, and had a long, stylish-looking metal door handle. Whoever designed this house had a stick up their ass, and whoever bought it, clearly, had more money to spend than the average person. They approached the door and climbed the front steps. They went inside, pulled off her shoes, which were flashy pink in colour, and walked with him into the living area.

This was Eric’s house, and the interior was stunning. There was a beautifully constructed double-winding staircase that hit you right in the face as soon as you stepped in and between the staircases was a brightly lit chandelier hanging from a tall ceiling. April’s beautiful blue eyes glistened in the light and illuminated the hallway.

Eric stepped into the living area and sat comfortably in one of his white leather chairs. The living room was spacious. They sat across from one another and stared into each other’s eyes. April flipped her hair, showing off her sexy exterior. She was perfect. Eric thought it too. That’s why she’s here with him. She had flowing blonde hair, beautiful breasts—not too big and not too small, the kinds that fit perfectly in your hands– and lavish thighs that fit perfectly into a tight pair of dark blue jeans. April was gorgeous. Eric, on the other hand, was not the most attractive man. He had a crooked nose, dark brown hair, a dark moustache, and an awkward inset pair of brown eyes, one darker than the other.

“Do you drink scotch?” he asked after that long moment of silence.

“Of course I do,” she said almost sarcastically.

A genuine smirk emerged slowly upon Eric’s face.

“Alright then, that was easy,” he said. “How do you prefer it?”

“A splash of water, please,” she answered softly as he got up from his chair and left the room.

Soon after, Eric returned with two tumbler glasses, each filled to the bottom line with a light amber-coloured beverage. He placed the glasses down on the marble table in front of them and took a seat. April delicately picked up the glass and placed her nose near the rim. She inhaled lightly. The scotch smelled like vanilla with a hint of orange.

April gazed across the room. The space was dimly lit, quaint – an electric fireplace crackled in the background, creating an undeniably romantic ambience. A tall silver lamp rested beside April’s chair.

“You have a nice place.”

“I know,” Eric responded awkwardly. Was that the right thing to say? He sips his scotch, considering.

She took another short sip of her scotch.

“Glen Kinchie?” April asked, guessing the brand of the scotch. Eric lifted his glass in her direction, praising her. He then placed his glass down on the marble as April bit her lip seductively.

” So? what do you wanna do tonight, Eric?” she said elegantly. His face transformed into a blush – turning a blood-red colour. Quite a difference from the white, chalk-like complexion that April has come to know.

“I don’t know,” he responded, “But I have a small feeling that it might involve a soft mattress.”

“I think so.”

“What are we waiting for, then?”

They each take a large gulp of the Glen Kinchie, this time downing the rest of it in one, whole fluid motion.

April and Eric rushed wildly out of the living area and into the hallway. Like a pack of wild animals, they ran up the stairs leaving a trail of clothing behind them, heading towards the primary bedroom and ripping their clothes off each other’s white milky flesh. When they arrived in the bedroom, they were both naked. Eric slammed the door behind them just as April eagerly jumped into bed.

“Come on,” she said to Eric in an overly seductive tone. Eric complied, of course.

She was sexy and he was horny… don’t tell me you wouldn’t — Seven minutes later, they lay together in bed breathing heavily.

“That was so good,” he said as he exhaled. They paused and looked at each other. “So?” he smirked.

“So what?”

“So, when are you going to end it?” April twirled his chest hair, ignoring the question.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” she asked him.

“When are you gonna end it with your husband?” Eric repeated, insisting on being in a completely separate discussion. They continue in this manner, speaking over each other. April was determined.

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

“When are you—Excuse me?” he asked her, confused. Eric sat up, his back resting against the headboard, “I brought you here,” he said with finality.

She continued, “I tend to disagree.” Eric paused, averting April’s gaze. Then, April continued:

“Do you want to have a shower?”

“What?”

“A shower, you know, with water, running above our heads. It could thee penultimate sex-act, don’t you think – and we’d be clean by the end….” Eric is tempted, of course, “Sure, he says,” almost reluctantly. They get up off the bed, butt-ass naked. But before they enter the en-suite bathroom, April turns to him and says, “And by the way, it’s not up to you to tell me when to end it with my husband.” I will (or won’t) do that on my own terms.”

“But” —

“Let’s go,” she insisted.

A steady stream of water pours from the showerhead as they both get in, gently making out. Now, with this part, I am sort of getting creative. They had to get into the bathtub somehow, right?

“All I want is for you to be happy,” he whispered to her as he sucked on her lower lip. Eww. That’s disgusting; I don’t know why I wrote that.

“Stop,” she whispered back, but with a softness that didn’t match her intent.

“What?”

“I can’t hear this anymore.” She stepped away.

April stepped out of the shower with the hour cautiously approaching midnight, carefully placing her feet on the bathmat, anywhere but the floor.

This left Eric wondering: what did I say?

There was a spring in her step as the expression on her face changed. She needed to do it. And she needed to get it over with. Now. Exiting the bathroom for just a moment, she came back having retrieved a knife. The blade was shiny, small.

“Where’d you go?” he yelled for her.

Water dripped onto the mat as she re-entered, the blade shaking in her hand as if she was nervous.

There was silence in the tub for a moment. Then, Eric broke all of his rules (they did apply everywhere, after all).

“What the fuck is that?”

Quickly, April forced the knife into Eric’s hand.

“It’s for you.” Catching Eric entirely off-guard, April uses Eric’s hand to stab himself in the wrists first, then the stomach resulting in his body going limp and falling to the floor of the white bathtub. April drops the knife into the tub. Leaving the water running, she stepped out again.

“If you want to finish yourself off, I suggest doing it soon. You could be sitting there bleeding out for hours.”

April put her clothes on rapidly before her phone rang. It was David, her husband. She answered it.

“David?” April whispered as she exited Eric’s house.

“Where are you? It’s getting late.”

“I’m just leaving now. Work went late,” she replied.

“Is it done?” I then asked.

“Yes. He’s in the tub.”

“Good.”

“I’m on my way, but I have to walk. The Lambo’s an ugly greenish colour.”

“Eww.”

April hung up the phone. I was left, waiting patiently. She was my wife, assassin, and lover, and she was doing the bidding. How hot is that?

Struggling to move his limbs, Eric grabbed the blade and bent his spine forward. April’s voice echoed in his head, “If you want to finish yourself off, I suggest doing it soon. You could be sitting there bleeding out for hours….” The tub was a plain-white colour no longer. Grasping the knife handle in his right hand with all his might, Eric cut a cross shape into his wrist. Blood spilt, his energy drained right out of him. He attempted to do the same on the other side but could not muster the strength. Eric dropped the blade.

After what felt like hours waiting for her to come home, I heard April’s soft footsteps shuffle in through the front door. Finally, I could fall asleep knowing that she was okay and the job was done. I started to close my eyes, and that’s when I suddenly realized. April never said anything about watching him die. She was home now that much I knew. But I wondered, did she witness the life leave his eyes or did she leave prematurely? Was I wrong to question her methods? Perhaps I was. Perhaps I wasn’t.

That night, there were so many unknowns. The only thing I cannot say for sure is whether or not he died right then and there.

April walked into our room and got into bed.

“I love you,” I said to her as we lay centimetres apart.

“I love you too,” she responded.

We almost kissed, but she drew away from me.

THE END