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They didn’t know that she could hear them in the other room.
Shelly lay curled in her bed, her eyes open wide to the dark. She heard the man and woman’s voices floating into her bedroom. She closed her eyes and shoved a pillow over her head, trying to block the sounds out.
She was amazed, really, that he dared bring another woman in her own home, even if only momentarily. Shelly was offended that he thought she wouldn’t notice. She could smell the perfume that clung to his clothes and skin after he was late home from work or went for walks late in the evening.
Finally the front door closed, signaling the other woman’s exit. Minutes afterwards, the man’s silhouette fell over the bed as he entered the room. Shelly glued her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. He leaned down and kissed her forehead, “Good night,” he whispered, his breath tickling her neck. She held up her guise by not responding, breathing deeply.
*
Shelly sat at the kitchen table, around her the morning sun casting golden rainbows through the room.
She didn’t even notice Jon come in and quietly fix himself his morning coffee. She was intent on the drawing in front of her. She had to get the shading in the background just right.
After a final minute of intense concentration she looked up at him, “Good morning.” She smiled. He laughed at the sudden change in her.
“Morning, lovely. What are you drawing?” he shrugged off the counter and leaned over the table.
“It’s us, together.” She held up the drawing to him, “I’ve been working on it all morning.”
“I can tell. It’s beautiful.” She beamed at his approving smile.
A shrill electronic ring came from another room, “I’ll get it, baby, you just eat some breakfast.” He said as he left the kitchen, coffee in hand. Shelly munched on cereal from the box beside her, Honey Nut Cheerios, her favorite. His voice carried through the air to her, a tone of worry evident. She became worried and crept over to the office door where he was standing, holding the phone to his ear. His voice was low, almost a whisper as he spoke, “I’m sorry, Cindy, I’m just not ready to tell her. Yes, I know. I love you too, really, I do, but I’m just…I know. I just don’t think it’s the right time.”
Shelly tried with all her being not to storm in there and slap the phone from his hand, scream at the woman and slam it back on the cradle. “This weekend?” he was continuing, “Yeah, that sounds good actually. I’m sure she’d love it. You’re right, maybe if you two become friends it’ll be easier to tell her. Friday afternoon sound good? Good. All right, love you too. Bye.”
*
Shelly sat on her bed, fuming. How dare he bring another woman into his life like this? She thought he loved her, she had devoted herself to him…and now he is giving his love, his time to another woman?
No. Not acceptable, she thought. She sat and thought for a while, through lunch even, and finally decided. She’d have to get rid of Cindy this weekend, somehow. She’d seen enough of those cop shows on television to get away with it.
*
Shelly and Cindy searched through many stores in the mall, bonding. Or, that’s what Cindy believed. She didn’t seem to notice the short answers that Shelly gave to her questions, nor did she seem to notice how Shelly never returned with any of her own questions.
Cindy generously bought Shelly a shirt, although Shelly wasn’t too fond of it.
When they got back to Cindy’s apartment later that night they ordered pizza and watched movies until they fell asleep, curled up on the couch.
*
As the women made lunch the next day, the doorbell broke through Cindy’s incessant rambling. Shelly gladly removed herself from the kitchen and answered the door.
The man standing there was obviously a part of the mail carrying sort. “Hey,” his tone was puzzled, “Where’s Cindy? I thought this was her house…” he leaned around the doorframe, noting the number of the house. He looked even more puzzled when it was the number he remembered.
“It is. She’s here, I’m just visiting.” Shelly explained and his puzzled expression fell as he heard Cindy’s voice from the kitchen. “Eric? Is that you? Come on in.” Eric the mailman smiled as Shelly moved aside to let him in. They moved into the kitchen and Eric kissed Cindy on the cheek as she chopped tomatoes for her sandwich.
“Hey darling,” he said, beaming at her, “Having a good day?”
“Of course,” Cindy’s voice was guarded, but Eric didn’t seem to notice. “We were just making lunch.”
“Oh, yummy. I just stopped in to say that I love you.” He held out flowers to Cindy. Her eyes widened as she accepted them.
“Thank you! They’re lovely,” Cindy cut her eyes at Shelly for a moment while hugging Eric. “I love them,” she kissed him; “I love you too.”
Now, Shelly had never herself been a paramour but, she knew one when she saw it. And Cindy was it.
Shelly picked up the knife Cindy had been using and cleaned it while Eric fondled Cindy. As she was drying the blade Eric saw her though and took it from her, “Be careful,” he said, “You don’t want to cut yourself.” And he put it down on the counter.
“I’ve got to go. Got lots of mail to deliver.” He smiled, kissed Cindy once more and shook Shelly’s hand, saying how good it was to meet her. Then Cindy walked him to the door and waved as he started down the street.
In the kitchen Shelly pulled on an oven mitt and picked up the knife. She weighed it in her hand until she could hold it tight and still use it. When Cindy walked back in the kitchen and saw Shelly standing with a knife in her hand, she froze.
“You’re so selfish.” She said before Cindy’s astonished look. “You’ve got your mailman and yet you still come and take my man from me.”
“S-Shelly, he’s your—“ her voice broke with a scream as Shelly lunged at her, knife poised like a poisonous snake, ready to strike.
*
A knock on the door woke Jon from his mid-afternoon nap. “Coming!” his voice cracked. Sluggishly he pulled himself from under the blankets and ropped his feet to the cold floor.
Another knock.
“I’m coming! Hold your houses,” he shuffled through his laundry and pulled on sweatpants from earlier that morning. He trudged to the door and upon opening it, he saw a police officer carrying Shelly in his arms.
“Is this your daughter, sir?” the officer asked.
Jon stammered, “Y-yes, that’s my Shelly.” He reached out for her both numbly and carefully as he took her in his arms. Blood more that specked her face and clothes, she was shaking, her eyes were wide as saucers. Tears left a canyon of pale white on her red cheeks.
“What happened?” Jon’s voice broke again as he clutched Shelly to his chest. He didn’t even seem to notice the blood now staining his skin.
“The woman she was with, Cindy Donahue, are you acquainted with her?” the cop asked, probably a little too calmly.
“Yes, she’s my—She was my girlfriend.”
“Well, she was found murdered in her apartment earlier today. Shelly here was in the backroom, crying when we found her.” Jon clutched her tighter. “From the prints we found on the knife, it seems like Eric Fischer, the mail man, killed her; Stabbed her about eight times.”
Jon blinked, frozen in a state of shock. The police officer took his information down so he could get in touch with Shelly later in the investigation before getting in his car and leaving Shelly in the care of her father.
In the kitchen, the image of two stick figures smiled at the world from the refrigerator, holding hands. At the bottom corner, Shelly’s name was scrawled as was the date from earlier in the week. Above their heads were the words, “Shelly and Daddy.” Above that, underlined, was “Together, forever. Always!”
