When the door burst open, Frank was hanging onto the doorframe one eye
swollen shut. Angela didn’t know what to think. She got up to rush to him but
he said, “Don’t! Just sit back down, I don’t want you touching me!” Angela’s
heart started pounding in her breast, and she thought, ‘he can’t know’. But
that look in his eye made her think that he just might.

She watched him carefully as he staggered to the large recliner
opposite her, and fell into it. Perched on the edge of her seat, she wanted to
run, to get away, to keep that eye, burning with anger and despair, from
focusing on her. But finally it did, piercing her, holding her there.

“I went down to the bar to have a drink,” he gave a little half smile
that came no where near his eyes, “you know the place, Rooks, that little
sports bar on Fifth and Vine. It was a rough day, so I thought I could use
something to pick me up.” His smile fell away. He raised a shaking hand
towards his face, noticed the bloody knuckles and torn skin, and placed it
back on the armrest. “Bill was there, talking to a friend of his. I was going
to go over and say hi, but then I heard what he was talking about. So I just
sat there and listened. Do you know what he was talking about?”

“No…” Angela’s voice shook.

Franks arm flung out and smashed the picture of them, on their wedding
day, to the floor. He leaned forward over the table between them and snarled,
“He was talking about fucking you!” It was too much, Angela got to her feet,
she had to get a way. Frank was up a second after her, but he was faster:
blocking her path. “Sit down!” he yelled. Pointing at the chair, blood
dripping from a cut the picture glass had torn across the back of his hand, he
said again, “Sit down.”

Angela was scared. She’d never seen Frank like this. A moment of
indecision went through her before she sat down again. Frank didn’t sit; he
just stood there for a second then started pacing. Blood dripped from his
hand, but he was oblivious to it. Each drop stained the white carpet as he
passed over it, ground in mercilessly by his constant tread.

“You know I thought that he was just talking about some conquest of
his, one of the hundreds, until he mentioned that birthmark. Yea, not many
women with a birthmark like that I’m sure. But I gave you the benefit of the
doubt. It could have been anyone he was talking about.” When Angela looked up
she found that he was staring her right in the eye. “Then he mentioned fucking
her in the kitchen. Said her husband was away on business. He had her buck
naked and all sweaty, slammed up against the fridge. Said he was ramming her
good.” Angela could here the gritting of his teeth as he spoke. “‘Screaming my
name’, he said, ‘The bitch wanted all I could give her and more.’ Said she
didn’t even want to stop when a crystal vase shattered on the floor.” He
started pacing again. “I remember when I got home from that business trip to
Vancouver, I asked you what happened to the vase I bought you for our third
anniversary; you said the cat had knocked it off the fridge and it smashed.
The fucking cat!” Frank smashed his hand into the plaster wall, denting it,
blood running down from the imprint of his fist. Angela couldn’t look at him,
she knew what she had done. She regretted doing it from the day it happened.
But she was lonely and he was gone. It had just happened. She still loved
Frank and only him.

She looked up when she heard his sob wrench free. He was leaning his
head against the wall. He seemed deflated, empty, leaning there. She wanted to
rush to him, to hold him, but she couldn’t move from her spot on the couch.
“He said, ‘She was a great fuck. I’m sure that next time Frank’s out of town
we’ll be at it again.’ How could you? I’ve never even looked at another woman.
I loved you with all my heart.”

A pain clenched around her heart like a fist preparing to rip it free.
Loved, she thought, he couldn’t mean they were over; he couldn’t! “Frank …
Frank, please!” She pleaded. Tears running down her face. “I didn’t mean for
it to happen. It just did. I don’t love him.”

“And you fucking don’t love me either!” Frank said pushing away from
the wall as he staggered for the door.

“I do love you!” She screamed after him. “Frank, please, I do love
you!” But he just disappeared out the door, like he’d never heard her,
slamming it shut behind him. Angela curled up and in on herself, as she cried,
for how long she didn’t know. After pulling herself together she got up and
tried to clean up the blood and glass scattered over the floor.

Hours passed as Angela waited up for him, hoping he would come back
tonight. Midnight passed. Then two, then three am. She was sitting in the
kitchen thinking about how she was going to fix this, how she’d make
everything alright, when the knock on the door came. She rushed to it hoping
it was Frank, but a panic was rising in her. When she opened the door and
found a police officer standing there she wasn’t sure what to think.

“Mrs. Wright?” The officer asked in an official sounding voice. When
she nodded he continued. “I’m sorry to have to tell you, but I have some bad
news. Your husbands been killed in a car crash. He seems to have been drinking
and hit a light pole. He didn’t have his seatbelt on. I’m sorry.” Angela’s
legs folded under her no longer able to support her weight. The officer rushed
forward helping her up and over onto the couch. “I’m really very sorry ma’am.”
The officer said. “Do you need me to call anyone for you?” She shook her head.
“Are you sure?” She nodded. “Well, we’ll need you to come down to the morgue
sometime tomorrow to identify the body. Again, I’m sorry.” If he said anything
else or did anything before he left Angela didn’t notice.

One mistake, one night of passion had destroyed her life. Curling up
on the couch she cried like she’d never done before, until sleep finally
overcame her.