Honey, I’m home…

By Zondra Lynn

I believe it’s safe to assume that around about now he’s arriving home from work, finding that the kids have been home for about an hour now, alone. I believe he’s looking at the kids and has asked them, rhetorically, “Where’s your mother?” I can hear him calling my name as he searched throughout the house, in vain, hoping maybe I let someone borrow my car and I dozed off in front of the TV in our bedroom. But no, I’m not there. I assume the younger two children, the 6-year-old twins, Brandy and Brianna, are laughing and playing with their colors and are fascinated by some school work they were given today in the first grade. But, the oldest, Candice, my intelligent 12 year old has picked up on something, she knows this is odd and she’s telling herself in the worst English possible “somthin jus aint right”. She’s watching her father closely, as usual, but this time instead of relying on him to determine how she should react, she has probably already told herself that “Whateva is goin on I gotta be strong!” She has picked up on his limp and isn’t sure what to think of that just yet. My husband calls my parents to find they haven’t heard anything from me either, but to make sure they don’t become stressed at their old age I can hear him telling them something along the lines of “Maybe she just stepped out to pick up groceries, or meet a friend. Don’t worry, everything’s fine.”

He’s going to try and do his usual evening routine, grab a drink, sit in front of the TV and watch the six o’ clock news on Fox before watching his crime dramas. Little does he know that it’s all going to be interrupted pretty soon. he, along with the twins, are going to realize they are hungry. He’ll say, “Man we gotta eat.” Then he will ask the oldest “What do you want to do for dinner?” She’ll just shrug her shoulders, realizing her father isn’t too concerned at this point and figuring to herself that everything is alright. After awhile she’ll suggest pizza, because it’s quick and easy and she has homework to complete. Hours will past, my husband will make a few more calls because there will be no sign of me. Candice will continue on her normal routine, not because that’s all she knows, but because she is a very well-mannered and simply good, growing, young lady. She’ll make up in her mind that although “something jus aint right” everything is fine… for now. He’ll eventually bathe and put the kids to bed about an hour after their normal bedtime, because he just had to watch whatever it is he wanted to see on TV. The twins will ask, “where’s mommy?” a few times during their baths, and while getting ready for bed like they usually do, even when I’m in the other room, the answer given will be something along the lines, “Mommy is on her way, you’ll see her in the morning.” In the morning they will find out that was a lie.

As of today, it’s been a few weeks, probably over a month and I can imagine my family is struggling with the realization that I’m gone, long gone. The police searches have been futile to say the least. Obviously my car hasn’t been discovered because I see on the news I’m still just a missing person. My family and friends would have all been questioned by now, I’m sure Candice has had a few sleepless nights, but fortunately our town is small enough that her teachers are cutting her some slack. Besides, something has to be wrong for their straight A student to make such a drastic change within a few days. The twins, well, I’m sure they have given my husband the headache he deserves with their cries, whining, and begging for me every night. I know my parents and the rest of my family is rallying together to find me and also support each other during my absence. I guess it’s also safe to say that my husband is being relieved of some of his duties by my sisters, aunts, and mother picking days to fix meals, clean the house, care for the children, mainly the twins, and help Candice continue on without me because who knows when, or God forbid, if her mother will return. I reckon they figure I went out and got abducted or just left and fell in a ditch or something. I don’t think the truth has actually surfaced yet; well, maybe it has with my mom but I’m sure, if it has come across her mind, she is in denial about it.

I wonder if my husband ever musters up a tear in front of the camera, or if he just gives his blank expression to prevent others from reading him. By now I believe the police would have probably re-interrogated everyone, probably even changing the focus from a “missing person” case to a murder case. However, no body, no murder. I know the news has run a few stories on my case. I wonder if by now I’ve made it as a feature story on 20/20. I’m sure the issue has made national news. Stations have probably already contacted my family to do interviews, and stories regarding my life. What kind of person I was, where I came from, and to speculate on what happened to me, and how my family is coping with the idea of me being gone. I’m even sure they have posted a national number to call if anyone has any information on my whereabouts. Unfortunately, the only one who has any information won’t call. In a year or so I’m sure I’ll be a lifetime movie premier.

I know my family will be just fine without me, but I wonder what it would’ve been like to watch Candice grow up. To be there for her first cheerleader try-outs, watch her during her competitions, threaten to pull her off the team if her grades ever went down, take her shopping, watch her turn 16 and get interested in boys and sit up and wait for her to come home after her first day so I can drown her with a billion and one questions, just to her say “MOOOOMMMMM, I’ll tell you more later on!” To send her off to college knowing she will do just fine because she is a smart beautiful young lady, all to turn around and do it all over again with Brandy and Brianna. But, no, I won’t have that. The man I loved and devoted fifteen years to took it from me. I just hope that for whatever reason, it was worth it.

I replay the scene over and over again, partly because I have no choice. I remember it as if it was yesterday, because forever that would be my last day. I remember being surprised to see him come home from work so early. I remember seeing the glazed over look on his face, as if he wasn’t in his right mind, but somehow I knew he was comfortable and had put much thought in what his next move was going to be. I remember him pulling me close and saying “I loved you.” And me stopping to look him in his cold dark eyes wondering why he put the ‘d’ on love, knowing it was no accident. I remember him digging in his pocket and pulling out a butterfly knife. I took a step back as a flood of uneasiness took over me, “Wha – What’s goin on, what are you doing?” I remember it glistening in the sun rays coming in from the kitchen window as he flipped the blade of the knife out, grabbed me by the back of my hair and brought the blade down to my throat. Fear overwhelmed me, momentarily paralyzing my mind, but not my arms and legs. I grab his hand, digging my nails in him and I kick with all my might. He flinches, curses me, and with his newfound strength scrapes the blade from one side of my neck to the other. I see him drop me, I see my blood running out of my neck, spewing out, I gasp for air, coming towards my husband and he backs away from me. He extends his arm and pushes me back to keep me from bleeding on the carpet. I fall back into the kitchen, and momentarily the lights are out.

When I come to, I hear my husband whistling and I see him mopping the kitchen floor and I realize this is all a bad dream until I see myself lying on large plastic bags, and I realize this is reality. My life was ended at the hands of my husband. He throws me in the trunk of the car, “Classic!” I say aloud, but he can’t hear me. He drives to a locked cemetery, he punches in a code and the gates open, they close immediately behind him. He follows the path around to a stucco building. Still in broad daylight I watch as he pushes the door open, drags my body and tosses me down some steep dark stairs. He follows in behind me, when he gets down there, he sees the flame in the crematory is still blazing hot. He removes the plastic from my body and tosses me into the flame. Astounded, I watch, I begin to look at my now ex-husband and things are a little bit clearer to me. I see the fear, the hate, even a glimpse of remorse, which is faded out by the pure evilness engulfing him. “What kind of man are you?” I ask again knowing I am inaudible to him. He turns to leave and goes to dump my car in the bottom of the lake. I just fade away, never to be seen again.