Theory of a Tramp
Pamela Caves
Copyright 2011 Pamela Caves
Learn more about this author at www.PamelaCaves.com
Cover art editing and design by Pamela Gifford, Creative Services/ www.PamelaGifford.com
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Theory of a Tramp
Olivia noticed Bill’s cell phone sitting on the kitchen counter twenty or so odd minutes after he’d left for work. She swore that man was so absent minded. She hoped she wouldn’t have to call him for anything. It was hell trying to get the office personnel at his work place to go into the warehouse for a phone call.
Just a pitiful nuisance was all it was. She’d have to make sure from now on she slipped it into his pocket before he walked out the door. But it wouldn't ruin her day! No, Siree! She was going to make something special today. Bill had gone out for drinks with his cousin, Pete, last night and tonight, for sure, he was all hers. She wiggled and danced her way around the morning chores and even belted out a couple of off key notes to her doughnut before devouring it for breakfast.
She went about her morning chores with unusual vigor despite the small ache in her left shoulder. It was time for another trip to the chiropractor. But not today. Today was for Bill and Bill alone.
She did three loads of laundry while she played a farming game on the computer. Afterward, she gave herself permission to take a break to eat lunch and watch the news. The midday meal was a leftover cheeseburger and a heaping mound of sour cream and onion chips. Yum! But those chips always came with a price. Heavy indigestion soon followed and she choked back a couple of chalk-like antacids chased by a half a glass of milk.
Laundry was put up but not before the crops in her farming game were harvested and replanted. She headed into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher when Bill's phone chimed. It must've been a text message. She stood in the middle of the kitchen and glared at it but that did nothing to keep it from chiming again a minute later.
Who the hell would be texting him right now? All his work buddies were at work with him, she was here with the phone, and Pete was at his own job, too. Her head twitched. Just thinking about someone trying to contact him when they knew he was supposed to be at work with his phone was disturbing. She begrudgingly walked toward the counter and grabbed it. Over her glasses, she looked at the front display which was still lit.
1 New Txt Msg
Olivia starred at it for a moment as if she could see who sent the message just by staring at the front display. Unfortunately, that wasn't the kind of phone Bill had. It was an older model flip phone. He preferred the simple stuff to those new-fangled smart phone thingamajigs.
The display blinked off. Although she didn't feel good about the message even before she saw it, she had to tell herself that this was only a momentary hiccup in her otherwise perfect day. Nothing would ruin her day with Bill. It was probably nobody; one of those messages that told him how many minutes he had left maybe. Maybe it was Pete changing their plans for later in the week. The anxiety was getting the best of her. Her heart sounded like it might pound out of her chest. Might as well go ahead and see what the message had to say. If it was one of those stupid forwards, she might just break the damn thing.
Had nice time last nite an want my panties back lol
Olivia stood there a moment, her gaze on the message so long that it winked off. She didn’t even see the blank display. Instead, she was still seeing the message in her mind.
A red hot boiling sensation began at her toes and bubbled up her legs. When it hit her stomach, she began to shake. Sweat seemed to pop up spontaneously along her brow. She swallowed hard to keep back the bile. She’d allowed him to touch her last night. She allowed him inside of her after he’d been with some tramp. Her breathing became staggered and her head swam.
Oh my god. He’d used Pete as an excuse to go screw some whore! Oh my god. How long had he been using Pete like that? Oh my god. Surely Pete wasn’t aware of Bill’s exploits. Surely if he’d known that Bill was cheating on her, he’d tell her. Wouldn’t he? Oh my god.
She swallowed hard to keep down the indigestion that crept back into her throat. Her perfect day with her husband was shoved into the back of her mind as she tried to absorb the enormity of what he’d done to her. Snapping out of her daze, she read and re-read the text message. There was no name with the number. That only meant he hadn’t put her in his phone. He hadn’t wanted Olivia to catch him with a whore's number. He probably had the damn thing committed to memory.
After several minutes of reading the message, she decided that it wasn't just a trick of her eyes. She began to accept the reality of what he'd done to her.
At first, there were tears. She’d given him over thirty years. She had given up over half her life caring for him and seeing to his every need. She’d raised his children, kept his house clean, and cooked his food.
Then there was anger. She found it difficult to catch her breath in the midst of the hatred she felt. How dare he! She had done nothing but devote her life to him and how did he repay her? How dare he! How the hell could he be so selfish? How could he stoop so low? How could he do this to her? How dare he!
Once the trembling subsided enough for her to catch her breath, she delicately placed the phone back on the counter. She recalled a moment several years ago when a mutual friend of theirs had confessed to cheating on his lovely wife. Olivia remembered the discussion with Bill that had followed. She thought about how she might feel if he ever cheated on her (which, by the way, was nothing compared to the reality of it), and she had told him that if she ever discovered he’d cheated on her, she’d kill him.
He’d chuckled at the time and said she’d never have to worry about such a thing. She remembered feeling lucky then. She was so lucky he was hers and only hers. He’d been her everything.
Sweat soaked her shirt. She slid to the floor, exhausted, livid, sad… her chest ached. Her heart was completely and utterly broken.
He wouldn’t get away with this. She wouldn’t lose everything she had because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.
With only a couple of hours until he came home, she contemplated her next move. He would come in and want a beer. He would trudge upstairs and soak in a warm bath. She knew what she had to do.
Once he was dead, she’d be okay. She would miss him but she knew it was the right thing to do. If anything, she’d warned him and he knew the risk.
She spent the next hour crushing half a bottle of over-the-counter sleeping pills into a fine powder. Usually, if he just swallowed two pills, she couldn’t wake him. With half a bottle, he’d be out cold and would dip under the water while sleeping. She carefully mixed it into the bottle of beer she planned on giving him when he walked through the door.
She stood in the living room for over an hour and held on to the beer. She felt the condensation on her hand. She felt the sweat ride along the small of her back. Her arm and shoulder ached from holding it so long. But she wouldn't move until he had taken it upstairs.
A few minutes after six, he pulled into the driveway and actually had the nerve to whistle as he walked up the front steps.
“Hi, Honey!”
Her stomach lurched. His cheery tone suggested that he felt not even a twinge of remorse for what he’d been doing behind her back. “Hi.” She hoped her flat tone didn’t betray her intentions. She didn’t want him to know that she knew. Not yet. That little gem of knowledge should be reserved for when he realized his life was coming to an end.
Bill pulled his shoes off and took the bottle of beer from her hand. He considered the condensation on the outside but took a swig anyway. “Thank you, Sweetheart.” Hi
s face came toward her for a kiss but she backed away. “What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m getting a cold,” Olivia told her husband. She was unable to keep the edge from her voice. “I don’t want you to get it.”
“Awwww.” He touched her and she flinched. “It doesn’t smell like you’ve started supper. Want me to make you my famous chicken soup?” He was grinning. The nerve.
“That will be fine.”
One last grin and he disappeared into the kitchen and bounded up the stairs toward the bathroom. In her mind, it would be his last trek up the stairs alive.
She sat on the couch and listened to him run his water for his last bath. The shaking was back. Her nerves were shot. She heard him climb into the tub while he hummed a tune. The audacity.
She sat for a long time listening. After several minutes she realized that her heart should have already quit racing. Her arm still ached and sweat continued to pour from her despite the ceiling fan circulating the air. As her breathing became more and more labored, she realized with horror that she was having a heart attack.
Her mouth opened to yell for Bill's help but no sound would come out. She forgot about the whore and his indiscretion. She forgot about everything but the incessant pounding of her heart. It was thumping so loud in her ears that she didn’t know if her last attempt at screaming for her husband had been successful. Her phone was sitting on the computer desk in the corner of the living room not even three steps from her.
She stood, her head spun, and her vision clouded. Without even realizing that she was falling, she was suddenly on the floor, face to face with the musty smell of the crème carpeting they’d had in the house for more than ten years. She felt so heavy, she couldn't lift herself from the floor. She was tired. So very tired.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. The pounding slowed, her vision further obscured. As she realized her fate was death, she took comfort in the knowledge that she took the adulterous bastard with her.
***
Bill woke in the empty tub, his neck stinging with pain as he lifted himself from the bottom of it. He had to work his toes from the plug chain. Good heavens, he’d fallen asleep! He quickly realized that if it hadn’t been for the plug chain wrapped around his toes, he probably would have drowned.
It must’ve been a long sleep. Outside the small privacy window, he could see that night had already fallen. He retrieved his watch from the sink counter and rubbed his neck from the bad position he’d been in. Good heavens, it was almost midnight! Why hadn’t Olivia come to get him?
He slowly eased down the stairs, his body still protesting any sudden movement in the wake of a long deep sleep curled inside the tub. The kitchen was dark. Where was she? Had she went to bed and left him up there? She said she hadn’t felt well. Maybe she’d turned in early.
He turned on the stove light and noticed his phone on the counter. He hadn’t even realized until then that he’d left it home that day. When he opened it, the display said he had 1 new text message.
Sorry about the earlier txt, the message read. I typed the wrong #.
Bill didn’t understand. Instead of looking back at his texts right then, he put the phone down, more concerned with where Olivia was and if she was any worse.
When he flipped on the living room light, he found her in the middle of the living room floor. He saw one of her eyes from this angle, open and staring at the carpet. He ran to her and checked for a pulse. His heart sank. Nothing. She was cold.
The medical examiner later told him that if he’d gotten to her in time, he could’ve saved her. If he hadn’t fallen asleep, he could’ve rushed her to the hospital and they might’ve been able to treat her.
He’d never forgive himself for not being there for the woman he loved.
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Pamela Caves is a content and fiction writer and lives in northern Alabama. Her debut novel, The Influence (contemporary science fiction), will be released mid to late 2012. For more on Pamela and her work, visit www.PamelaCaves.com.