Breaking, Blooming Mind: Chapter 13
Aconia finds herself on the floor in a pile of blankets and sleeping bags. Two empty bottles stand next to a dead battery operated lantern. Aconia checks her phone, seeing that it is past noon. She slept like a rock. There are a few missed calls but everyone knows that she has been sick. No one faults her for sleeping in or being slow to respond, especially once she shared how serious her condition was. It was a nice change of pace, even if it won't last once she is better. She's at least looking forward to getting better.
Heading upstairs, she surveys the damage. There are puddles of water on every floor, the carpet damp. There is enough damage that she thinks she will be able to get away with all the broken things. She takes pictures of the damp places and what the hail stones could have destroyed. She goes outside and takes pictures of both cars. She scans the photos for any evidence of Kris, of his blood, anything that might point to him being home. There is nothing in the pictures to incriminate her, a good step.
After a good night's sleep, she can think a bit more clearly. Getting him out to the garden will be difficult, but if she can manage it, she can get him into the wheelbarrow. As for what she will do after, it's simple. She can dump him in the bog. It isn't as far as she believed from the garden. Its discovery was part of the reason her garden was so fertile. It felt right to give something back to the bog. She would feed Kris to it as a thank you for the ability to harvest its nutrient rich soil. Kris could finally do something good with his life instead of being the criminal he was. Aconia would have preferred to see him rotting in jail, but rotting in the earth was better for them both.
She texts Tiffany first, before getting down to the dirty work of moving the body.
'Hey, I'll call soon. Kris and I had a fight and he stormed off. I'm sure he will be back soon. Both cars are fucked. I had to take pictures of everything myself this morning. He's fucking evil Tiff.' Aconia hits send.
'What the fuck happened? Why is he evil? I thought you loved him??? What happened to all that true love nonsense?' Tiffany replies.
'Yeah, it was fucking nonsense. Man literally is poisoning me.' She texts back.
'Yooo, noooo. Wtfffff? No. I get he's a snake but you can't just accuse someone of poisoning you.' Tiffany shoots back.
'I'm not. My blood tests prove it. It's fucked up. That's what has been making me sick. Chloroform. Nasty shit, Tiff.' Aconia replies.
'Oh fuck. Call me ASAP. Are you safe?' Tiffany responds.
'Yeah. OK for now. He's gone. Gonna try to clean up some.' Aconia texts, pocketing her phone and then she thinks for a moment. Instead of turning off her GPS, she leaves it on the table, something she usually does when she is cleaning. Then she starts moving Kris's body. The process is agonizing, a practice of wiggling him inch by inch, his bloated, vaguely stinking corpse making her wish she had broken down outside.
When Aconia gets him outside, she goes and gets the wheelbarrow, glad that there is still some peat soil in the bottom. She tips it down and struggles with his flesh, working it into the wheelbarrow, one thick, gangly limb at a time. She thinks that this is the price of murder. She wonders if this is the only price. Aconia doesn't know that she will get caught. She doubts she will, especially when it comes to light that he was poisoning her, that he cheated, that he's been lying and squandering their money. He is the villain in this story. She has to keep marking that in her mind. He might be dead, but he is the villain. He is the one who was wrong, not that killing him was right. It was an accident that doesn't relieve her of fault.
With him in the wheelbarrow, there comes the next hurdle. The ground is soupy, thick and soft. The weight of him in the wheelbarrow makes its wheels sink into the mud. Pushing him is a nasty business with just as much struggle. She is exhausted by the time she smells the sulfuric scent of rot. It smells almost good after the rain. The water has been churned. Aconia approaches cautiously, as she always does, not wanting to make the mistake of slipping in and finding out what things are lurking in the depths here.
She dumps Kris from the wheelbarrow unceremoniously, watching him flop into the mud and detritus. She sits down on the ground next to him, hoping that his soul can see what she is doing. She hopes he's watching from hell. Aconia places her boots against his body and gives a rough push from both of her legs, forcing her knees straight. Kris's body plummets into the thick slurry, a sucking noise, and then he is gone beneath the black, oily surface of the water. Aconia rests for a long time before she collects soil from the area, putting in shovel after shovel full into the wheelbarrow. When it is half full, she throws the shovel on top of her modest pile of dirt and begins the nasty process of retracing her steps, going from woods to garden. Parking the wheelbarrow in its usual spot, she tries to wipe sweat from her forehead and instead smears dirt across it.
She starts laughing, relief and anguish warring for first place in her chest. Either way, it is done. Now she has the rest of the house to clean up. Aconia takes off her boots and uses the back hose to rinse them clean of mud. She strips in the mudroom, putting her shoes back on. There is too much glass to go barefoot and she doesn't want to risk a cut that will send her to the hospital. Aconia grabs herself a meal shake, downing it quickly. She chases it with water. She drinks a second one and feels full enough to get started. She heads upstairs, taking pictures of the damage on the upper floors. She sends everything to her mother and asks for help. Aconia has never had to do this. Her mother is more than happy to help, laud the power over her. Aconia deals with being made to feel incompetent because she knows her mother won't ask why Kris isn't helping her do this instead.
She doesn't have to lift a finger as her mother submits everything to the proper insurance companies, taking care of the details and making sure that everything is set. Her mother then arranges for cleaners, repairmen, everything Aconia was going to do for herself. Suddenly, she doesn't need to do anything except take care of the few drops of blood on the hardwood. It's something that she does easily. She goes so far as to make sure that there are no stains left behind with a black light, just as her mother showed her. The floor is perfectly clean, nothing left behind.
Aconia goes up to her room and packs a bag, then calls Tiffany. She suggests they go on a little retreat for a week, just the two of them while her house gets repaired. She wants to be alone with Tiffany. She thinks that maybe she can trust Tiffany. Aconia isn't going to do anything stupid, like talk about how Kris is dead, but she can tell her the other stuff. Maybe not the psychic stuff, but the emotions. If she can prove the psychic thing, who knows? Certainly, Aconia doesn't and she doesn't want to. Not yet. Everything is too fresh in her mind and she needs to focus on being well before she can begin her extra curricular journey of being a menace to society.
—
It turns out that Breakfast At Tiffany's is better as a film than an actual event. Tiffany came to pick her up, explaining that the hotel check in wasn't until three. Aconia could live with that, bubbling with excitement to go to the all inclusive resort. There was exactly zero talk of Kris and when they arrived at Tiffany's her mother was making breakfast. Her mother very politely offered a seat at the table for Aconia, and Aconia accepted though she didn't really want to. She is nauseous from everything that has transpired from the past two days. It's a rough sort of going that makes Aconia only want to sleep, hoping that things will be magically fixed or at least someone else's problem in the morning.
It's a childish sort of thinking, but Aconia doesn't take it to heart. With her dead husband, her dead house, her dying garden, everything is getting ready for Winter. Aconia is wilting back herself. She supposes that while she is stuck inside, she will at least be able to focus on her new found power. She hasn't decided if she believes in her psychic abilities or if she is simply delusional. The only thing she is truly certain of is the storm and that her husband is dead, decaying in the bottom of the bog where he belongs. Prison would have been too kind.
Conversation stops and starts, Tiffany keeping conversation to light topics. Her mother and father ask about Kris, talk about the wedding and when the next party is. Aconia does her best not to choke on her bitter, black coffee. She gives pleasant smiles and noncommittal answers. She cannot bring herself to explain that her husband has been poisoning her, killing her slowly in the name of lechery and lust. When she looks at Tiffany, she notices that her eyes stay on her plate while she talks about Kris. Aconia does her best to steer the topic away from marriage and being a couple with someone. She doesn't want to feed the wolves, or throw Tiffany to them.
The table falls into uncomfortable silence while they eat. Tiffany's father departs for work, Tiffany's mother to the kitchen leaving the girls alone. The silence goes from uncomfortable to awkward as the women give each other small smiles, coy looks. It is a flirting that takes place discreetly. It confirms everything Aconia has been wondering. She thinks about Tiffany and her petal pink lips, the light dusting of freckles that hint at constellations across the whole of her body. She sighs over the delicate curve of her cheek, her collarbone, she is a pretty porcelain doll too, and Aconia wants someone like her.
It isn't the first time she has thought of women like this. If she were honest with herself, she prefers them. Aesthetically, they remind her of the flowers in her garden, wild and bright, beautiful, each with a personality and story and language that is secret to themselves and those they let in. There are things in Tiffany's gaze that heat her skin, but it is unlike the way Kris would look at her. There is want and hunger, that is the same, but there is nothing predatory. Aconia doesn't feel the hairs on the back of her neck raise. She doesn't feel the brush of danger that comes when men look at her. It brings a sort of stability inside her and she realizes that Tiffany and she have been staring at each other for some time now. Aconia swallows and turns her gaze away, looking down into her cup instead.
"We're gonna go shopping, 'kay?" Tiffany calls to her mother in the kitchen though neither of them have moved yet.
"Alright, see you after the weekend." Tiffany's mother replies. The women make their exit, itching to get out of sight from judging eyes.