*A Necessary Evil

Intro: I had no idea what to write so I went looking for writing prompts. This one jumped out at me: "Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don't kill anyone." I hope you enjoy the story.

Only two weeks into the New Year had passed and Tim had already broken his first resolution: Don't kill anyone. He hadn't meant for it to happen. The situation, timing, and victim all matched up like fate. All it took was for Tim to pull the trigger.

He kicked at a stray pebble on the sidewalk, his hands jammed into his pockets. There would be a news article about it. His name and picture would be prominently displayed next to the victim's name. It wouldn't be the first page but it would be big.

A car honked at him when he crossed the street without looking. He waved an apology and kept going. He would have to tell Pat, there was no getting around it. And he would be pissed. It was because of Pat he even bothered making the resolution. He'd put real effort into keeping it too.

His phone rang. Pat.

"Crap," he flipped it open and smiled. "Hello, Patrick."

"You did it, didn't you?"

"Oh ye of little faith. I made a promise."

"Tim."

He rubbed a hand across his forehead. "Yes, alright. I killed someone."

"Who?"

He didn't answer and instead ducked into a small alcove.

"Which one, Tim?"

Still he didn't answer.

"You killed Clint. I can't believe this. At least you could have picked someone else. Like Bernice. I wouldn't have minded if you killed her. It could have been epic."

"But everything was so perfect. It would have been a sin not to finish him off."

"Tim,"

"Yes?"

"I hate you. I'll be right over to take care of it."

"Thanks, Pat."

Tim picked up his pace and headed back to his small apartment. Pat waited at the door, the collar of his trench coat pulled up.

"That was fast," Tim commented as he pulled out his key and opened the door.

"Just let me see the damage."

Tim pointed to the corner of the room where his desk stood. As Pat hurried over, Tim slouched down on the couch. He heard Pat rustling and finally there was a sigh.
"It really was necessary."

"Told you," Tim said, his voice tired. "I really didn't want to kill him."

"But now we're in a pickle. How are you suppose to write three more books with Detective Clint who has now been shot three times through the heart."

"I'll figure something out," Tim replied, "I always do."

"I know. Just this time, please try to keep your main character around longer than two books. You're making my job as your agent a nightmare."

"I can't promise anything."

"Obviously."

Twitter

How fitting that nearly a year after I discussed how much I hate Twitter and Facebook, I am now a semi-regular user of Twitter. I will also add that the only reason I initially signed up for a Twitter account is because of work. I don't do as much with it for work as I should, but I really enjoy following my favorite authors as well as businesses. So, I have become a Twit and I don't hate it as much as I thought I would. We'll see how long this keeps up. If I keep hearing interesting facts about The Wheel of Time or about sales from my favorite website, I'll probably continue. Just don't expect me to say anything interesting. (As a side note, I'm still boycotting Facebook.)

*Waiting

Intro: Once again, my husband and I were having a late night conversation (always entertaining especially since both of us are up before 5:00). I had been listening to an audio book to and from work where a woman has a dilemma about remarrying after her husband passes away. In my life I have seen multiple successful second marriages. So, interested, I asked my husband if he would ever think about remarrying if I passed away. He replied that it would depend. He asked the question back and I responded in similar fashion. After a moment's pause he asked. "What if I were gone for, say, six years. Would you remarry?" The groggy conversation ensued with me finally determining that if something were to ever happen to him, I would wait six years before getting remarried. That would give him enough time do to whatever he needed to and then come back.

"If I were to die, would you remarry?" I ask turning in the bed to face the dark lump of my husband, Greg.

"Wha?" he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Maybe, I guess. It all depends."

I sigh, thinking of the latest book I'd been listening to which broached the topic.

"Would you remarry, Susan?" he asks.

"It depends."

"What if I disappeared for six years? Would you remarry then, beautiful?"

"Six years? Is that how long this is going to take?"

He doesn't reply and I hear his even breathing of sleep. I lay there for a moment longer when a coughing fit strikes. So as not to disturb my husband, I roll out of bed and shuffle to the kitchen for a drink of water. After a minute or two I stumble back into the bedroom. The lump signifying my husband is gone. With the bed completely stripped and every light on in our small house on, I sit in the middle of the floor shivering. The police find no evidence. Greg is soon forgotten by almost everyone.

#

"It's been six years," Janet says stirring her hot chocolate.

I don't reply and remain focused on the rain outside the window. Not quite six years. In three days it would be exactly six years. Only Jeffery was in my life now. Greg seemingly a fragment of my imagination who came to visit my dreams occasionally.

"Hasn't Jeffery asked you?"

"Several times," I reply pulling my gaze away from the gray world. "Maybe next time—"

"If there is a next time. You've been stringing him along for three years. He's not going to stick around much longer."

I twist the wedding ring on my finger. I can't, not until I'm sure. The idea of getting married when Greg might come back, awful. Even if he is only a figment of my imagination, he still tugs at me. The phone rings and I move over to get it.

"Hey, sexy," Jeffery's voice heats my face. "Have any plans tonight?"

"What do you think?" I reply.

"I think you want to join me for a romantic evening."

I chew my lip, "Jeffery, I already told you."

"I know. This is purely a platonic romantic evening."

I remain silent listening to my own heartbeat waver slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Please, Susan. I promise I will remain completely respectable."

Guilt pricks me, and I lean my head against the wall. "What time?"

"I'll be there at 5:00. Wear something slinky."

"Jeffery."

"Sorry, Sorry. Something nice. Love you."

He hangs up before I can even think of replying.

"So, have a hot date?" Janet asks.

I think about throwing the phone at her.

#

"I just want you to think about it," Jeffery says, pushing the little box towards me. "I don't need an answer right away."

"No," I use my fork to push it back. "I've already told you."

"Blast it all, Susan. Are you just going to pine away waiting for a husband who is long dead?"

"Greg," my voice cracks and tears blur my vision for a moment. "I can't, not when Greg."

"He's dead."

I shake my head and stand up, clutching my purse in one hand and rubbing my arm where goose bumps had been for years.

"You were only married for what, a year? Is one year of marriage really worth six years of loneliness?"

"I'm not lonely." The words fall hollow on my ears. Three more days. That's all I need to be sure.

"Don't lie to yourself. I know you sleep on the couch every night."

"Where I sleep has nothing to do with you," I try to keep my voice even but a lump in my throat flubs the whole thing. "I explained everything to you when we first started seeing each other."

"Fine. Whatever," he throws his napkin down on the table and pushes back his chair.

Everyone in the restaurant stares as he stalks out of the building. Leaving me with the check. I put it on my credit card and stare at the uneaten food. I drop my purse on the floor and eat the whole piece of triple chocolate, molten fudge cake. I feel sick. For a moment I hate Greg.

I don't go to work the next day and ignore the ringing phone, stuffing my head under a pillow until I fall asleep again.

#

"I'm sorry," I mumble raising my head from the couch. "I didn't mean to doubt you."

The dream Greg fades and I look into the concerned face of Jeffery. I hastily scramble away from him, pulling the blanket closer.

"Why do you put yourself through this? I'm just as good as Greg."

"I never said you weren't," I reply looking for any way to get around him or remove him from my house.

"See, so marry me."

"But I love Greg," I whisper, finally voicing my inner thoughts.

"But he left you."

"You don't know that."

Jeffery storms off, throwing his hands in the air. I make a break for it and duck into the bedroom I rarely enter.

"Good morning, beautiful," a voice says softly.

The chill in my bones slowly disperses as I look at the familiar figure lying stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Something smashes against the door and we listen as Jeffery storms out of the house. Greg looks over at me, his eyes bright and mischievous.

I fold my arms across my chest, "You have some explaining to do."

"Susan, it's not what you think."

I pick up a pillow and thwack his chest with it. "You can explain in the morning."

He rolls over, leaning on his hand and looking at me.

"Tonight, you sleep on the couch," I say and walk from the room.

He is alive. I can marry without guilt, as soon as I find someone to love and finalized the divorce.

Broken vs. Imperfect

This week I came to an understanding that my husband and I think very differently when it comes to home repair. Our definition of "in need of replacement" varies vastly. He is under the impression that if something is not in perfect working order, it needs to be replaced. I think it only needs to be replaced if it is broken.

A year ago our water heater broke; water was dripping from the bottom and putting out the pilot light. Luckily our home warranty covered the repair. The only problem was when the house was remodeled, the furnace and water heater were install and then the wall was built around them. The only way to get the old water heater out and put the new one in was to cut a fairly sizable hole in the wall. New water heater went in without a problem but we just didn't have the funds at the time to do any permanent fix to the wall. Currently covering the hole is a closet door we no longer use. This is mostly to keep the cat out of the area. It does look pretty ridiculous but I never thought about bothering to replace it yet.

We went to Lowe's last night for a couple of home improvement items that have been weighing on my husband's mind. He'd already been once and I was just going back with him after work. We found a door that would fit the hole at a reasonable price. I said let's get it. He said no. He hadn't expected us to buy it that night. We then went looking for blinds but we'd left the paper with the exact measurements at home. The sales clerk plugged in our estimated numbers (we remembered the width and knew a rough length) then asked if we wanted to order them. He said yes. I said no. I wasn't going to order blinds if I wasn't exactly sure of the length. I can shorten them but I can't lengthen them.

As we walked back through the store he continued:
Husband: "Let's go look at ______ because have you noticed it's a little loose?"
Me: "But it still works."
Husband: "But it's loose."
Me: "But it isn't broken."