Have Sue's hopes for a sweet Valentine's romp grown dim, even grim? Settle back for more twists and turns.
Nan
A Tale from Eve’s Garden
By Nan D. Arnold
Part 6
Happy to be out of Marley’s dusty elevator and again in human form, SC walked up two flights of stairs to the dingy little room he rented. He complained to the peeling walls. “If they’re gonna send me on assignment in New York City, they should include a much larger expense account.”
He pondered a plan as he plopped down on the squeaky mattress and munched cheese doodles. All I know for sure is Jake now lives with another woman who isn’t the one meant for him. When SC dozed off , he returned to his cherub form. Upon waking, he decided to reconnoiter Marley’s apartment. Jake was gone already, so SC floated above morning crowds to Sue’s apartment, hoping he’d find Jake there. No such luck.
Sue woke at 10:30AM. “Jake?” No Jake. Walking into the living room, Sue winced at the burned out candles and uneaten food. Just as well, I need to repair myself. She wrapped her arms about her. Bet he left a note. She grabbed a plate of fruit and cheese, and made coffee.
No note? Disappointed, Sue dialed Jake’s cell phone. No answer.
Sue didn’t give up easily. Remembering the special hours they shared, she was determined not to let last night go as one more a long line of one-night stands. This was not another proverbial electric screw. He felt something, too. She repeated this to herself as if it were a mantra.
But after two days of calling, texting, and even emailing Jake, she began another slide into darkness. Finally, Jake answered. At first, his voice was distant, aloof. Then, in a moment of weakness, he told Sue the truth.
“Theatre work is hard to find, Sue. Marley’s support and connections are my ticket to playing lead roles in major productions. I really like you. But...” Without good-bye, Jake was gone.
Devastated, Sue downed an anti-depressant and a tranquilizer with some warm wine straight from the bottle. Closing the black-out shades and tossing back more pills with wine chasers, she lay on the couch in a stupor.
SC bounced around the ceiling. “Hey, wake up.” But Sue was too far gone to hear him. He nudged her. No response. In desperation, SC resorted to drastic measures. He banged pots and pans in the kitchen – no easy job for a cherub. He had to break through her drug-induced trance.
What is that awful noise? Sue wondered if she’d dreamed the racket . The clanging stopped. Obviously, I’m not dead yet so, I might as well pull myself together. She fumbled for her phone and requested a massage therapist to come at noon. After food and coffee, she took a shower and then thought came more clearly.
”Whew,” muttered SC out loud, “that was close, but I suspect more mayhem is brewing. I better hang around here to head it off. Wish I had somebody to massage my neck."
After a detox massage, Sue dressed and paced. Lucid again she formed a plan.
Sue sent Jake a contrite email explaining she understood his situation and requesting a meeting in Central Park to toast to his new role and bring closure to a romance that couldn’t be.
Jake called later, the conversation brief. “Thanks, Sue. I’ll be there. I appreciate your understanding.”
Grabbing her LV bag, Sue made a quick trip downtown to an old apothecary. Well known for being discreet, the owner sold all manner of drugs and concoctions. There she paid cash for a potion nicknamed “Inheritance Powder” back in the 19th century. So called because it was a sought after remedy for relatives who couldn’t wait for the Almighty to claim the titled, thus bestowing rank on the new bloods.
Returning home, Sue studied her wine cellar, selecting an expensive 1985 first growth Bordeaux. Her will hardened like iron under an anvil.
She opened the bottle and poured a modest amount into a sterling silver flask. That would steady her before taking the final sip of death. Then she funneled a measured dose of powder into the bottle, recorking it carefully. If it didn’t kill Jake outright, he’d very well suffer some wine-induced malaise. Word would spread he had a drinking problem. His lead on Broadway would be over as quickly as the role of hero he’d played for her. Probably scripted by Marley. A witch-like cackle escaped vengeful Sue’s lips.
Oh,boy. SC looked on in horror.
Watch for More Next Week:
Out for revenge, will Sue’s iron-borne strength and potent potion mean curtains for Jake?
