Painting in Red

“Kevin, can you call Amy at her office and let her know we won’t be making it to dinner tonight after all? I want to let her know before it gets any later.”

“Sure thing, just give me a minute,” he answered quickly so she wouldn’t snap at him again like she did earlier when he couldn’t find his button-up shirt for work.

“I’ll give her a call on my way to work. I’ll see you tonight when I get home, love you.”

“Love you too! Thanks” Amy exclaimed from the top of the staircase as her husband slammed their front door and followed the stone path outside towards his car in the driveway. He got into his car, started it, and slowly backed out of the driveway onto the road.

I’m so sick of this crap. I don’t know why she thinks she can rule my life. It’s ridiculous. I can’t wait until I don’t have to wake up with her next to me.

Inside the house, Penelope was stirring, wondering what was going on with her husband. Ever since he came back from his trip to Venezuela, he has been distant. Canceling dinner reservations with Amy that were planned months in advance was completely unlike him.

She went downstairs to the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. With ceramic mug in hand, she sat down on the tile floor in defeat. It was exhausting trying to figure her husband out. She had no idea what was going on in his head. Before she finished getting ready to leave for work, she gulped down her coffee and put her mug in the sink to wash later. She grabbed her purse from the other side of the black, marble countertop and exited to the garage to her car. Pressing the button to open the garage door, she adjusts her mirror and slowly backs out of the garage and driveway. The door closes slowly as she turns onto the road and accelerates towards the train station. She parks, scans her metro card, and jumps onto the subway that takes her into the heart of the city. Her art studio is located on the corner of Washington Square park off of 5th Avenue in Manhattan; the studio is her happy place. As she exited the station, she remembered that she left her breakfast that she prepared the night before in the fridge. Luckily, there is a great bakery a block and a half away from the studio. In fact, it’s where she first met Kevin. She heads south towards the studio. Upon arrival, she unlocks the door and sets her belongings down behind her desk. She quickly locks up again and heads towards the bakery. Her assistant, Michelle, won’t be there for another hour so she is not in a rush. She passes all kinds of people on her way there. She sees the young couples, the couples with children, the independent women listening to music and drinking their coffee, the men in business suits on their way to the office, and more. It always baffles her mind how diverse the city really is.

The bakery approaches quicker than she expected and she arrives in under ten minutes. A bell at the top of the door rings as she enters and she is quickly greeted by an elderly woman behind the counter.

“Hello there, love! What can I get for ya today?”

“Hey, Marcy! I think I’ll take a egg and cheese on an everything bagel this morning,” Penelope answered after a short pause. Marcy nodded with a smile and plucked a bagel from the racks to bring to her husband in the back with the complete order. She emerged again shortly after.

“So, how is everything? Haven’t seen ya in a week or so! Long time around these parts for the regulars at least. Studio going well and such?”

“I know. Everything is just so busy lately! I have a new woman working in my studio in addition to Michelle helping me out all of the time and the four other regulars I have every day. Everything is good, just busy.”

“I hear ya, dear. Life does get crazy sometimes. What about Kevin? How has he been,” Marcy inquired.

“Oh, you know. Just the same. Since his trip to Venezuela and everything...well, he just seems a little distant these days.”

“Jeez, typical man, doesn’t realize what he’s got! I wouldn’t worry too much sweetie. He’ll come around, they always do,” Marcy explains with a smile. Just as she finishes her sentence, her husband rounds the corner from the back room with Penelope’s bagel and a quick eye roll at what his wife had said.

“She’s a little loopy in the morning, Penelope. I wouldn’t listen to her if she’s talking jibberish. If she’s talking some sense, well, then I would listen,” he stated matter-of-factly. With a smile and a nod of thanks, Penelope set a five-dollar bill on the counter and turned towards the door.

“Thank you both, I’ll see you later,” she stated as she opened the door and exited the shop, the bell ringing again as the door came to a close. She walked back to her studio with a wide smile on her face, that couple can always cheer her up.

She walks slower than before, taking in the bright morning sky and all that surrounds her. Eventually, she arrives at the door of her studio, unlocks it, and swings it open. There is a set of light switches to her right that she quickly flips on to illuminate the light fixtures she crafted from mason jars last month, they really do brighten up the space well. As she turned back towards her desk, she saw something odd on the floor. Slowly, she walks to the back of her desk and around the curvy ending to find a note crumpled up and lying on the floor. She plucked it from the ground and read it, realizing it was just a sticky-note reminder that Michelle had written for her to call a client. Odd. She threw it in the paper shredder under her desk and sat down. The computer was on already and had her calendar open to today. Odd, again. She was the first person in here today. She looked up and scanned the room, nothing suspicious. She decided to ignore it and proceeded to look for the client phone number and give them a call. Upon a second glance up, she spotted something odd again. The closet door was cracked open and a shimmer of light was peeking out through the crack. Bagel still in hand, she gets up and slowly approaches the closet door. On her way, she picks up an exacto-knife from a workbench for some form of protection. Slowly, she places her hand on the doorknob and sheepishly pulls it out towards herself. Her bagel drops to the wooden floor with a quiet thump. There is blood everywhere, the walls and floor are splattered completely. Her mouth opens in horror at her discovery; what the hell is this. As she approaches the body, she catches sight of the static face; the dead body in her studio is Michelle. Her assistant, her confidant, her best friend, the one that keeps her organized and sane, is lying on the floor of Penelope’s studio, dead. She shrieks and shoves the door shut. Running across the room again, she quickly fumbles through her purse, finding her phone, but impulsively shoves it back into her purse. Panicked, she grabs her keys, locks the doors to her studio, and runs back to the metro station.

She gets home in under a half-hour but doesn’t feel right staying there. She drops her studio bag off and gets back into her car. The park in the center of her neighborhood seems to be the place to go at the moment so she drives there and parks her car in the corner of the lot away from other cars. She slowly gets out, locks her doors, and stuffs her keys into her purse. There is a dirt path throughout the entirety of the park that she walks on until the sun sets. The walks the whole path fifteen times before unlocking her car and driving home. By time she pulls into her driveway and opens the garage door, it is 2:30 AM. She creeps upstairs to her bed and tries to fall asleep with her husband snoring beside her. By five, she can no longer keep her eyelids apart and slips into a deep sleep.

Why won’t this bitch wake up. The couldn’t be more of a pain in my ass if she tried.

When she woke, her husband was staring at her from a chair positioned in the left corner of their room, facing the foot of the bed. Penelope jumped with fear.

“Jesus, Kevin! What the hell are you doing? You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

Yeah, I wish I could make you have a heart attack and kill you off that easily. Clearly, you’re not that simple to get rid of.

“Sorry, Pen. I just wanted to be here when you woke up. You were sleeping when I got home last night. I wanted to check in after what happened yesterday, make sure you were alright,” Kevin announced quickly.

Please, for both of our sakes, don’t ask me any questions.

“What do you mean? What do you know about what happened yesterday? I didn’t say a word to you,” Penelope remarked quizzically. She hadn’t spoken to her husband since yesterday morning when he had left for work in an abrupt fashion. Not a single other person knew of what happened yesterday either, only Penelope. She sprung out of bed and began to pace the room with her hand on her forehead. How could he know? She didn’t say a word to anyone. They only people she had spoken to were her husband very briefly and the two bakery owners when she purchased her bagel. She stopped and looked up at her husband who hadn’t moved or attempted to respond to her questions.

“What the hell did you do, Kevin?”

Shit.

“I have to go into the office today. I’ll be home later on. Why don’t you just try to relax today...you’re obviously on edge,” Kevin responded quickly as he gathered clothes from his closet to throw on before leaving the house. He clearly didn’t want to speak to his wife after her outburst.

“Oh, give me a break. What is going on, Kevin? How did you know about yesterday? I didn’t say anything to you,” Penelope stated as she began following her husband around the house, trying to intimidate him into giving her answers.

Why does she never shut up? How did I ever think marriage was a good idea?

After twenty minutes of following, he finally cracked.

“I thought it was you,” he muttered cooly under his breath with agitation, “I thought Michelle was you in the studio, I wanted it to be you.”

Penelope, mouth gaped open in horror, took a step back and away from the monster that stood before her. How does one react to statement like that? She had no idea, she could have never anticipated this comment. She obviously recognized his indifference towards her upon his return home from the trip to Venezuela, but she didn’t know the reason behind it. She thought it was just a bad trip that he didn’t want to talk about, maybe they lost a company or something of that sort; Kevin never wants to talk about issues like that with her because he feels she won’t understand them and their severity. She did not have the slightest clue as to what she should do, so, she ran. She fumbled down the stairs and turned towards the kitchen where there was a door leading to the garage, however, Kevin was right behind her.

Finally. This is is.

He grabbed at her hair and the hood of Penelope’s sweatshirt, dragging her down to the floor just at the bottom of the staircase. As she fell, her temple slammed down on the banister and, suddenly, everything went black. Later that morning, a neighbor called the police after hearing a gunshot come from Kevin and Penelope’s home. They broke down the door and came into the home to find two bodies lying on the kitchen floor, cold and ghostly white.