Oliver Benjamin
comes, baby. You’re about to transcend the earth and me and Ellie
too.”
“Fair enough,” Roy grumbled, “Even darkest perdition won’t be
as vile and endless as your fat fucking mouth.”
“Fair enough,” Bidden agreed. “Duel?”
“Duel.”
Of course, Roy did not die that night, not entirely. But Bidden might
as well have shot him through the heart, and he very nearly did.
When Roy turned to fire his gun, he found that, true to form,
Bidden had loaded it with blanks. Actually, he had loaded both with
blanks. He changed the blanks in his own pistol with live
ammunition from his robe pocket as he paced away.
Extreme drunkenness prevented Bidden from shooting straight
and this allowed Roy the chance to cower behind the large statue of
Aphrodite. It had been repaired since Colin’s thrashing years before,
but now the goddess of love found herself once again the target of
drunken aggression.
Bidden send a bullet through Aphrodite’s white plaster skull,
shattering it completely. In its place popped up the darker one of
Roy. Bidden could not help but laugh at the winsome juxtaposition,
but was interrupted by the screams of his wife and crying child.
Roy had not seen her come out. He only saw that Bidden turned
his head and took the opportunity to dive into the water. He hoped to
get closer, that the unlit water in the black-bottomed pool might
afford him some camouflage.
“Morris, what are you doing?” Ellie said.
“Ellie, get back in the house!” Morris yelled back.
“It’s late. What are you shooting at?”
“I’ll shoot you if you don’t get back in the fucking house!” he
warned, leveling the gun at her.
Ellie stood her ground. “Morris,” she said. “Are you okay?”
He could not let her know. Despite her infidelity, he did not want
to lose her.
“Why are you shooting at a statue?” she asked. “I’m worried
about you. Come inside.”
Morris looked at her and the baby. And at her. And something
shifted inside him.
“I love you, Morris,” she said.
“I love you,” he said.
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