RED WINE

RED WINE

By Randy Romero

Thirteen years of marriage was more than enough for Rachel Ellis. It wasn’t just Michael’s arrogance or his competitive nature. Everything about him sickened her; from the way he chewed his food, to the tacky ties he wore with his suits. Or how he expected Rachel to do all the cleaning, wash all the dishes, and fold all the laundry.

She might have been able to look past his imperfections and his vexing behavior, if it were not for his infidelity. That was the final strike. Rachel had hired a private detective, who discovered Michael had been having an affair with his co-worker, Cindy. And Patricia in human resources. And Linda, his boss’s secretary. And Annie, his supervisor. And Jackie from the mail room. Michael had been sleeping with half of the office he worked in. And this maddening discovery was all the motivation Rachel needed.

Two drops of poison was all it took.

Rachel had prepared a sumptuous feast that evening, comprised of braised short ribs, roasted red potatoes and baby carrots, sautéed mushrooms and broccoli rabe.

Michael devoured nearly the entire meal before he even touched his Merlot. Just as he was almost finished with his dinner, he reached for his glass.

Rachel watched in sheer ecstasy as her husband took a fatal sip of red wine.

He retched at the bitter taste, and his eyes turned red and teared up. His glass plunged to the floor and exploded into shards. His face turned red, then purple as he clawed at his own throat, struggling to breathe.

“I poisoned your glass when you weren’t looking,” she said, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “If it’s any consolation, it’s not just for the insurance money. This is for every woman you’ve ever fucked behind my back.”

She raised her glass in twisted celebration, drained it in one gulp, and soon she was on the floor with Michael, gasping for air as her face turned as purple as her husbands.

Sprawled out on the floor about five or six feet apart, they locked eyes.

“I guess it’s true what they say,” Michael said through ragged, laborious breaths. “Great minds think alike. You poisoned my glass, and I poisoned yours.”

“Why?” she cried.

“Insurance money. We were going broke. I needed the money and I knew you were sick of me and you’d try to leave me eventually.”

“I’ll see you in hell,” as she took her last breaths.

“Not if I get there first,” he said as his eyes fluttered, then closed forever.