Killing Me Softly (#Wattys2016)

FORTY-NINE

FORTY-NINE

Paula perched on the edge of the couch, anxious as she waited for Phillip to inspect her work. He'd said if it was found to be satisfactory, she could go across the street to Cindy Cross' house for the once-promised cup of coffee.

"Everything appears to be in order," he said. "You may go. But only for twenty minutes."

"Okay," she nodded, trying to keep the happiness from slipping through her lips.

"Well, I'm ready," he said.

"Oh, right," Paula said as she hopped off the couch. She helped him with his coat, kissed him goodbye and scampered into the bedroom once he was gone. She would wear the blue dress. That seemed to complement her skin tone. After changing into the dress and smoothing down her bun, Paula made the short trip across the street. For summer, it was a chilly morning and the breeze cut into her like a knife. She took a tentative step onto Cindy's stoop.

"It's okay," she whispered to herself. "It will only be twenty minutes, then you will go home and do your work."

Paula took a deep breath and brought a shaky finger to the doorbell, wincing as she pressed it. She waited. Nothing. Paula looked to her right. The silver car was in the driveway, so she must be home. Paula tried again. She rang the doorbell once more and waited.

"She's not here," Paula said aloud, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. With a final sad glance at the door, Paula turned to make the trip back to her house when the door swung open.

"Paula?" Cindy said.

"Oh, hello. I didn't think you were home," Paula said as she turned back to face Cindy.

"I had the blow-dryer on," Cindy said as the frosty morning air whispered through her hair. "Did you need something? More Sweet'N Low?"

"Oh, no, no, I just... well, you had mentioned having coffee sometime and I was wondering if you might like to have some this morning," Paula stammered.

Cindy shoved her hands inside the pockets of her blue terrycloth robe and leaned against the doorjamb. "Yeah, sure. Come on in."

With a grateful, gushing smile, Paula all but skipped inside and found herself facing the stylish, but toy-strewn living room.

"Excuse the mess," Cindy said as though she could read Paula's mind. "My kids were watching TV in here this morning before my husband took them to school. It's amazing the damage kids can do during the space of a thirty minute cartoon." Cindy gestured toward the kitchen as she began to bound up the stairs.

"Let me throw some clothes on. Just have a seat at the table, and I'll be right down."

Paula pulled out the oak chair from the table and sat down, perching on the edge. The Cross kitchen was so different from her own white-washed one. Cheerful yellow curtains decorated with diminutive blue flowers framed the kitchen window, which looked across the street to Paula's house. Two blue and purple plastic bowls were stacked haphazardly next to the kitchen sink, which was adorned with sponges, a half-full bottle of orange dishwashing liquid and a coffee mug with a yellow smiley face on the side. The stainless steel refrigerator was plastered with Crayola masterpieces, assorted colorful magnets, and pizza coupons. The table where Paula sat had a napkin holder crammed full of baby blue napkins and two yellow plastic placemats, each with a tiny buzzing bumblebee, beneath wet Cheerios and sticky fruit juice.

"Okay," Cindy said as she breezed in, now wearing a pair of jeans and form-fitting red t-shirt. "I don't drink decaf, so all I've got is regular. Is that cool with you?"

Paula nodded and smiled. "Oh, yes, regular is fine."

Cindy smiled as she went to pull out the coffee packets. "Good. Oh, and I use sugar and real full-fat milk. None of that creamer or Sweet'N Low crap." Paula winced and Cindy clucked her tongue. "Sorry."

"Your kitchen," Paula said, "it's different."

Cindy turned around from filling the coffee machine and looked at Paula. "Um...thanks. We like it. Still settling in though, you know. As you know we moved in a few weeks ago."

"Yes, you mentioned that."

"What about you? How long have you lived here?"

"About three years."

"Where were you before?

Paula felt her breath quicken. Phillip had been right. This was a bad idea. "The other side of town," she said, remembering what Phillip had always trained her to say if pressed for details. "My husband got another job and this neighborhood was closer."

Cindy put milk, sugar and spoons on the table before she slid into the chair opposite Paula. "That's funny. That's why we moved over here. Must be something in the water. Any brothers or sisters?"

"No. I'm an only child. So is my husband."

"Oh, I always wanted to be an only child. I have an older sister. We're three years apart. What about your folks? Are they still here?"

"Both my parents are dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yes."

Cindy wrinkled her nose. So, how long have you been married?"

"About two years. We were high school sweethearts."

Cindy's eyes widened. "Oh. Why did you wait so long to get married? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."

"He moved away and got married. She died."

"Hmmm. Wow," Cindy said. The coffee maker emitted a muffled beeping to indicate the coffee was done brewing. Cindy stood up and went to retrieve two mugs from the cabinet.

"You have children," Paula said rather than asked.

Cindy nodded as she poured Vanilla French Roast into the oversized mugs and brought them to the table. "Sure do. Are you and your husband planning to have children one day?"

"I can't have children. Besides, we don't want any."

"Oh," Cindy said as she dumped another heap of sugar into her coffee.

"How old are your children?"

"Jake is six and my daughter, Tracy, is four."

Paula almost dropped the carton of milk she had picked up. "What?"

Cindy narrowed her eyes. "Is something wrong?"

Paula felt her mouth go dry as she tried to regain her composure. "Tracy was the name of Phillip's first wife. I don't like talking about her."

Cindy stirred her coffee, the metal spoon clanking against the sides of the mug. "Okay, we won't," she said as she pulled the spoon out and blew into the toffee-colored liquid to cool it off.

Paula stared down into her coffee, her breath coming in short, heavy puffs. She was longing for the comfort of her pasty kitchen.

"Can I get you something?" Cindy asked. "An aspirin, anything?"

Paula shook her head before she snapped it up. "No. Phillip is the only one who gives me medication of any kind."

"Okay."

"I have to go. I told Phillip I would only spend twenty minutes over here. I have to clean the windows today. Thank you for your time." Paula scraped the chair backwards across the linoleum tiles, her feet getting tangled up with the legs as she did so. She managed to disengage from the chair and darted for the door.

Cindy watched her for a moment before she scooted her own chair back and rose to follow Paula, who already had the front door open.

"Paula, is something wrong? You can tell me what it is."

"No. No. I've already said too much."

Before Cindy could say anything else, Paula had zipped across the street to her own house, entered and shut the door.