Violent Eulogy

Tragedy Comes In All Shapes And Sizes And Forms

"Alright." I stand up:" Thank you for your time Mrs. Gupta, I think I need to talk to Ms Tabitha now..."

She shakes her head, exasperated:" you think I'm a terrible person, don't you? Cheating on my husband while he is away... it's okay to think that. Sometimes I think I'm a terrible person too."

She whispers the last sentence, so low that I have to really lean in close to hear her. It's like she's sharing a secret with me... which I'm sure she is. Damned alcohol.

"I'm in no position to judge anyone Ma'am. It's absolutely none of my business."

It's true. I wasn't trying to be supportive or professional. I really wasn't in any position to blame someone else. I had a two year affair with a married man and then killed him off. I let a serial killer run free to cover my own ass. Chances were I was gonna kill another man before the month was over.

I was the very definition of a terrible person.

I clear my throat and firmly say:" You're not a terrible person Falguni. Life is short. And the more cruel thing would be to ignore ourselves for others."

Her eyes shine with a bright liberating happiness:" Oh... Thank you."

Our eyes lock in each other for a minute and I feel strangely close to her. Maybe even a little jealous.

Unlike me, she didn't lose the feelings of pain and shame.

Unlike me, she was able to feel guilt and remorse.

Unlike me, there was still a little hope left for her.

"I married when I was very young, you know. Barely sixteen.
I didn't talk to men, I didn't have feelings towards them, I didn't... I thought that was what being a good girl meant." Her lips tremble as she looks down uneasily and then lift into a sad mocking smile:" My husband, by no means didn't choose me. He chose my dad, my family name, what marrying me would bring him. Although I can't really blame him on this, that's exactly what me and my family did. I thought this was how things were supposed to be." Her voice trails off and she seems to be drifted away in her memories.

I'm a big fan of hearing people's life stories. Even the boring non relevant ones. The more you hear about someone, the more you can spot their motives and their weaknesses. And believe me, knowing someone, anyone, would come in handy one day.

So I claim back my seat on the sofa, lean in and listen to the depressing ramblings of the drunken woman carefully, there's something equally pathetic and powerful about a person trying so hard to justify themselves.

"I knew something wasn't right. Movies made married life seem so wonderful, so full of love and joy. And it didn't take me long to realize I would rather peek on the maid bathing, than to be intimate with my husband."

I stay silent as she throws her head back, laughing without any trace of real humor in it:" And the funny thing was, so did my husband."

I raise a brow but decide to keep quiet, drunk people spill their guts by nature, but they're like gazelles, one wrong move and they're out of sight.

"I saw him having sex with our maid." Her eyes fill with water as she remembers the pained memory from God know how long ago.

The sting of betrayal never truly heals.

"I was overwhelmed with emotions. Sadness, humiliation, pain. But most of all jealousy. Not because my husband preferred another woman to me. Because she preferred him to me."

I had a strong urge to wipe the tears from her face and without thinking, I act. I stand up and cautiously close the distance between us, sitting next to her and do it.

There will always be a place for the kicked and the beaten in my heart.

She continues: "He didn't deserve my loyalty. And I surely didn't deserve to suffer for him." She wipes her face, her tone getting stronger, her eyes lock into mine with a burning intensity: "I don't know if this justifies what I've done, but I don't care."

I wish that were true. But it isn't. Her life would be so much easier if she really believed that.

But she doesn't. And that's why she gets drunk while her girlfriend is around, while she feels the need to explain herself to a total stranger.

Something inside of her is pushing her to believe she's wrong and she's suffering because of it.

And as much as I like, there's nothing I can do to help her, there's nothing left to say.

I nod respectfully: "I trust you know what's better for you, and I hope you do what makes you happy."

Empty, meaningless words.

And we both know it.

"I'll ask Tabitha to join you." She says quite ladylike, and leaves with long steps, this time almost straight.

She keeps her promise, Tabitha walks with her usual seductiveness after a few minutes, she has changed her costume to something more usual. A red t-shirt and jean shorts and flashes me a genuine smile:" Falguni said you're a caring. That's a very rare quality in beautiful women."

I raise my brow at her:" Well, aren't you?"

She crosses her legs and smirks:" Me? I'll be whatever I'm paid to be."

I tilt my head, intrigued:" What are you like when you're not being paid?"

Her smirk grows bigger and reflects from her beautiful catlike eyes:" Thankfully I've never had much time to figure it out."

Ten minutes later, I'm driving on the road again, apparently, the two spent most of the time in the house, enjoying each other and not paying attention to what's happening around them. Tabitha's line of work makes her an excellent suspect, but she has an strong alibi for Tuesday night.

I'm back to square one again.

And I don't have more time to spend on this investigation. I have to leave a burglary involving thousands of dollars to try and save a violent alcoholic and at the same time make sure a damned hormone crazed teenager with daddy issues doesn't put me on an Electric chair.