Chapter Twenty-Eight
The next morning, I told Vic everything I had undergone the night before. I described the pain and grief I felt upon finding his body, and the horror of killing Matthew. I had experienced the visceral end of a life by my own hand; I had stood there and watched as a man’s soul left his body.
There was a gentler aspect to Vic after that. I don’t know if it was because he realized just how much he meant to me, or perhaps because he could finally see our lives intertwining.
I think it had more to do with the vengeance I had taken in his name.
We went downstairs, Vic leading the way. Matthew was exactly as I had left him, though the smell of the body filled the room. Vic let me go back to my bedroom while he disposed of the young scientist. I’m still not sure what he did with him, but when Vic next gathered me into his arms, they were covered in dirt. I’ve tried since to find a disturbance in the grounds of the house, but so far have found nothing.
That afternoon, I learned what Vic considered my reward. I went into my bedroom, and found that there was a white silk dress, a lace embellishment at the hem, and at the plunging neckline. The fabric was sheer enough that my nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, which danced around every curve, its lightness hugging and brushing my body in turns.
When I turned around, Vic took my left hand, and slipped a ring onto my finger. The way in which he made me his wife had a simple sweetness to it that felt both strange and heartbreakingly beautiful within the circumstances of our relationship.
After about two weeks on the ventilator, Theresa finally succumbed to her injuries. For the very first time, I saw Vic cry. He gripped himself to me, his tears wetting the front of my blouse. I think Theresa must have meant a great deal to him, even at the end.
A month has passed since I killed Matthew, and I have experienced no inexplicable episodes since. In that time, Vic and I have moved all of Matthew’s papers upstairs. They cover the tables of the foyer, office, and kitchen. The floor is strewn with our own workings, as well as books and articles on code breaking.
So far, we have been unsuccessful in transcribing the bulk of his work. I had some success decoding a few old journals. It seems that during Matthew’s first year of medical school, he began experimenting with his methods of encoding. He first used a simple substitution, and this seems to have nothing in common with the codes he would go on to employ.
It is hard to say whether there is anything of value in the early journals; it seems Matthew achieved little during that first year.
I have catalogued all the chemicals in Matthew’s bedroom, and we have gone through his equipment and collection of books.
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It’s a beautiful day in May, and Vic is sitting on the porch bench. The sun warms my skin and the smell of the damp earth fills the air, as I step out onto the porch to join him. I carry with me a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses.
Vic smiles when he sees me, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling slightly as he takes in my appearance. I am wearing a violet-colored sundress and my bare feet move silently across the wooden boards of the porch.
I sit next to him and pour him a glass. Vic takes it in one hand, and uses the other to pull me tight against his side. His hand rests on my hip, and he presses a light kiss to my cheek.
In these moments, it’s easy to put aside the issue of the unbreakable code, of a goldmine just out of reach. It is easy to forget the suffering which brought us here.
In these moments, I think I understand what happiness truly is.