by Robin Fischer

 

Rain on concrete, you could smell it smashing The Lucky’s parking lot wasn’t full. Not by a long shot. Gordon had a easy view of his wife’s 1998 Toyota three rows away. Rain beat down on his roof, the palm trees planted in parking islands slanted and shivered from the wind. Gordon zipped up his jacket and rubbed his hands together. Man, did he hate February.

For twenty minutes Gordon had been watching the supermarket automatic doors slide open and closed. She wasn’t supposed to be in town right now. Earlier in the week Deb told him she was going to Denver for a business conference. Short notice, as always. But now she was here shopping for groceries, an hour after her supposed flight left, shopping for groceries.  Maybe she missed her flight, maybe her watch broke, maybe she told me the wrong time, Gordon thought. Though, he didn’t believe any of that.

Maybe if he hadn’t caught her coming in so late for the past month he would have believed her. Or maybe if she hadn’t left home right after making him dinner. Or maybe if her number of out of town trips hadn’t increased so much. Or if she hadn’t been so distant  or a million other things, then he might have believed her. But he didn’t, so now here he was following her around town like a goddamned stalker, trying to prove to himself the situation wasn’t what he thought.

He had taken off a few minutes after Deb, careful to space his car enough behind hers to be discreet and go unnoticed. First she went to Peet’s, he knew her order (decaf pumpkin latté, ridiculous) as he watched across the street. Maybe she figured there was just enough time to get coffee before her flight, until she took a seat and unrolled a San Francisco Chronicle left on the table. She browsed it, lazily flipping through newsprint. Gordon’s legs fell asleep. He turned on NPR and drummed his fingers against the dashboard. She put down the paper threw away her cup and strolled out to her car.

Immediately his phone rang. The screen read Deb and had an animated heart next to it. He held it in terror almost until the end of the ring before answering. “Hey babe, are you at the airport yet?”

“Oh, yeah there was no traffic on the way here. I just passed security and I just wanted to say love you and I’ll be back Monday.”

“Really? The security line really went that fast?”

“Yes, it was remarkable, they’ve really loosened up on regulations. Didn’t even take my toenail clipper.”

“Well have a good flight. See you on Monday. When do you get in again?”

“Eight, have a nice weekend, dear.”

Click. She said 6:30 before.

 

He remembered the conversation they had before she left this morning. Deb was doing her hair and Gordon was lying in bed, face down.

“You really cant put off this trip till next weekend?”

 “The company needs to expand their number of distributors,” explained Deb as she tugged on a pair of nylons. Gordon looked at the smudge of drool on his pillow and flipped it over.

“But we haven’t seen each other in so long.”

“Don’t be silly, I can see you now. And I haven’t even got my contacts in.”

“You could put it off for a week. Come on, Deb, baby, you sell soap.” He knew he shouldn’t have said that right as the words came out. She flared up, slamming the bathroom door while turning on the electric toothbrush and flipping the hairdryer to high.

 

·

 

He lost sight of Deb when a red stopped him, a wave of cars flooded the intersection and when it was finally Gordon’s time to go her car was lost. Discouraged, confused and tired he began returning back home. Looking up at the clouds through the windshield, he decided there was no chance of the sun returning, at least not today. The wipers snapped back and forth but not quick enough to keep the outside from becoming surreal and distorted. After a few blocks the car started to look strange as well, and Gordon began to suspect it might not be the rain changing things. His foot started to become numb as he tried to drive faster, just wanting to get home. Then the foot lost all feeling. Then the foot couldn’t move.

And then his car hit the one in front of him.

 

 

“Mr. Weir? Mr. Weir? Oh Doctor Stevens, Mr. Weir’s awake!”

Gordon heard a nurse pitter patter out of the room and someone else, presumably Dr. Stevens some in.

“Excuse me, Mr. Weir, we were worried about you for a bit. ”

Slowly, Gordon lifted his eyelids. They were heavy and his vision was blurred. He was lying in a hospital cot, with a young red headed doctor staring over him. Gordon tried to keep his eves from wandering down to his forearm, where an IV protruded.

“Ehhh… why am I in here?” Gordon wheezed, his mouth dry.

“Well, Mr. Weir, to begin with I’m doctor Stevens.  You were first brought in because you were in a car accident. An ambulance brought you here five days ago for that, but we found some irregularities on a chemical scan.”

“Where’s Deb?”

“I’m sorry sir, is that your wife?”

Gordon nodded.

“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Weir, the hospital, insurance company or family members weren’t able to contact her. Your brother was visiting earlier but he left about an hour ago, we’ll notify him you’ve regained concisions. Now, if I may continue?”

Gordon nodded again.

“We think those chemical irregularities lead to paralysis of you right foot, possible hallucinations and inability to drive leading to the crash. Now, Mr. Weir, have you been taking any possibly tampered with medications lately?”

“No.”

“Any suicide attempts?”

“No, what are you getting at?”

“In your chemical scan we found extremely high –fatally, high, actually- traces of rat poison in your body.”

Poison, Gordon went cold.

“Oh, don’t worry Mr. Weir, we have given you treatments of vitamin K – an antidote of the toxin you injected.”

Someone poisoned me, someone wanted me dead, Gordon thought.

“Now, do you have a rodent problem in your home?”

            Oh my god, who wanted me dead?

            “Mr. Weir, I know this may seem… rather extreme, but did you have any enemies?

“What I’m saying Mr. Weir is, is it possible some one was trying to kill you?”

Gordon shook his head. Deb. It had to be her.

            It made since, she always fixed his meals in the kitchen while he watched tv in the living room. She was leaving that day. She had made him leftovers for the whole weekend. She must have figured it would come this weekend, he thought. God, she could be in Mexico by now. I knew she was sick of me, he thought, I knew she was hiding something.