Marriage is Murder

Today was murder. My body aches all over. All I want to do is climb into bed but I have to get my clothes into the wash if I'm going to be ready again tomorrow.

I hadn't even realized how late it was until I pulled up to my house and saw all the lights off. That at least means the wife and kids are asleep. I pull into the garage and strip out of my work clothes, throwing them all into the washing machine set to the HEAVY soiled setting. I set my boots at the door and walk in wearing nothing but my boxers. I desperately need a shower.

I make a stop in the kitchen and open the fridge, hoping to find leftovers of my wife's amazing cooking. As I scan the shelves, I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise.

I'm not alone.

I turn quickly. I must be even more tired than I thought. I'm never this careless, especially at night, but I'm slightly more surprised to see my wife sitting at the kitchen table, clad in her bathrobe and her scowl illuminated by the light of the refrigerator.

"Honey...why are you sitting in the dark...in the kitchen..." I ask, both cautious and curious.

Her eyes narrow then immediately soften within a split-second.

"I was waiting for you, hun." Her arms are crossed over her stomach. "While we're asking questions, where have you been?"

I turn and close the fridge.

"Can we not do this right now? I'm really fucking tired." I step toward the living room.

"Tired? From what? Stalking people? Or killing people?"

I freeze. She's not supposed to know about that. Jesus Christ, am I going to have to kill my wife tonight?

"Honey..." I start.

"No, don't Honey me. This is huge, Chris. Did you really think I didn't know?"

My heart is racing. Nothing gets to me. Nothing is supposed to get to me. But right now I feel cornered by my wife and I really don't like that feeling.

"I've waited years, Chris. YEARS, for you to come clean with me. You promised there would be no secrets between us. When you asked me to marry you, I thought, Finally, its going to happen, we're going to be completely honest with each other! But that moment never came. Even after the wedding. After two kids."

I turn slowly to face her.

"I'm confused....how long have you known?"

She studies me and then she laughs derisively.

"Are you serious? My god, you are. I've always known, Chris. I thought you knew I watched you...didn't you? I thought..." She paused. "I thought you were letting me watch you. But you really never knew I was there?"

I am stunned. Ten years. We've been married for ten years, dated 5 years before that. No one has ever been able to hide from me. I've always known where my victims were.

"How?" I demanded.

"I...I don't know. I'd always thought this was your choice but now..."

"How?" I repeat, this time a menace creeping into my voice.

"Don't you take that tone of voice with me, Christopher Watkins," she hisses. "I am your wife, I am the mother of your children, and I have been murdering people far longer than you and I have been together so reel it in!"

I need to sit down.

I walk to the kitchen table and sit across from her, the woman I’ve shared my life with, albeit selectively, learning for the first time that we share a similar…hobby..

"We're both murderers..."

"Serial killers, my love. What we do isn't a crime of passion. We don't kill for personal gain. We kill because we love it and we're damn good at it."

"Who are you?"

For the first time I can see her clearly in the darkness, as if she’s finally let down some invisible guard that's shielded her true self from me all these years.

She smiles.

"I thought you'd never ask. Give me two minutes, then join me in the living room. Then I'll show you my true face.”