I sit here with a glass of sauvignon blanc in my hand looking out onto the street. There is the familiar rush. A police van passes by, it's sirens lingering behind. Incase you are wondering if I am waiting for someone, no. I am not. I'm here celebrating in solitude.



I am Alison. I work as a magazine editor in New York. I come to this place every week, on Tuesdays. Or I used to, but I might start doing that again. Not for dinner this time. Just a glass of wine.



The weather is not too cold but I haven't removed my coat. It is like I am holding the glass with the last of its contents in a death clutch. My hands experience a new found power. If I am to remove my coat, I have a feeling I won't be human anymore. All of me would appear to float mid-air and when I look at my hands, I would see stardust around it. That, obviously, is in my head. That's how I feel. And I want to keep that feeling alive.



To say I am happy does not do justice to my feelings. I am content. Yes. I have done something right. Something that should have been done a year ago.



I had taken the evening off after finalising the next week's magazine. It's amazing how far these two events feel. Sitting here and sitting in my office reading the editors column to see if I wanted any change. I didn't. So after that, I walked out of my office. That feels like a different reality now. And practically speaking, that was just hours ago.



I wonder if any of the people here notice anything. It is so much. So big. But they have no idea. To them, I'm one of them. Dining here at a Saturday night. Though that statement is not wrong, but how saintly oblivious they are. I'm not saying that these same people won't push you down a precipice to gather gossip, some of them will but for now, they are saintly oblivious.



For now, I let them be that.



######





A year ago

__________________________________________



It was a windy Tuesday night. I had been waiting for some ten minutes when I saw Este step out of her cab in front of Olive Garden. She didn't catch me looking at her from the window. She made her way towards me with a smile. I smiled in return. I was happy to see her. When we were seated, I asked her, "How was your day?".



She said nothing. Before I could ask a second time, the waiter came. I ordered spaghetti. She ordered a salad. After the waiter was gone, I asked



"Are you okay?" I knew she was not. I've known her half my life. I could know when she was not okay.



"I'm not sure how I feel, Al" she said.

"Has something happened?"I asked



"A lot, I guess". Her reply came instantly. But then she fell quiet. She had more to say. "I went to the bank today. I needed few documents that were in the locker of our joint account. So, I went and got the documents. And..." She took her phone out and gave it to me. "I found this."



It was a ring. A feminine finger ring with a pearl at centre lined by diamonds in a Z pattern. "It was in a box. As I opened it, it smelled of rose."



Este did not like or own any pearl jewellery as far as I knew. And she could not stand the smell of rose without getting head aches that would stay for hours.



I looked up at her and was not sure what to say without it coming across as straight off brash or completely ignorant. Just then the waiter came in with the food. After he went, I said,



"What are you going to do about it?"



"I think I'm gonna call him out", she said, toying her food with her fork. She was not eating any of it.



"Can you think of any other incident?"

She put down her fork and said, "Now thinking about it, yes. I can. Not incidents but signs."



She was ruminating her words, meditating on the signs she overlooked. I watched her as she said nothing and was sorry that her marriage was failing. And that for her, it was not just failure. It was loss.



"I'm sorry, Este", I said. That was all I could get out.



"How can I prove it?", she asked me. "I'll bring it up tonight but I don't think I can prove anything. He'll say he bought it for me."



"Talk to him about it. And everything else that comes to your mind. Tell him what you're thinking and see what he says", I assured her, "I'm sure, Este, we can do something. He won't get away."



She left early. I told her to call me afterwards and say what had happened. Once alone, I noticed her plate was left untouched.





I waited the length of the following day but her call never came. By the evening, I was growing more and more restless. I called at her office but she wasn't there. I had made up a million scenarios in my mind. I just wanted to know if she was alright. I wanted to know what happened. It was very unlike Este. So, I decided that I would go to her house. I will take that chance. I cannot say if it was the right move but when I reached there, the house was locked. I could make nothing of it. I could do nothing. But I knew something had happened and something needed to be done.



I returned home that night feeling a thousand feelings crushing me inside. The next morning, I saw her face on the newspaper. A missing report had been filed by Arthur Dawson. That was her husband. Her treacherous husband. His story was that she returned home on Tuesday night agitated. On the next morning, she was nowhere to be found.



I knew Este. She just would not run away like this. Not from something like this. Had Este reached home, which he said she did, she would have confronted him. She would not have held back. She would have been heartbroken but it is not her to prefer to live in delusion. There would have been an argument, probably which included gaslighting and mansplaning. She would know what he is upto. She would have walked out on him, not run away.



I scanned the entire article. It made no sense. They called it a 'disappearance'. But a living, very real person does not just 'disapear', I knew that. No mention of an argument. Of course, that would suit him.



And why has she not contacted me?

No, she had not dissappeared. Something had happened to her.



A police investigation followed. I was questioned as one of the only people to see Este that night. I told them about the the ring, her husband and her decision. They would have questioned him in this regard, but without result. No evidence was ever found against him. He had plenty time to remove any. I could only imagine his excuse for his delayed reporting the incident to police. He was waiting!



The investigation continued for two-and-a-half-months. The file was never closed. People, they went on with their lives. The police had many more things to do than finding a woman who had disappeared after discovering her husband's infidelity. She was never found.



######



__________________________________________



Nearly a year had passed since Este went missing. Or maybe murdered. A person who has been missing for this long is very unlikely to be alive. They never found it out. They never updated it from a missing person case to a murder investigation. They simply abandoned it because they could find nothing. They found no dead body, hence, no crime done.



It had been a humid July day. With the sun setting, the weather turned windy and clouds appeared in the sky. Exhausted after work, I decided to walk with the cool winds. Then, I turned onto the path leading to the house where Este once lived. Maybe it was the weather that made me want to do it. The weather was oddly simular to the day I saw Este for the last time. I continued walking towards her house. It had changed, I noticed standing in front of it. I knew which one Este's bedroom was. The light was on in there. A shadow was moving inside. I wondered if he still slept in that bedroom. The window flung open and a blonde came into view.



A deadly anger surged through me. I ran. The more I ran, the more this fire like anger within me grew. It burned my bones and cracked open my soul. I ran to the only place I knew. I finally stopped in front of Olive Garden. I went in and took a seat.



"He did it" I said when I was alone. He killed Este and got away with it. I know he did it. Then his mistress moved in and took her place. She sleeps in Este's bed, eats in Este's kitchen, walks in Este's garden. I am sure of it, but I can not prove it. He did it, and I am not letting that up till the day I die. Sitting at Olive Garden, with the rain storming outside, I carved out my design.



I called Este's sister, Abby and asked her to meet me the next day. She worked at an insurance firm. If anyone would want to help me, if anyone wanted justicefor Este, it would be her. She came to meet as I had asked. There, I told her my plan and took her to the house. I made her see it for herself. And she recognised the blonde.



"I think she came to the office to take an insurance policy last weekend. Yes, I remember her. She caused a big fuss" said Abby. "That works in our favour" said I. "How much can you tell me about her?"

"I'll try sneaking out details" she said. It was good to know we were on the same page.

"Let's meet on Friday evening. We can discuss further" I suggested.

She agreed and said,

"Olive Garden, seven thirty"



Abby understood me. And I could trust her. I have known her for as long as I had known Este. I know her from when she was in high school. She was younger than Este by three years. The two sisters look very different, save their dark hair. Abby resembled their mother, long face, dark eyes, plain features. Este, on the other hand, had attractive facial features. Their parents had died in a car crash when Este and I were in college. I knew she viewed me as much of a sister as she viewed Este.



######



"Her name is Rachel White. She works at the RED Hospital as reception staff" said Abby.



We met on Friday evening as planned. She was telling me everything she could get about the 'mistress'.



"I think I'll go there" I said, "What do say about keeping a watch on the house?" "I'm in" she agreed.



"We'll take turns doing it and when she's there, I'll give a visit to the RED" I suggested.



On the next Monday evening, I wore brown contact lenses, applied a temporary hair colour mask and muted my skin tone with make up before heading to RED. Abby was keeping a watch on the house. The mistress was there.



I had tried to make myself look as distinguished as possible without leaving tracks. I had my hair coloured a proportion that would hide if I tie it carefully. I had changed my accent too. I attempted to adopt a cheeky personality.



I entered RED. The reception staff was dressed in white and violet. I walked about until I found a staff alone.



"Excuse me. Can you tell me where Rachel will be?" I said to her.



"Who?" she asked.



"Rachel White. She works here. Of course you would know her"



"Oh. Yes. She's in the cardiology department"



"Ah. Thank you. Which way is that?"



"Second floor. But she's not on duty now" she said.



I pretended to be disheartened by the news. "That's a shame. Can you tell me when will she be here?"



"Tomorrow morning. She has mornings here up till Friday."



"I can't come in the mornings, I suppose", I murmured to myself loud enough for her to hear.



"Why don't you go to her house?", she asked.

Interesting question.



"Oh, her boyfriend or something he is, he doesn't like when she has visitors. I did go once but he wasn't welcoming", I knew exactly what impression I was giving.



She was not amused with this news. She nodded, a thin line on her forehead forming, and said,



"Why don't you just call her?"



"I would, of course, if I could. But I lost all my contacts because my nice threw it in their swimming pool and the phone needed factory reset. Then, I realised I hadn't backed up my contacts. Silly" I blurted out, "Learned a lesson."



Her expression conveyed that she believed me. Even if she didn't, she would not question because she evidently was not a fan of the chitty-chatty nature that I showed.



"I'll just come back on Saturday, then. What time?"



"By seven..."



"I can come alright. Thank you", I said and took leave. Once outside, I took a taxi and called Abby to join me at Olive Garden.



She was already there when I arrived. I had tied my hair in the taxi, carefully to hide my coloured hair. I wore my two-way jacket the other way around now and my make up was wiped off. When secured at a table, I told Abby about my fruitful interview with the woman at RED.



After finishing my narrative, I asked,

"Can you, by any chance, get a burner phone number?"



I did not want her to be too involved in the, well, direct act. No trace should exist that would make any suspicion fall on her. She knew this and understood. But now, I would let her choose.



"I know where to get one", she said. She chose her sister.



"Whatever we're planning to do, it has to be over by this weekend."





######



The wind was flowing leisurely on Saturday, with a slight shade of grey in the sky but scattered clouds. Weather was favourable so far. The mistress was at the hospital. Abby had followed there her in a rental car booked with my name. Her car was parked beside the woods at the back of the house by me. I am standing in front of the house.



I remember how happy Este was when this house was being built. She talked everyday about it, said it was a perfect paradise, away from all interferences. Both of them preferred this secluded piece of land over high-society apartments. She told me once, "It will be first place I'll truly be home at."



She was killed in the same house.



I walked up to the door and knocked. He opened it, as gracefully as the day they had entered this house for the first time. He was stunned. He had known me from when he was dating Este, counting back to a decade ago. I was the maid of honour at his wedding and every party, weekend or funeral he has organised since, I have been there. And his only reaction to seeing me was a callous look that said nothing.



Following the former trail, today makes more sense. It is somewhat of an event.



I had a boating license made when I was fifteen. My father thought it was an excellent idea. I have cleaned many houses in my college years because no institution provides you aid when you have chosen an unconventional career stream like me. But, now I know how to cover up a scene.



"Hi. Can I come in?", I said.

He recovered his usual charming tone at once, said,

"Alison, yeah. Come in."

He stepped back, holding open the door to his ruin and I went inside.



######



I have never felt a rapture greater than what I felt today. Your hands shake, your heart races, every air particle pricks your spine only until you have done it. Until you have done it, you never know what it's like. It is not panic or anxiety, that was the planning. But this, it is quiet. More than quiet, it is peaceful.

A smile curves out on my lips. His body was lying on the floor by the door hinge, completely motionless. Life had left that body.



Abby came and helped me wrap the body and put it in her car boot. She drove through the woods to the other side, which connected to the peripheral edge of the bay. I did the little that was left to do at the house and headed to the bay from the front.



Few people were present there. It was a little windy but I could sail through it. The sky had darkened but clouds were still scattered. It would be a light pour at stretch.



I took us to the edge where the car was parked hidden. Abby got off to bring it. We placed it under our seats. I piloted towards the outlying flow, into deep waters and thickening wilderness. We disposed off the body.



I had told Este, "He won't get away." Now, I have made sure of it.



Turning around, we took a nice sail around the bay. It was a beautiful dusk by the bay. The last of the rays of the sun blended in the water on which we sailed. The bay was cooperative, listened to my movements. It helps you master the course, I guess, when your murdered friend's dead husband's corpse is in it. Or maybe, it is the time healing. Once out of there, I returned my rental car and went to Olive Garden with Abby. We had a toast to the three of us.



One for the victory,

Two for the fair,

Three for murder.



Abby left twenty minutes ago. I ordered another glass after she went, which I now hold in my hand. I take the last sip of it and put the glass down, releasing my clutch.

All the pieces have fallen into the right place, I have nothing else to fear. All of the abandoned plot-lines written by the stars are no longer chasing nothingness, they have intertwined, cascading every letter of itself in perfect alignment.

I am experiencing an euphoric capture. I look around myself and think of the glory achieved today which they are completely unaware of. Balance has been restored back to the scales on which the dead grieve. And with it, my sanity is restored. I have avenged my friend.