Duplicity (2 of 4)
The wife. The witch woman.
Back to part 1
Chapter two
“You look fine,” I tell my wife as she scrutinizes her reflection for the third time. “No need to change again.”
I sneak a glance at my watch. Almost eight. The witch woman will be here any minute. Should I reschedule? “Where are you going, anyway? You’ve never been obsessed with your outfit like this before.”
“You don’t notice these things.” Lily slips out of her dress once more. “And stop staring. We’ve argued about this before. I’m not staying.”
If only she knew I wouldn’t care this time. “At least tell me where you’ll be, in case I need to reach you.”
“Knowing you, you’ll call me until I answer.”
“Because I worry something will happen to you.”
“No. You’re paranoid and treat me like a child, not your wife. That's why.”
“I care about you.”
“If you cared, you’d want me to enjoy life instead of freaking out whenever I leave. Go out yourself sometime.”
“I’m not freaking out. You know how many criminals are on the streets nowadays?”
The skin-tight blue dress she wears now clings to her curves too suggestively.
I cross my arms. “Now you look like a hooker.”
Lily’s eyes flash with anger. She shoves me from her room, slamming the door.
I yell through the thick wood. “You’re not going anywhere dressed like that!”
The door flies opens, and Lily storms out in the ‘hooker’ dress. “I’ll wear what I want!” She brushes past me and races down the stairs.
“Someone will rape you!” I shout after her, but she’s already gone.
Chapter three
When the doorbell chimes, I check my home security app to see who’s outside. The camera shows the witch woman, so I disable the alarm and let her in. Of course, I’ve researched her background before inviting her. She seemed harmless, if a bit eccentric.
The short woman, perhaps in her late fifties, wears a flowery dress under a long overcoat, paired with quirky boots.
“You’re late,” I say as she follows me to my office.
“My grandson needed a hug.”
“A hug? You’re late for our appointment because of a hug?”
She looks me over, shaking her head. “You could use some meditation, my friend.”
“I’m not your friend.” I gesture to one armchair, taking another for myself. “Teach me how to clear my mind.”
“Let’s discuss the payment first.” She eyes my luxurious office. “You said you’d pay me whatever I want.”
“If it’s reasonable enough.”
“Five hundred.”
“For two hours?”
“I had to cancel an evening with my grandson for you.”
If I had a grandson, I’d pay more to stay away from him. But I’m not going to argue with her now. “Fine.”
“I need it now.”
“Do you suggest I’m going to rip you off?”
“Meditation can play curious tricks on the mind.” She arches one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t want you to forget your promise to me.”
I grind my teeth, pull out my wallet, and slam the money down on the table.
She makes the payment disappear as if she was an actual witch. “I think we better sit on the floor—“
“The chairs are fine.”
“As you wish. So, first…”
Half an hour later, she still hasn’t shown me what I need.
“I don’t want to meditate.” I glare at her. “I only need to clear my mind.”
If she rolls her eyes one more time, I’m throwing her out.
The first time I close my eyes and slow my breath, my wife’s face comes into focus before me. I try to clear my mind, but her image stays. It’s so hard not to think.
Calling our marriage a mess would be an understatement. It’s not my fault, unless marrying a much younger wife counts. My mistake was to expect her to stay with me rather than go out with her friends. Despite the luxury I provided for her. Every day, she’s off to yoga, meditation, horse riding, movies, theater, and who knows what else. Not to mention shopping where she spends a fortune. Sure, I can afford it, but that’s not the point. She should be with me, her husband, not her friends. Yes, I don’t go out, but it’s not safe out there. She should be more accommodating.
As for our sex life... Well... She must’ve found someone else. The private detective I hired discovered nothing, but he was a moron.
I yelp when something strikes my head. My eyes snap open. “What the fuck!”
The witch woman holds a heavy book in her hand.
“You hit me with that?” I scowl, shooting her a fierce look.
“Did you clear your mind?” Her lips curl into a smile.
“What?!”
“Your concentration isn’t bad… I had to use this to wake you up.” She raises the book, and I flinch away.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” I snap, still uncertain if I should kick her out. “Put it away!”
“You want me to teach you, but you don’t listen to me. You were supposed to clear your mind. What was so important that you couldn’t forget it?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Maybe if I knew—“
“Let’s try again.”
“If anything enters your mind, push it away. Got it?”
I clench my teeth and nod.
My thoughts consume me this time. I try pushing them away, but the memories flood in—meeting Lily, our first night, our wedding, and honeymoon.
I disregard the woman’s instructions and imagine darkness taking over my mind. It’s like a thrilling battle, overpowering my opponent with impenetrable black fog. It works, and I feel peaceful for the first time in years.
“Wake up!”
I open my eyes. “You interrupted again.”
“Did you clear your mind?”
“Kind of…” I describe my trick with the darkness.
“Not what I told you to do, but it’s a start.” She checks her watch. “I must go.”
“We’re not finished yet.”
“Practice every night, and you’ll clear your mind without this silly darkness. I promise.”
I don’t need her promises. I need guarantees. And the darkness is… mine.
It nears eleven, so I show her out, ignoring her offer of more lessons.
Once alone, I access the service I’ve discovered, and try locating my wife. The GPS I hid in her car shows she’s in the garage—she must’ve found the device and removed it again. Damn it.
NEXT: Duplicity — part 3
Love this story.