I was hoping that the longer I was with Frieda, the more she would loosen up, accept me, and maybe even be a little friendly. She didn’t, though. She remained as cold as ice the entire time. Sometimes it depressed me but usually, I found that it angered me. It was silly, it was pointless, and I knew damn well I hadn’t done anything to deserve such hatred. How the hell could a simple difference of opinion lead to such hostility? I just didn’t get it. I only knew I didn’t deserve such verbal and emotional abuse.
But I didn’t have enough money saved yet to fly back to the States. I needed another month of savings at least. I decided I would go to Florida. It was a relatively cheap state and it was warm there. First, I thought of going to Thailand but decided against it since I didn’t speak Thai and thought that would be harder to learn than other languages I had learned at least some of.
Then one night it happened. It was a moment of opportunity. A heat-of-the-moment thing.
Frieda was standing on a small step ladder hanging up a spider plant in the corner of the living room. She had been belittling me for hours and I had had enough. Fed up, I kicked the step ladder out from under her with a strength I didn’t even know I possessed. It was a good thing the neighbors below us weren’t home that evening because she went down with a mighty thud. I was terrified at first because I didn’t expect to harm her, but I sure expected her to harm me as furious as I knew she would be. She was nearly a foot taller and even if I exercised more, mostly out of boredom, I was sure she could hurt me if she was angry enough.
Instead, she hit her head on the corner of a table and lay perfectly still on the floor, back facing me. At first, I was afraid to approach her and stood rooted to my spot, frozen with fear. I was afraid that if I approached her, she would spring to life like the monsters in those movies where you think they’re dead but they’re not.
After what seemed like an eternity, I finally worked up the nerve to approach her. I stuck out my foot and tapped the small of her back.
No movement.
I waited a few more minutes and this time I nudged her with my foot a little harder and for more than just a second. She still didn’t move. I supposed the next thing to do would be to feel for a pulse but the thought of that scared the shit out of me. Still, I needed to know if she was dead or simply unconscious.
“Frieda. Frieda!” I called to her.
Not a sound.
On trembling legs, I knelt down beside her. I listened for sounds of breathing but didn’t hear a thing. Next, I put a couple of fingers on the side of her neck to feel for her carotid pulse.
There was nothing.
I finally got brave enough to roll her onto her back and saw the blood by her temple. I was still shaking uncontrollably. I was shocked, horrified, and not at all sure how to proceed from there. Should I call the police and say she fell by accident? Well, I certainly wasn’t going to call and confess to pushing her, so it was either report it as an accident or figure something else out. I really didn’t have many options. If I didn’t report it, then all I could do would be to either run or try to cover it up.
I sat with my back against the couch, knees drawn up to my chest. I stayed there thinking for hours. The couch was in front of the slider and as I went over all the pros and cons to each possible option, the sun faded from the treetops which were all I could see from my vantage point. You had to stand up in order to see other buildings.
Finally, I did just that and closed the vertical blinds.
I had made my decision.
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