He thought he was unlovable. When he murdered my mother he thought he became unlovable.
“I’m so sorry,” he thickly whispered.
“Don’t be. She was a horrid woman,” I said and hugged his defeated body.
I helped him dig a grave for her in the backyard and after we laid her in the dirt we scrubbed the blood from the floor and walls. I poured bleach everywhere and we scrubbed until our fingers were shriveled and near bleeding.
Her death draped his shoulders in agony.
“I killed your mother,” he murmured.
“Please stop saying that. She was not a good mother and I will never turn you in. We have a death secret. You are mine and I am yours,” I said. I wetted his lips with my tongue and kissed him deeply. “I love you.” He needed to know he was not unlovable.
We lived for many years close and unbreakable. With each other we soared above the Earth. Together we could reside in heaven. My life was beautiful with him. And then the neighbor’s dog broke free, entered our yard, and dug up the skeleton of my mother. The neighbor went searching for the dog and was led to the bones. The police were called. My lover confessed and I howled. I was twenty-five years old and we had lived a life of beauty for ten years.
I clung to him as they put the handcuffs on. “I love you, Daddy,” I spoke with a voice full of tenderness.
“I love you sweet girl but I did…”
“Don’t say it.” I pulled back. “I killed her,” I told the police.
“Noooo,” Daddy yelled.
“I love you more now than I ever have. You were never unlovable. I love you so much that I will not allow you to go to prison.”
In the end, the prosecutor was unsuccessful in gathering evidence and my Dad and I never confessed on suggestion of our lawyers. Dad and I went back home and I loved him and he loved me and sometimes at night, in the vast marital bed, we talked about falling in love with each other and how mother was a nosy nuisance. I was so happy the day she was killed. My father’s act made him more lovable not less.