Wednesday, August 17, 2011

The Only Good Girlfriend . . . .

She stood beneath the flames, tears streaming as the kindling caught, the increasing heat forcing repelling her from drawing close, the smoke stinging tear filled eyes.

The pyre had been built slowly over the preceding six months, the first branches of dried kindling added after Christmas and slowly accumulated through the summer months until now.  She never wanted her dead but she'd been an interfering bitch, turned up at inappropriate times, messaged, called and he was her man, no ex- girlfriend could be tolerated.

Her attitude could be regarded as neanderthal but he was her man and jealousy brought her back to primal roots, the competition had to be annihilated, this bitch had to go.  It wouldn't take the strength of a superhero to subdue this annoying germ that seemed to pervade her life and his. He didn't care, "she's nothing to me," he'd assured.

However, jealousy is a powerful emotion and she knew that Cara wouldn't be deterred, reinforced by the latest text message, "Henry, I still have feelings for you."

As the flames leap and the heat becomes intolerable, she can see the outline of the body in the centre of the fire. Regret? Nah, by morning there'd be little left but a femur bone fit for burying or feeding to the dog.

All was planned. Despite the jealousy and the dislike of his ex, she'd befriended the girl, betrayal on her mind. It wouldn't take 30 pieces of silver for her to cross this bitch. Months of liaisons, cafes, al fresco dining and staring into empty coffee mugs had secured Cara as a friend.

"Great that we get along so well . ." she'd said.
"Yeh," retorts Cara, "It's good that there's no hard feelings. After all, we've loved or love the same man."

Whilst she hated the incestuousness of the triangle she'd created, building such trust would lead to a successful entrapment. She just had to work out how. It happened when the three of them went to see Twisty Moose at the Hordern Pavilion. Cara was getting fresh, her hands all over Henry. Not in a lascivious way but with a flirtatiousness that sealed the deal. The three of them dancing close, him in the center, her gyrating against his buttocks was too much to bear.

In her head the odds were added up, a vote needed to be made, forgive and forget or make her pay no matter how illegitimate her reasoning, she had to pay. Rather than make a scene on the spot, she retreated modestly unnoticed by the gyrating boyfriend and his ex. She just hung by the bar with villainy on her mind. She wondered as the three of them left the club why he'd been so gallant as to offer the bitch a lift home let alone profer her a position in the passenger seat while she had to take her turn in the back like the mother in law.

The seething within became unbearable. How could he be so unfeeling, so unaware of his selfishness and lack of concern. Her mood exacerbated by the idiot bantering about Hill Top Hoods and the Herd, bands she hated beyond belief, bands he hated but seemed to take delight in promoting to his ex.

The base of the pyre now truly alight, the early blue flame gives way to white as the smell of burning flesh reminds her of the barbecue gathering, the moment that sealed both their fates. He'd taken the call even though he'd vowed he'd never talk to her again. She was in desperate need, her car had broken down, nobody else to help, no money to call a tow. He apologised and made haste to assist. She'd insisted on coming with.

"No that's fine," he'd said, "You stay and enjoy yourself."

The numbers didn't add up, there was no complex calculation required, just a pattern emerging as it does when you complete a Rubik's cube or solve a complex sudoku puzzle. She was going with him and that was it. Her stranded without her ID or phone. Him eager to assist, She gave him an ultimatum;

"This is it, I've had enough, this is your last chance to say goodbye, end it, finish it"

"But I thought you were friends?" he'd asked.

"Really? You that stupid Henry . . keep your enemies close." she'd replied.

In this instance, 1 and 1 did not add up to 2 so the third party had to go. If he thought he could maintaining the trio he had another thing coming, pigs will fly, jealous, green pigs at that.

She'd been as heavy as concrete to lug out of the ute, drugged and barely conscious, she almost hoped that Cara could resist, enough to plant legs firmly on the ground and assist but no, she had to be dragged, buried with the dried kindling and more piled on top.

Standing even further back now as the conflagration explodes into a Hellish flame, she wipes the tears, acknowledging that they were tears exacerbated by smoke whilst her head was really cool and her heart was actually singing. This was a thing of beauty, enemy ignited, problem solved.

Not quite, she needed to work on a getaway, disappearing with Henry of course - perhaps overseas, hiking in Patagonia or getting lost in Chile - people always get lost in Chile.

She was heartbroken as their plans simply fell apart. Distance between them became evident. No more Honeymooner's disease to remind her of constant sexual contact with Henry. Everything was crumbling.

The femur bones turned up as bulldozers cleared the block in preparation for a new suburb and questions were asked. He'd looked at her with suspicion in his eyes and wondered why the two girls had ceased to share lunch, share him.

Everything was decaying, walls falling, plans failing. Even if nothing came of the discovery there were questions, interviews and she was implicated, but they couldn't prove a thing. Henry on the other hand had made up his mind and left her.

She'd burned the candle at both ends, gone past midnight, burned her bridges. In fact, she'd proven to herself that the only good girlfriend might be a dead one, but the price had been too high.