You know it’s too cold out when even I don’t want to go out and kill. Winter is such a tumultuous time in my line of work. On one hand, it’s too easy. People can die of exposure and fatal car accidents with little effort; on the other hand, frost bite. I like the snow and ice that accompany the bitter weather. I can use snow and ice and still complain about it to my coworkers. The cold, biting air is just a nuisance. A dangerous nuisance.
I couldn’t get my car to start yesterday and Ron said I could work from home which was nice because I hated the idea of braving that weather. However, working from home meant that I got to spend the whole day with my two maudlin serial killers.
In case you haven’t quite grasped my situation, both my son and my secretary/friend have killed someone and I have had to clean up after them. The truly tragic thing is that Heather has killed more recently than I have. Because I’ve been so busy cleaning up her mess. It’s been two weeks and she hasn’t left my house. She spent the first two days curled up on my couch not speaking, or eating, or sleeping. And then she spent a week shuffling around the house, switching between screaming and shaking, and crying and eating. I spent $200 on groceries last week because she just kept eating. And her screaming was barely coherent. She’s officially on medical leave (courtesy of her very understanding boss) which isn’t far from the truth.
I got the full story out of her last week which is what I expected happened. Her ex-husband ran out of money, got drunk, and decided to take her back forcefully. He beat her and demanded that she quit her job so they could move. After all their years of turmoil – fighting, and leaving, and her cheating, and him cheating – she just snapped. She killed him Saturday night and sat with the body until I found her o Tuesday night. I didn’t talk about this last week but the smell was just unbearable. She was more functional at her house with a decaying dead body than she’s been at my house this past week. She’s now at a place when she’s sleeping, and eating, and showering. She talks but only for five or ten minutes at a time and then she’ll start crying or yelling about “her”. Not me or Heather. This mysterious “her”. I have no idea what it’s about but at least she’s talking. We’ve been slipping her half a sleeping pill to calm her down but for the most part, she’s not dealing with what happened.
Jason has been handling his recent indiscretion with more ease. He spent a few days processing the situation after his father died and then he went back to work and started talking to me again. And I’m keeping to my vow; no more lies. I won’t tell him everything but if he asks me a question, I will answer honestly. This weekend he asked me if I had ever done anything like he had done and I said “yes”. He then asked if I understood what he was dealing with and said “no”. And then he asked me what to do next and I told him that there were two options: he could work to move on and live with the guilt, or he could learn how to do it better next time.
He’s going to start looking for psychotherapists tomorrow.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little hurt by his decision to cope and move away from the family business. After what happened to Sandra, maybe this is for the best. I told him as much but I don’t think he really understand what happened to his sister. He knows more than he did before. He’s growing up in a way I didn’t expect.
I hope he’ll be okay.
As always, dear readers,