Free The Killing Vision by Will Overby

them from her.  But why would he?  He didn’t care
if she knew he was out with other women (he most assuredly had been), and he
didn’t care if there were telltale signs somewhere on his clothes (there
probably were).  What was worse was that she didn’t care either.  So why would
he hide them from her?  She had thought about asking him when he got up just
before lunchtime, but when he stumbled through the kitchen to the porch, he
looked like walking death, and she thought it wise to simply ignore him.
    After Joel stopped by, Wade had come back in and
cleaned up.  “I’m goin’ into town,” he told her.  He climbed into his truck and
barreled out of the driveway, his rear tires spitting gravel.  She had not seen
him since.
    This morning when he was still not home, she started
to call the police because he might have had an accident of some kind.  But she
didn’t.  It was, after all, not the first time he had disappeared only to
return later with no explanation.  He was like a tomcat out searching for a
female in heat.  It made her sick.  But she did not want to worry about it
because that was what he wanted her to do.  She knew he hoped she had been
awake all night waiting for him, expecting him to call and say he was in
trouble.  Or worse, for the state highway patrol to show up on her doorstep
with bad news.
    Instead, she called Joel.  She only meant to ask if
he had seen Wade, but instead she found herself sobbing over the phone and
telling him that his brother had been out God-knew-where for the past two
nights, and that she had no idea who he had been with or what he had been up
to.  And Joel had been angry; he hadn’t said so, but she could hear it in his
voice.  He told her not to worry, that Wade was probably all right, that the
two of them would have a chat, and for her to call as soon as she heard anything. 
She hung up feeling more than a little embarrassed, and somewhat fearful that
Wade would be furious with her for calling Joel.
    It wasn’t fair.  If Wade didn’t give a damn about
her, he should at least think of Derek.  A boy needed to have his father
around.
    She looked over at him now, sitting complacently
next to her in his crisp white shirt and khakis.  There were times when she
worried dreadfully over him.  She smiled at him, and he caught her eye and
smiled back.  He really was a handsome boy, she thought.  He had his father’s
dark curly hair and her dark eyes.  He was a looker already.
    “A- men! ” shouted the man behind her, making
her jump.  Derek looked at her.  Some of the teenage girls in the back had seen
her and they snickered.  Damn them , she thought.  Damn them to hell.
    When the service was over and she and Derek filed
out of the church with the others, Marla did her best to keep up the chitchat
with those around her.  Yes, I’m fine.  How’re you?  How’s that grandson of
yours?  Your kids enjoying their summer off from school?  Still like your job? 
Sure has been hot.
    She wondered about these other women in the
congregation.  Did any of these women have to live with what she did?  Did any
of them have to pretend everything was just grand when it was really black and
rotten inside?
    Sally and Rob Carpenter floated by in their new
Buick Regal like a dream.  Sally waved to her, like Queen Elizabeth in a
horse-drawn coach.  Rob owned an appliance store in town and Sally taught fifth
grade.  She tried to imagine them in bed.  Sally on her hands and knees, her
hair all disheveled and hanging in her face; Rob behind her, pumping away,
sweat pouring down his face, chest and arms, his thinning hair splayed across
his damp forehead.  Let’s push the envelope tonight, Sal.   She
shuddered.
    “Mom?” Derek said, and she looked at him.  “I was
talking to you.”
    She smiled distractedly and slid on her sunglasses. 
“I’m sorry, what?”
    “I said, can we go to Pizza Hut?  I’m starving.”
    She unlocked the car door.  “Not