They met in college and knew they were right for each other. She was an Art Major. He was years away from being an MD. They dated for a year and married. She dropped out of college to work full time and support him through his years of study to become a doctor.
Thanks to her, he got through med school with very little debt when he became a doctor. A year later, he began acting differently. She knew something was wrong, and he wasn’t as attentive to her.
She had the disturbing feeling he was cheating on her but couldn’t prove it. He was taking too many allegedly work related trips, and he often stayed at work late.
One day when she unexpectedly came home after lunch, she saw his car and an unknown car in their yard. She opened her front door and heard what was unmistakably her husband having sex with a woman in their bedroom. She ran upstairs told the half naked woman to get the hell out of her house.
She said to her husband, “How could you do this to me?”
He said, “You’ve gotten fat and boring.”
She said, “We’re through, packed up her things and drove to her parents house to stay there until she could get a place of her own.”
Though done with him, her anger morphed into rage. She thought about how she had given up everything to put him through med school. She thought about what an ungrateful son of a bitch he was. Then she got a little crazy.
She began driving around their city to try to find him with her. She had taken her father’s hand gun out of its gun cabinet and had it on the passenger seat of her car. She hadn’t any intentions to shoot her husband. She just wanted to frighten him.
But when she saw her husband and his slut girlfriend walking hand and hand on Oak Street outside the restaurant she and her husband used to dine at, she went even more crazy and changed her plans. Driving behind them, she blasted her car toward them and hit them both with it. When they were both injured on the ground, she drove her car back and forth over them until they both were dead.
She sped away after that and vanished without any clues to where she had gone. Despite five years of searching with many tips to her whereabouts, the police have never found her and have no idea where she fled to.
But somewhere in a seaside village, with her blond hair dyed black and her blue eyes covered with brown-eyed contacts, she paints portraits for a living and lives with a Swedish man who is a writer.
Bob Boyd