The Mistake

  Anita sat in her apartment staring at the wall. The dim light of dawn was starting to creep through the blinds and leave streaks on the wooden floor. It was a cold fall morning and she shivered slightly in her oversized wool sweater. Pulling it closer, she noticed it still smelled like Ryan. He had put it on only hours before as the two of them walked down the stairs from his apartment building to the sidewalk where their cab sat waiting at the curb to take them to dinner.
  "Do you like it?" he had asked. "I just got it this morning."
  "I love it," Anita had said with a smile. "Do you like my outfit?" she asked him, doing a little twirl in her short dark green dress. It was rare for Anita to wear anything with a skirt above her knees but there had been no bruises for a while and she had fallen in love with this color.
  "I love anything you wear," Ryan told her as he opened the door to the backseat of the cab.
  
  Anita looked down at her lap now. Her beautiful green dress was ruined. She would have to throw it away. Or burn it. The bottom hem was stretched from running and even though she could not see any stains through the sweater she knew they were still there.

 "Oh I love this place," Anita had exclaimed as the cab stopped at a cozy little restaurant front and Ryan opened the car door.
  "You have been here before?" he asked, sounding surprised.
  "Last week," Anita told him, sliding out of the seat. "My friend Grayson from work took me to lunch here."
  Ryan paused in the middle of closing the cab door behind Anita.
  "You went to lunch with Grayson?"
  "Yes, I thought I told you that."
  "No you didn't," Ryan said, in a grave voice.
  "Hey buddy, would you close the door? I got a job to do!" the cab driver's voice called out.
   
 Even now Anita could still clearly hear the ringing sound the door had made when Ryan slammed it shut. She thought she had heard cursing from inside, no doubt the driver did not appreciate Ryan's attitude.
    The light of dawn was getting brighter but brought no warmth. Anita wanted to turn on the heat but she could not bring herself to get out of her chair. Suddenly she felt a vibration in her pocket. Reaching down she grasped the rectangular shape of a phone. Her phone was in her purse. This one must be Ryan's. She wrapped her hand around it and pulled it out of the pocket. It vibrated rapidly and the screen read, "Mom." Anita gasped and dropped the phone. It vibrated across the floor for a few seconds and then went still. The screen went black except for the outline of Anita's thumbprint etched in red. Another thing she would have to throw away.
 She looked down at her hands and had to choke back tears. In the darkness she had not been able to clearly see the blood. Now as her apartment continued to lighten, it was very obvious.

 "Isn't it obvious why I'm upset?" Ryan had barked, pacing back and forth across his kitchen. He took off the sweater he had been so proud of earlier and threw it across the room onto the table.
 
"I know you don't like Grayson but you could have at least had dinner with me and let me explain," Anita answered, her stomach beginning to grumble.
  "Explain what? How you are seeing him on the side? About how you two are in love?"
  "In love? Ryan he has a crush on me but I told him I am with you. He is harmless. Can you stop acting crazy like this?"
   Anita felt Ryan's hand fall hard across her face. She gasped at the harsh sting on her cheek.
  "You promised you wouldn't hit me anymore," she winced, holding back tears.
  "And you said you would not be alone with Grayson."
  "We weren't alone, we were at lunch," Anita snapped.

  Now she realized it would have been better for her to stay silent. She closed her eyes and could feel his rough hand across her face again, his fingers grasping and pulling her hair and the pain in the back of her head as he slammed her against the wall. Her own hands shook now as she remembered the feel of his hot breath on her neck and face as he yelled at her for what seemed like hours.

   "Ryan please stop shouting," she had pleaded with him, tears streaming down her face. "I did not do anything wrong."
   "You're seeing another man behind my back. What do you call that?" Ryan demanded.
   "I'm not seeing anyone else. You're not thinking clearly because of your jealousy."
   
  That was the last thing she would ever say to him. The rest was a blur. Anita remembered him saying something about getting a drink. She had watched him through tear filled eyes take a bottle out of the cabinet. The next thing she knew it was smashed against the counter, pieces fell to the floor and Ryan stood leaning with one hand on the cabinet and one clutching the bottle top. He took a deep breath and looked over at Anita, dark purple liquid pouring over the counter edge onto the floor.
  Still clutching the bottle top, Ryan began to walk toward her, the jagged glass edges dripping wine. Anita had panicked and grabbed the first thing she could find, a letter opener on the table next to a pile of mail.
  The blood had gone everywhere. Anita had heard about arteries spurting when stabbed but she never thought she would actually witness it. Ryan had stumbled backwards and fallen to the floor, hands clutching his neck, his eyes wide in shock. Anita stood shaking as he gasped for breath. She watched as tears welled up in his eyes and he pointed at something behind her. Turning around she saw a trash can sitting next to the kitchen table. 
  Her mouth dropped open and she turned back to Ryan who clutched what was left of the bottle top in his hands. She fell to her knees in the shattered glass and burst into tears as Ryan took his last breath and then lay still.

   She had no idea how long she had laid there but it was still dark when she put on Ryan's new sweater over her blood stained dress, snuck down the backstairs out of his apartment building and quickly walked the two blocks to her own. She had not bothered to turn on the lights, she simply felt her way to her favorite chair by the window and sat down.
  Now it was daylight and decisions had to be made. What to do with the body, how to dispose of her dress and his sweater, how to explain to his loved ones what had happened without implicating herself, how to live with the guilt of what she had done.
  Murderer. The word came to her mind before she could stop it. She repeated its three ugly syllables over and over to herself until she couldn't take it anymore. The apartment was full of light now. There was no more hiding the blood stained dress and hands. No more hoping it would all go away. Ryan was gone and she was guilty.
  His phone still lay on the floor flashing a little blue light to let its owner know he had missed a call. A call from the woman who loved him more than anything and would never again be able to tell him so.
  She needed to know what had happened. Anita needed someone else to be part of her misery. It was too much to bear alone.
  Reaching down, she clasped the phone with her blood stained hands and hit re-dial. Putting it up to her ear she listened as it rang waiting to be answered. Finally a voice spoke at the other end of the line.
  Anita cleared her throat. "Hello, Mrs. Jones? This is Anita calling, Ryan's girlfriend. I need to tell you something."