I should have known it was a mistake to marry Todd. But I loved him too much to lose him to another woman. Todd was a perfect gentleman, and handsome too. He had the most gorgeous, sleepy eyes; some would even say, dreamy. And his golden hair was soft and slicked back, but not like a greaser. He kept it clean, neat, and always combed - perfect. That's what I thought our marriage would be - perfect. But I would soon find out how wrong I was.

We had a small but storybook wedding. We took a lavish cruise to Barbados, where we spent the remainder of our honeymoon drinking champagne, dining by candlelight, dancing, and making love until dawn. During the day we went sightseeing and shopping – plenty of shopping! One evening, just before we were to go out for dinner, Todd took me by the hand, leading me into a jewelry store and told me to pick out anything that pleased my eye. I left the store with a devilishly gorgeous diamond-studded tiger-claw bracelet on my wrist. I couldn't take my eyes off of it the whole time we dined on calamari, conch soup, and lobster.

On one occasion, while we were quietly basking ourselves on the beach, I asked Todd if we could afford to be so spendthrift. He replied with a "Tsk, tsk," and a whispered, "Don't worry about it." I'll be honest; I never knew how Todd made a living. I never asked, and he never told me. Our "courtship" was brief but heated. We were too passionate to think about anything but love. Practical things were never brought up in conversation, mainly because there never was much conversation. Our communication was purely physical. I didn't mention it again, and, instead, decided to sinfully indulge in the rest of our vacation. 

We took long romantic walks in the soft white sand on the shore. We had mimosas and bloody Marys by the pool for breakfast and fresh grilled mahi-mahi for lunch on the beach. We wined and dined and had a rapacious time every evening.

When we returned home, reality hit me like an ice-cold shower on an intoxicated bride. Since Todd told me he no longer had his place, we had decided to move into my tiny apartment. It was cozy, but it would make do until we found a house we both liked. That should have been a clue, but I was too dumb to recognize it at the time.

Days later, while sorting through a tall stack of mail, I almost had a heart attack! A letter from my bank had inquired why there were withdrawals of ten thousand dollars against my account in two weeks. My creep of a husband had robbed me blind!

Now I spend much of my time writing short stories for the creative writing class that I'm taking at the York Correctional Institution while doing time for stabbing my husband to death with a twelve-inch kitchen knife.

Cover Illustration and Story - Copyright © 2020 by Michael DeFrancesco