What if I poisoned you all?
Sonja smiled at her dinner guests as she allowed the thought to simmer in her head.
She wasn’t angry, and the thought didn’t come to her like a spark of a light bulb. It languorously crept inside her mind; slithered in like a snake, belly-sated and sleepy.
She watched the people at her table gorge themselves of the feast she had slaved over: rosemary Dijon prime rib, creamy au gratin potatoes, Cajun spiced chicken, and savory roasted veggies. Food is power, she thought as her guests enjoyed the hearty fare. Had she chosen to, she could have cooked it in a way to make them all sick; run to the bathroom before their guts exploded. Or worse: she could have added something to murder them all.
Sonja sipped her red wine slowly, savoring it as she savored her heinous thought. Someone in the table praised her Cajun chicken saying it was the best he’s ever had. She smiled graciously and thanked him.
The only problem with murdering them all is that she’ll be blamed for it. She prepared and cooked the food; and, if the only one left standing, she can’t point the blame on someone else, could she? Unless… Unless she chooses to save someone for that purpose… Or maybe she could be magnanimous and save someone just because.
Food is power; I can choose who lives or dies.
Had she planned it, would she be the queen of hearts, pointing to whose head stays or goes on a whim, like a child with no thought of consequences? Or would she be more deliberate and choose with care?
One by one, she leisurely eyed each person at the table; smiled at every one of them, tickled at the idea none of them knew of her thoughts as they each smiled back.
Who would I save?
There was Matt.
He and she have been together for 8 years. Living together, she emphasized. He has yet to propose to her and she pretended not to care. She was a strong modern woman, he had said during the one and only time they had discussed marriage. Why would she need a piece of paper to tell her that she’s worth something? She agreed then and had never mentioned it again.
There was Sam, Matt’s friend.
Sam was, in fact, his oldest friend, as he often would point out to her during their arguments. Matt’s loyalty to this friend of his is legendary; he’s rescued Sam from many scrapes and failed relationships.
Sam, by the way, was short for Samantha.
Then there’s John and Jennifer.
They always come as a pair, these two: interchangeable; two for the price of one. They’ve been married for as long as she and Matt have been not; and they’ve all known each other just as long. They have twin 3-year-old boys – brats, really; spoiled by parents who thought them to be living blessings from Heaven. Ever since John and Jennifer had those kids, their lives revolved solely around them; so much so that she was surprised when they RSVPed they could make the dinner party. Three years ago, she and Matt had stopped inviting them to anything and lost touch.
Frankly, they were here only because Sonja included their address in the group email by mistake. It should have been a cozy dinner for 4, not 6.
Finally, Christian.
Christian was the newest addition to their circle. She met him at a gallery opening, and it turned out he knew Matt as well. Small world. But she didn’t mind him. He was refreshing, a crisp new shirt in a closet full of worn-out clothes. She was tired of her wardrobe and Christian had been the answer for a while; friendships are always exciting when they’re new. But new shirts fade, as this one did. It no longer was enough.
God! I need to change my entire wardrobe…
____
Matt eyed Sonja as he chewed his mouthful of Cajun chicken.
He was glad that she’s happy; she seems to be, anyway. For the past year, she’s been showing signs of discontent at their arrangement. It’s been 8 years, the longest he’s ever been in a relationship. He’s pretty proud of himself for enduring that long; but he can’t go on anymore. He’s in love with someone else; someone he’s known for some time, and all they’ve had to share were quickies and text messages deleted after reading. After dinner, he will tell Sonja that it’s over. He raised his glass to her, wishing the night was done.
____
Sam laughed at something John and Jennifer said about their twins.
She laughed a little too gaily; she really didn’t care about their kids nor anyone else's. She smiled at Matt, a twinkle in her eye. She liked teasing him with her little body signals: a slight crinkle of her nose; a gaze held just long enough; a quick rub of her ear. Sonja knew that Sam has known Matt for a long time; but she didn’t know that Sam has known Matt for a long time. They’ve been sleeping on and off for years. It did have its hiatus for a while, during the first few years of Sonja’s and Matt’s relationship; but it resumed after the couple’s first huge fight, and continued sporadically. Sam raised her glass to Sonja and took a swig while wishing her rival ill.
____
Christian watched Matt and Sam flirt with each other throughout dinner.
Did those two think that they were being discreet? He knew about their intermittent love affair, of course, but he didn’t think they would flaunt it. Perhaps he was just too sensitive of the signs; Matt had confided his troubles. He promised Christian he’d put an end to what they coined as the “Sam affair”; but he has yet to and, Christian feared, may never will. She was a bad habit, and those are, as everyone knows, very hard to break. He tried to give Matt time, but midnight will soon come and the time for everyone to turn into pumpkins is imminent.
It was moments like these that Christian pitied Sonja; she was no saint, but she endured Matt’s infidelities like a martyr. He raised his glass of wine to her and praised her Cajun chicken, “It’s the best chicken I’ve ever had. Bravo!”
____
Now who should it be?
Should I poison only the ones that broke my heart?
That leaves three.
Maybe I should just poison all five. It’s cleaner that way.
Jennifer and John have meant nothing to me since they had their beloved twins. I’d be fine poisoning them… I'll make orphans out of those brats but they'll be better off without such boring parents, I'm sure...
Christian, though… he’s been nice to me and hasn’t really done anything to warrant getting murdered. But… it’s like leaving a loose end…
Maybe I should just kill myself.
Sonja laughed suddenly; everyone looked at her with quizzical expressions.
“What is it, Darling?” Matt said, surprised; smiling.
“Do share,” Sam said, doing a mouth-smile, the kind that didn’t reach the eyes.
“I just thought of something really funny, that’s all,” Sonja said, smiling as if carrying a secret.
Christian smiled nervously; he had a feeling nothing was funny.
Jan smiled at John. “The boys did that all the time, being twins and all. It’s like they could communicate jokes to each other. Isn’t that right, honey?”
“Yes, dear,” he smiled wistfully. “Yes they did.”
Sam snorted and rolled her eyes. She held up her wine glass for Matt to fill then took a sip while gazing at him. “I don’t think I can ever have kids. I need my freedom and... sanity. Kids would kill me, probably.” Then back at John and Jennifer: “You both must be saints.”
The married couple smiled tightly.
“To Saints,” Sam said, spilling her drink as she raised her glass. Wine stained her flower-printed blouse. “Shit! I’m such a fucking klutz!”
Matt reached out with his napkin and dabbed at her blouse.
Nothing was lost to Sonja; she eyed them surreptitiously through her wine glass; Sam, especially, as she giggled and flirted with Matt now a little too obviously. Christian could see Sonja’s displeasure; she needed distraction. He smiled at the married couple across him and said a little too loudly, “So, how did you two meet Matt and Sonja? I met Sonja at Mondo Gallery the night it opened… wasn’t that where we met, Sonja?”
“I believe so,” said the hostess, not at all distracted from the unfolding flirtation.
“And Matt and I met at… “
Christian glanced at Matt whose gaze was still on Sam, mesmerized by her flushed tipsy smile.
Even more loudly now: “… the gym. We met at the gym some two… three years ago. How about you guys?”
Jennifer didn’t hear him; her mind elsewhere. John smiled slightly. “I think we all met at a mutual friend’s party. We were the only couples there. Our friends grew scarce, you see, after we got married. Most of them were single and found us awkward company. But Sonja and Matt were great and we hit it off.”
“We’re not married, though,” Sonja interjected cynically. “Don’t let Matt hear the 'M' word.”
“Huh?” Matt, embarrassed, returned his attention to the table.
“Um, no. Of course not,” John looked at his wife, seeking rescue; she was still, her gaze on another realm. “Sorry.”
“Yes, we hit it off and we were inseparable,” Sonja said in syrupy tones to assuage John’s unease. “We went everywhere together. We even stayed in Greece for 2 weeks. That was fun. I ate nothing but gyros – they were so good! And remember how Matt got sick after we dined at this hole-in-the-wall restaurant? He ordered oysters and ate it even after we all said it smelled funny...”
“I remember,” Matt laughed, determined to keep his attention at the table and not at the lovely Sam. “I think John had some, too, though. Didn’t we get sick together, old pal?”
“We didn’t.”
Silence fell over the table.
“Anyways,” Matt continued after clearing his throat. “We also went on a cruise – two of them, in fact. Each year, we vowed, we would go for a cruise around the time we all met to commemorate our friendship. We’ve been to Mexico and Bora Bora and…”
“And that was it.”
Everyone jumped at the sound of Jennifer’s voice. She sounded serious and looked grim, her eyes staring straight out, not focused on anyone on the table.
“We never went anywhere after Bora Bora because I got pregnant. And, after the twins were born, not even dinner or a movie together. It was as if we no longer existed,” she said without emotion.
Sonja and Matt each cringed at Jennifer’s words. It shamed them to have this pointed out to them though it was all true.
Jennifer continued. “Samantha, too, used to meet me for drinks. But I guess a mother isn’t good company for when you want to get soused and make a fool of yourself.”
Sam, ignored by Matt and, for different reasons, everyone at the table, was drinking with abandon and now quite drunk. “Huh? What you mean, you silly cow? You got fat. I can’t be seen with you at bars.”
“Sam!” Matt hissed at the giggling drunken girl.
“No, let her talk. We’re all friends here, after all,” Jennifer said, now fully present; sarcasm soaking her words.
“We are friends,” Matt said. “We just lost touch, that’s all.”
“Four years,” John said. “That’s a long time to lose touch.”
Sonja’s shame turned into anger. She couldn’t believe these two had the gall to bring this up now. But she willed herself to smile. She touched Jennifer’s hand, and said: “I wish…”
I wish I really had some poison so I could feed it to you right now. I'd cram it down your throat, you bitch!
“…that we’d all forget about the past. You’re here now and this is our way of reconnecting with you both. I’m sorry you felt we abandoned you, but our lives just got so hectic.”
“And we had our boys,” Jennifer spitted out bitterly.
“Well, you were busy, too, because of them, weren’t you? Baby twins… You can’t put all the blame on us,” Sonja said sweetly, pushing down the vomit of harsh words that wanted to come out.
“Of course,” Matt said. “Of course, with baby twins and all…”
Jennifer didn’t say anything; disappearing into her thoughts again.
“Look,” Christian said, a little bruised from the display of dysfunction at the table; feeling guilty for having started it with his question. “I’m the newbie here... sort of. I can see there is friendship here that’s had its ups and downs, that’s all.”
Sam snorted, “Yeah, right.”
Everyone else nodded, eyeing each other guardedly.
“Well, then,” Christian said, relieved. “Let’s all drink to friendship!”
“I’ll drink to anything,” Sam said and reached for the wine bottle. “It’s empty!”
“Here, open this one,” John said, pointing to a green bottle with the name Tamlin Twins. Jennifer’s eyes followed it, her gaze softening. “It’s the one we brought.”
Matt stared at the bottle as he opened it. “Tamlin Twins… as in you guys? Your twins?”
“Yes,” John said. “Jennifer and I went to a winery in California and they did that for us.”
Matt started pouring the wine to each person’s glass.
“What a lovely idea! I didn’t know wineries did that,” Christian said.
John nodded. “If you buy a whole barrel from the San Nicolas winery, they will send the wine to you bottled, labeled, and with the name of your choice.”
“I agree, that is a great idea,” Matt said, putting the empty bottle aside.
“And naming it after the twins, that’s charming,” Sonja said, her hostess mode back on.
“To friends,” Christian said and raised his glass.
“To friends,” said everyone and all drank from their glasses, relieved for the respite from drama and tension.
Matt savored the wine, and nodded. “This is very good. The Tamlin Twins could give my favorite red a run for its money.”
“Yes, it's very good,” Christian said, raising the glass to the couple.
“How are the twins, by the way?” Sonja cooed.
“They’re dead.”
The words left Jennifer's lips simply and without emotion.
Sonja choked on her wine. Sam laughed, thinking it was a joke. Matt and Christian stared at the grim woman, stunned.
“They died last year,” she continued.
“We lost them to cancer,” John said.
“What?” Sam said, finally realizing it wasn’t a joke.
Sonja sputtered. “That’s terrible! Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Would it have made a difference?” John asked with a tinge of anger.
“Well, we could have done something… we could have gone to visit…” Sonja said, now getting angry again at being target practice for these two.
“We could have been there for you, guys,” Matt said. “We could have …”
“We called you!” Jennifer screamed, her voice was loud and her pitch high; her body and face, though, remained emotionless. “We called you and called you and you never answered. You never called us back. We wrote you. We emailed you. But we got nothing. Nothing!”
John squeezed his wife’s hand. “We sent you an invitation to their memorial but we never heard from you. You never came.”
Matt and Sonja both knew that what Jennifer and John said was true. They ignored all messages, emails, and envelopes from them. All their affection for the couple disappeared after Jennifer’s pregnancy, each with their own reason: Matt because of contempt; Sonja because of envy. She couldn’t have kids, not because she wasn’t physically capable; she knew Matt didn’t want any. He had no interest in children or in people who chose to have them. Other women get pregnant to save their relationships; she kept her man by not having one. It wasn’t as if she longed to have a baby, she didn’t have much experience with children to know if she’s missed anything; but she knew with each year that passed her chances of having one lessened, especially with a man that barely touched her in the last four years.
Sam whimpered then started crying, her sobs puncturing the silence. Matt reached out to console her but stopped as he saw Christian glare at him. Sam grabbed his hands anyway and sobbed into them. Matt mouthed the words, “What can I do?” apologetically at Christian.
Sonja witnessed Matt’s and Sam’s interaction and no longer cared. She was tired. She started the evening out with much confidence. Food is power, she thought; she had the power, she thought. But wine bested the food and, ultimately, her.
Fucking Tamlin Twins wine.
“I’m sorry, I really am,” Sonja said. She was sorry that they lost their children; but she was more angry at the bereaved parents for making the evening about them, for making her and Matt face their callous and uncaring ways, and for ruining her dinner.
Jennifer looked at the hostess, a glint in her eyes, an unforgiving anger that smoldered deep within. But she sighed and her eyes softened. She nodded, unsmilingly.
“All is forgiven,” Jennifer said with a defeated air. “It’s done. All ends here.”
Nobody wanted dessert; one by one, awkward goodbyes were dispensed. Sonja and Matt made a polite promise to keep in touch with Jennifer and John; but the latter two only nodded. Sam stumbled out with Christian; he got her a cab and, as he watched it drive off, he wondered if Matt will come by her place tonight or spend it with the person he says he loves.
Thirty minutes later, Christian got his answer.
******************
The next day, in the middle of the afternoon, Sonja was still in bed, curled up as if cramping. She was alone and still in her clothes from the night before. Vomit trailed from her mouth to the bedcovers. She lay unmoving; her eyes red and open. She was dead.
____
Matt also lay dead in bed. He was naked; his mouth open as if he choked on his own vomit the night before. Beside him, also naked, Christian was wound up in a ball. The phone’s receiver was on the floor and beeping continuously. Christian’s stiffened arm looked as if he had reached for it after it had fallen. He passed away before he could make the call.
____
Sam was on the floor of the ladies’ bathroom at MacRudder’s, a pub on her way home. She had asked the cab to drop her off there after Matt wouldn’t answer her call. Her body was slumped over the toilet bowl, lifeless and hair all in disarray. There was vomit on the tiles beside her body, as if she didn’t make it to the bowl in time.
____
Jennifer and John lay spooned on their bed. They were dead. In her hands, against her heart, was a photo of the Tamlin twins, their beloved boys, and an envelope containing their Will.
The day they had their boys cremated, they vowed to never forget them; but they promised each other not to be like other married couples who were ruined after having lost children. They made a pact to give themselves a time for grieving and, once it was over, start their lives afresh without their boys.
They went to the San Nicolas winery and had wine bottled in their honor. They brought the boys' ashes and, secretly and solemnly, scattered some on a row of grapevines. They found a sympathetic employee and paid him generously to put some of their boys’ ashes in the wine. The rest they kept in an urn in their house.
Fifty two bottles were made from the barrel they had bought; fifty two Tamlin Twins for them to drink every Sunday dinner, their designated day for drunken sorrow and grief. The wine was meant to be consumed until the very last on the day of twin’s first death anniversary. But aside from the boys’ anniversary, the last bottle was meant to mark their last day of grieving. A good plan, they thought. They will give themselves a year to grieve then move on.
But as weeks passed, they found themselves getting more entrenched in sorrow. Instead of forgetting, they drank the wine and reminisced; instead of moving on, were debilitated by the memories of their erstwhile children. Drinking the wine became their way of, not forgetting, but reconnecting with their boys. Every Sunday was a day of togetherness; with every bottle of Tamlin Twins, they were a family again.
Soon, their supply of wine ran low, but their sorrow remained constant and full. They realized that they couldn’t move on like they planned, and the last bottle symbolized the end, not of their sorrow, but of their lives without their boys.
So they decided to die.
John researched about poisons and found an herb from South East Asia that wasn’t quick to kill, but, if taken in large doses, will finish the job without inflicting much suffering once it has taken effect.
They both chose which bottle to poison, and Jennifer, with her steady hands, injected the lethal fluid through the cork. They placed the special bottle on the mantle beside their boys’ urn and waited.
Then one day, Jennifer, surprised, got an email from Sonja. It was an invitation for Sunday dinner; the last Sunday she and John were supposed to have.
Jennifer and John remembered their quartet’s closeness and happy fellowship; there were many good times, many they missed. Then they remembered the eventual “losing touch”, as their friends would call it later, and recalled how painful it was when they realized they have been dropped; years of friendship crumpled like used paper and thrown away.
They were made to feel like garbage.
They recalled how they called their supposed friends repeatedly when the boys got sick; how they did the same when they passed away. The night the twins died, Jennifer called Sonja. Then she called Matt and someone picked up – finally after years of calling unanswered! A giggling male voice said, “Hello, Matt’s phone…”
Before she could say anything, a voice in the background hissed, “Wait, who is it?”
Both sounded very drunk.
“I don’t know… Let me see… a Jennifer…” the first voice said laughing.
“Fuck, Christian! End the fucking call! I don’t want to talk to that stupid bitch,” The second voice laughed and Jennifer heard a click.
So she and John accepted the dinner invitation; they brought the special wine with them.
They knew all but one of the other guests; Sam they got to know through Sonja and Matt. Often, when she needed consoling and no one else was available, Sam would persuade Jennifer to go out with her. But that, too, ceased after the twins came.
They didn’t know this Christian, but there must have been other mass murders with innocent casualties; he was going to be theirs.
Driving to Sonja’s, John voiced out his hesitation about the wine; couldn’t they just make it a suicide, a quiet family affair? What if these people have changed? They invited them this time, could this be their apology?
Jennifer agreed.
But the dinner unfolded the way it did. John changed his mind and the special wine was consumed by all.
The South East Asian poison was only painless when taken in large doses, and the dose in the last bottle was enough to kill them both quickly. But because they had to share the wine with the dinner party, Jennifer and John knew they were in for a night of suffering.
Jennifer was willing to endure pain in the name of her boys.
John didn’t want to see his wife suffer.
So he shot her.
As she lay curled tightly, stomach cramps setting in, he kissed the back of her neck and whispered to her that he loved her. Then he aimed his gun at her temple and pulled the trigger surely.
She died instantly.
Sobbing beside her, and before courage left him, he shot himself in the temple, arm falling on top of his wife’s in an embrace.
____
Sam stirred and grimaced at the taste of vomit in her mouth. She looked around, questions swirling in her addled mind.
What the fuck… Where am I?
Then she remembered she was at MacRudder’s.
The place was empty when she got there; a real slow night, Greg, the bartender, told her. Disappointed, she stayed anyway and ordered drink after drink, thinking of Matt and consuming vodka with vengeance meant for him. After her fifth glass, she rushed to the bathroom and that was all she could recall.
She drank so much wine at the dinner, and so much vodka here. She rarely puked her drinks but she’s never had wine and vodka on the same night.
That fucking Tamlin Twins wine.
Sam collected herself. She gargled then grabbed paper towels and wet them to clean herself. She didn’t bother cleaning up her vomit. She went back to the bar to find a man drinking, his eyes on the TV. She sidled up beside him and ordered another drink. The man glanced at her and she smiled.
Fuck Matt. I’m going to get laid tonight.
And she did.
(August 8, 2015, Written for Friday Frights. August's theme is "Fatal Love".)