How to Kill Your Husband (24 page)

Claire entered the garage via the kitchen and pulled the chain at the foot of the stairs to turn the lights on. There were three vehicles in the large room: her Lexus, George's Navigator, and the crown jewel, his souped-up chopper.

George first purchased the bike nine years ago, when they were still in New York. Since then he shipped the Harley off to four different shops to get customized handlebars, wheels and pipes. It was truly a thing of beauty now, but it took many years of patience, money, and hard work to get it there.

Claire didn't believe she could totally wreck the motorcycle in just thirty minutes, but she was certainly willing to give it a try. George was a good mechanic, and he had tools of all sorts hanging from on walls of the garage. Claire scanned them until she saw the weapon she preferred. She hefted the heavy sledge hammer with two hands. She didn't think she'd have the strength to wield it, but once she got it over her head, gravity was happy to bring it down on the target all by itself.

* * *

As planned, George was awakened by the racket. He stepped into the garage twenty minutes after the constable left wearing only a pair of boxers. His look of weariness was immediately replaced with a look of sheer horror when he saw his wife wild and sweating in the center of the room.

Between Claire's legs lay the remnants of his Harley. It was not propped on the kickstand as it should be, and it was not in one piece like it should be, either. Every light and reflector was smashed. The seat was shredded and its innards were strewn here and there. The tires were flat as well.

The entire bike had huge dents covering every square inch. Most of the bruises were fist-sized and at least an inch deep. The Harley's beautifully crafted motor looked more like a radiator now. The chrome pipes were smooshed, almost flattened. The fender was cracked and detached. Nearly every spoke on the wheels was bent out of shape.

Claire had the sledgehammer poised over her head for another blow when she looked up and saw her husband. They stared at each other without words for half a second, and then he started for her. Claire brought the hammer down one more time before he could stop her. The metal head slammed into the chassis with the sickening sound of dreams, sacrifice, and hard-earned money rushing down the drain.

George reacted as if he'd taken the blow himself. He doubled over and fell to his knees. He crawled, then staggered, to the remains of his bike like a mummy. His eyes were wide and his jaw was slack like he took a shot of heroin. His big chest rose and fell. A weak moan escaped his lips.

Claire dropped the hammer and took one step back. Her eyes were low and her teeth were bared. Sweat drenched her face and neck. She crossed her arms and stared at her husband defiantly. They stood no more than ten feet apart. The twisted machinery between them was much like the remnants of their marriage.

George looked at her, and Claire thought he might cry. She was ready to explain herself, but just then they heard a noise from upstairs.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

Claire smiled. There was no way this could go any better. But George either didn't hear or didn't care about their visitor. His eyes never left his wife's. He held his hands out to his sides and attempted to ask the most obvious question.

“What did, why, what…”

“There's someone at the door,” Claire said coldly.

“Wha…Wha?…”

“The
door
, George. There's someone at the front door. I think you need to answer it.”

He looked over his shoulder, and then back down at his bike. A slight twitch formed on the right side of his face, but he was still too shocked to look angry. He regarded his wife again and actually balled his fists. Claire couldn't believe her eyes.

“Why did you do this?”

“Go answer the door, George. When you get back, we can talk about
everything
.”

He looked over his shoulder quickly, as if expecting a trap.

KNOCK

KNOCK

KNOCK

“You're going to pay for this,” he declared. Most of his senses were back now. “I don't know what the hell's wrong with you, and I don't know how you're going to get the money, but best believe you're going to pay for this.”

“Yeah, fine,” Claire said. Her heart hammered in her chest. “Now will you go answer the door, please?”

She didn't think he would do it, but George was never one to let his temper get the best of him. He gave his wife one more hard glare before turning towards the steps. Halfway up, he looked back and pointed a finger.

“You stay your ass
right there
.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Claire promised. He disappeared, and she leaned against the Navigator and waited. And she waited some more. After five minutes she started to go up and see what was taking him, but George appeared in the doorway just as she headed up the stairs. Claire backed away and took her original position on the other side of the wreckage.

George still wore only his boxers. He had a stack of papers in his hand, and for now, this material had his full attention. Claire put her hands on her hips and held the pose like a model. George looked up at her after scrutinizing each page thoroughly. He didn't look angry or upset or even surprised.

“What the hell is this?”

“You just read it,” Claire said. “Do you need me to read it to you again?”

“You, you taking me to court?” he asked. “You wanna get a divorce?”

“I definitely have just cause.”

“What the fu—what
just cause
?” He was starting to get upset again, and that's just where Claire wanted him. She knew she could shut him down with just two words:

“Kimberly Pate.”

The blood drained from his face, and the look of doom he wore now was better than when he first saw the Harley.

“Oh, you recognize that name, huh?” she teased.

George didn't respond. His mouth fell open, and he blinked rapidly. His Adam's apple bobbed as if he was drinking.

“What's wrong?” Claire asked. “Cat got your tongue? Okay, well, I guess I'll do the talking then. First, let me start by saying you're a
disgusting pig
, George. I've wanted to say that to your face for quite a while now. You want to know why I won't sleep with you anymore? Want to know why I'm
stalling you out
? It's because you're
filthy
and you're
nasty
. You're low-down, you're
dirty
, and you're
rotten
.”

George was still at a loss for words, and that was just fine with Claire.

“I've been following you,” she said. “I followed you to the Chevy dealership when you picked up your other woman. I followed you to the steakhouse when you took her out. I followed you to that school, George. At first I couldn't believe any of this. I certainly couldn't believe you actually had
children
with this woman, but I know all about it now. I know about the twins. I know you let her name that boy
George Jr.
How the hell could you do that?” Her eyes glossed over, but Claire wouldn't let a tear fall.

“I talked to her!” she spat. “I was in her house, George. I sat at that table right next to those twins! I've got pictures! I've got DNA tests!”

Her nose started to run. She wiped it with the back of her hand.

“I loved you,” she said. “I gave you
all I had
. I followed you anywhere you wanted me to go. I would have done
anything
for you, George. But you betrayed me. You betrayed our children. Do you have any idea how bad you've hurt me? Do you know how you've hurt your family?”

The tears started to fall, and Claire hated herself for it. She wanted to be strong. She wanted to be the one in control for a change. She wiped her face angrily and glared at her husband, who was still wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

“
Well, answer me
!” she screamed. “
Tell me why you did it
!”

George continued to stare, but his eyes ran in and out of focus. The papers fell from his hand and scattered around his bare feet. He reached up and touched the left side of his chest. Claire would remember that move for many years to come. He didn't grab it or squeeze it; he merely
touched
his chest, as if there was a button there that would fix what was going wrong inside.

George's eyes rolled back in his head, and his knees buckled. Claire thought he was playing, but when he fell backwards, he didn't throw an arm back to brace his fall. He didn't stick out his butt to catch most of the impact.

George fell straight and flat like a two by four; his back and legs hit the ground at the same time. His bald head connected with the concrete floor with an audible
SMACK
, but he didn't reach for the pain like normal people do when they injure themselves. Both of his arms lay limply at his sides. His eyes were closed, and that's how they would remain.

Oh, I know you're not going to die without answering me!

Claire rushed to his side and commenced CPR.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

THE AFTERMATH

Claire never knew her husband had a Type A personality, but everything made sense once they sat her down and talked to her. In retrospect, she knew George was impatient, highly competitive, aggressive and excessively time-conscious. Like others with the personality trait, George was a workaholic and he was always unhappy with the smallest setbacks or delays. At Boeing he drove himself with quotas and deadlines, and with the affair he took multitasking to an all-time high.

People with Type A personalities often made things worse by drinking too much and smoking. And while George managed to avoid these pitfalls, he put his body in a state of high stress on a daily basis. The stress kept him in a constant fight of flight mode, and over the years his body released tons of adrenaline and epinephrine. These hormones sped up his heart rate, which soon constricted his arteries and eventually lead to heart disease.

George was diagnosed with CAD (coronary artery disease) over two years ago. Always a manly man, he did not tell his wife about his treatments, medications, or ongoing chest pains. Claire guessed his main reason for secrecy was because he knew she would try to help him. Had she known he was sick, Claire would've gone out of her way to reduce the stress in her husband's life, and she would have certainly paid more attention to his comings and goings.

It was a near-fatal catch twenty-two: George couldn't confide in his life partner because in doing so he would have to divulge all, at which point he was likely to lose his life partner.

* * *

Claire had plenty of time to make these suppositions because her husband didn't regain consciousness for three hours after the ambulance wheeled him into the emergency room. Claire talked to George's ER doctor as well as his primary care physician, who provided the information on his cardiac history.

Claire was pissed he would keep something like that from her just as she was still pissed about the affair, but all of her anger took the backseat while she was at the hospital.

She was at her husband's bedside when his eyes fluttered open, and the sight filled her heart with unexpected cheer. Claire let out the biggest sigh of relief ever as she looked down on her poor, poor George. It was a peculiar situation, considering how badly she wanted him dead the night before.

It didn't seem possible for one heart attack to change a person so drastically, but George was but a shell of the man who stood over his mangled bike four hours ago. He lay on his back with an oxygen tube running from his nose and a mess of EKG leads stretching from beneath his gown. Next to his bed a monitor glowed brightly with jagged lines that skated across the screen from right to left. Claire didn't know what any of those readings meant, but as long as those lines weren't flat, she knew they were still in business.

George was on the third floor of Jackson Memorial's heart tower. This was a blessing because the first floor had cardiac ICU patients, and the second floor was for the unfortunates who had to have heart surgery. George was merely on a telemetry floor, which meant he wasn't expected to go live with Jesus any time soon.

Claire stood when he woke up. She hovered over the bed with fat tears in her eyes. She smiled hopefully, but it wasn't a pretty scene. George's cheeks were sunken and his eye sockets were dark. Pharmaceuticals dripped from an IV bag over his head. A catheter snaked from between his legs down to a collection bag hanging on the side of the bed.

George blinked quickly. He looked around the whole room before his eyes settled on Claire. There was no anger, foreboding or fear in those eyes. It was as if nothing he saw surprised him.

“I…” He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy. “I had a heart attack?”

Claire sighed, happy his loss of consciousness didn't leave him a vegetable.

“Yeah, you did,” she said. “How come you didn't tell me about your chest pains?”

George breathed in slowly and took in his surroundings again. His eyes were low and he appeared inebriated. It was a strange sight because Claire never saw her husband high or drunk. George always had his wits about him.

A nurse walked into the room looking down at a plastic binder that contained his chart. She looked up and smiled brightly when she saw that her patient was awake.

“Hey. How are you doing?” She was a large woman with dark chocolate skin and big, beautiful lips. She wore an all blue scrub suit that could barely contain her breasts and hips.

George watched her but did not respond.

The nurse approached the bed and proceeded to take his vitals. “You doing okay?” she asked again and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around his arm. “Do you know what happened?” She put on a stethoscope and propped his arm on her hip.

George nodded weakly. “I had a heart attack.”

“Good,” the nurse said, counting his heartbeats. “Not good that you had a heart attack, but good you can speak. That's always a positive. According to your EEG you don't have any brain damage, but I need to ask you a few questions if that's okay with you.”

“Okay,” George said with a nod.

“Can you tell me your name?” the nurse asked.

He frowned and said, “George Hudgens.”

“All right. Do you know what day it is?”

“It's Saturday,” George said. “I don't know the date.”

“He never keeps up with the date,” Claire offered.

“That's fine,” the nurse said. “Do you know what year it is?”

“2010,” George said with another frown.

“Great,” the nurse said. “And do you have any idea what time it is?”

George tilted his head so he could see the clock mounted on the wall behind her.

“It's one-thirty.”

The nurse turned and eyed the clock herself. She looked back to George with a sly grin. “Oh, you're sneaky. You're also doing very well. Your heart attack was bad, but it wasn't the worst. I'll be right back. I'm going to call the doctor and let him know you're awake.”

She left the room, and George's attention quickly went back to his wife. They watched each other for a while, neither wanting to speak about what happened earlier. George finally bit the bullet.

“I, I dreamed you smashed my bike.”

Claire forced a smile. “That wasn't a dream, George.”

He nodded. “I know. I was, I was hoping you'd let all of that go, because I'm laid up…”

Claire reached down and held his hand. “I want to. I'm sorry, George, but I can't. You know I can't.”

He exhaled slowly with a soft hum. “How'd you find out?”

The question brought some of the anger back, and Claire had to let go of his hand.

“I don't think we should talk about that now. You're still sick. I don't…” She sniffled. “You have no idea how scared I was when you fell out.”

George smiled weakly. “It's okay. I'm already at the hospital. If I have another heart attack, they already have a room for me.”

Claire chuckled and sighed. She looked into his eyes with hardly any malice. “It was my anniversary present. As soon as you gave me that necklace, I knew you bought it for someone else.”

George nodded. “I, I knew I messed up.” He shook his head. “After I gave it to you, the very next day I realized what I did. I thought you might get suspicious, but I hoped you wouldn't. I knew you were smart, but I hoped…”

Claire waited, but he didn't finish that sentence. “Why'd you let her name that boy George Jr.?” she asked. This was completely different than she expected her confrontation to go, but it was probably for the best. Yelling and screaming was only good for third-grade recess.

“I didn't want her to,” George said. “I told her not to, but she…”

“Kim.”

“Kim, she's…” He cleared his throat. “She's a strong-minded person. A lot like you, baby. I couldn't give her a good enough reason
not
to name him George, and once she sets her mind to something.” He shook his head. “She's, she's a lot like you.”

Claire would have hated that comparison had she not met Kim herself. “You moved her from New York?” she asked.

George nodded.

“Why would you do that?”

“I, I didn't have a choice, Claire. I thought about breaking it off and coming to Texas without her, but she wasn't going to forget about me just because I was gone. She would've found me and put me on child support. You would've found out anyway if I went to court.”

Claire didn't believe that. “You loved her?”

George looked away and the room went quiet. Claire didn't think he would answer, but he sighed heavily and met her eyes again. “Yes, Claire. I loved her. I luh, love her. I love the twins, too.”

Claire knew this was the case, but it was still like a dagger through her heart. A blade so deep it pierced her very soul. Her tear ducts twitched, but she wouldn't cry in front of this man. Not now, and not ever again.

“Why would you do this to me?” she asked. “How could you do this?”

George's eyes watered and the tears wet his cheeks instead. In sixteen years of marriage, this was the first time she ever saw him cry. “I'm sorry, Claire. I am so, so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I, I never wanted it to go this far. When I met her, I knew it was wrong. It was wrong for me to talk to her, and it was wrong to sleep with her, but I did it.

“You were at home taking care of our children, and I was, I was so stressed out at my job, and I had this big family I created. Everything seemed so hectic at home, but it was different when I was with her. She calmed me, and she made me happy, and there were no responsibilities.”

That was laughable, but Claire let him finish his story.

“But then she got pregnant,” he said. “And just like that, everything was messed up. I still loved you, and I didn't want you to find out. But by then I, I loved her, too, and the only way to keep it a secret was to stay with her. I started living with
both
of you, and things spiraled out of control so fast. I had to move her down to Texas, and I had to be there for you and for her and our kids and the twins. Oh, my God, Claire, please forgive me.”

He sobbed openly. This was the most pitiful she'd ever seen him, but George's explanation only deepened Claire's contempt. He ran from the family
he created
—only to create another one? This man disgusted her more than leeches, rats and snakes combined, and it showed in her eyes. George saw the change and tried to switch gears.

“But, but I'm glad it's out in the open now. I love you, Claire, and you're the
only
woman I care about. I want us to be a normal family again. I want to be with
our
kids—no the twins. I don't care about Kim anymore. I only want to be with you.”

His words were heartfelt, and Claire believed him, and if he told her that the day after she found the first card, she might have taken him back. But Claire was a different woman now. The whole ordeal changed her, and she could never go back to the way she was. She shook her head solemnly.

“It's over between us, George. We're getting a divorce.”

His eyes widened and he grabbed her wrist. His touch was cold and unfamiliar.

“Please don't say that,” he begged. “It doesn't have to be over, Claire. It doesn't have to be.” He tried to sit up, but the pain was too much for him. His arm trembled, and sweat quickly sprouted on his forehead.

Claire pulled her arm away and placed her hands on his shoulders. She pushed him back to a lying position and patted his chest lightly. “George, I'm going to leave. I know I'm upsetting you, and I don't want you to get any worse. Lie down and stop hurting yourself.”

“No.”

“Shhhh,” she cooed. “It's all right. Kim's on her way, and I'll bring the kids by later for a visit.”

George's mouth fell open. “Kim?”

Claire nodded. “I called her already, before you woke up. She should be here any minute.”

George's confusion was priceless, so Claire didn't tell him she made the call posing as a nurse. She smiled and turned her back on him for the very first time. When she stepped out of his room, she knew she was stepping into a brand new life, and she did so with boldness and confidence. She left sixteen years of her life behind her, but that was all right. She still had a whole lot of life left in her.

When she got to the ground floor, Claire passed a grieving mother of two at the hospital's main entrance. The young mother looked up at Claire. There was a hint of recognition when they made eye contact, but Kim didn't stop to ask if they'd met somewhere before. At that moment, Kim was only concerned with her man, and whether Claire was still interested in the house across the street was totally irrelevant.

* * *

When she got back to her Lexus, Claire found her cellphone lying on the passenger seat. She didn't realize she'd left it, but considering the morning's drama, it wasn't too surprising. She had a multitude of missed calls. Most of them were from Becky, so she called her back first.