She stood over him watching the life drain out as a glossy haze covered those blue eyes. The bullet had struck his neck and instead of dying instantly, he bled and bled staring back at her in utter astonishment. It would have been amusing to her if she didn’t feel that pang of guilt. She knew it was only the bullet that bit his flesh. All she did was pull the trigger, and what’s a mechanism like a gun for if not to be used occasionally. She felt powerful. This is what God must feel like when he kills and no wonder He does it so often. The blue dress she wore would have to go, a casualty of a lover’s broken heart, but what a shame it would be since Paul had always remarked that she looked like an angel in it. Poor Paul, a young man not more than 25 who lived his life with all the wonderment of a boy only to be left to rot soaking in his own blood. “Curiosity killed the cat,” they say only no one ever remarked how curiosity could dress to kill or how the cat might only be a pup and that the pup only has one meager life to live.
The smoke that rose from her pistol put her into a hypnotic trance. In that smoke she saw Paul as a baby in his mother’s arms, then as a child running amongst other children in an empty field. Then, she saw him as the young man who wooed her away from her parents and ran all the way with her to the big city. In the smoke she thought she could glimpse fragments of his life that she never saw before. As she watched she imagined what he’d been like before she met him. She thought to herself, how could a boy be even more of a boy than what he is now? There he lay bleeding in his short trousers and beat-up dirty shirt and she imagined that if he could get up, all he’d really want to do would be to run off to the park and mount the monkey bars. He lacked the sophistication required to cut in the big city and in her eyes that alone was a cardinal sin. They’d run off here without a plan and without a care in the world, just two young lovers in love ready to experience life and maybe take a shot at the big time. Sure, she knew that the streets had never been paved in gold and that they both would have to work hard to earn their keep, and when life had just been about the two of them, all of it was as perfect as it needed to be.
Then she met Phil and he swept her away. She had been working in a local jewelry store and when Phil walked in it was as if he owned every jewel there ever was including the one in her heart. He had come to buy a gift for his wife’s birthday, but from that very instance little else mattered to her. Phil had conquered her heart without even knowing it. He flirted with her and began taking her out after her shifts. Paul had always been working. Paul worked so hard but could only give her so little. Phil offered her the world and she took it. They began meeting in motel rooms, sneaking away every stolen moment they possibly could. She fell in love with Phil even though she knew he’d never leave his wife. Phil offered her a world of jazz and speakeasies. They frequented The Cotton Club and had met Owney Madden and Hoagy Carmichael all in the same evening. She rubbed shoulders with the bee’s knees and it had all been terrific.
Once Paul found out there was little she’d thought he’d do. She thought he’d skulk away defeated like some helpless little puppy, and at first that’s exactly what happened until one fateful night. He must have had them followed prior to this. One night, Paul burst into the motel room with Phil’s wife Delores, her hair in curlers in her tattered nightgown. There was a woman beneath all women, she thought as she heard Delores shriek obscenities at each of them. Well, at least Phil could be all mine now, she had thought. Now that the game was up and the secret was out she thought maybe Paul had done her the biggest favor of her life. She thought that every night forward would be spent with Phil beside her in their bed.
The next night Phil came by with the most serious looked she had ever seen on him. He brushed her aside as she moved in for his embrace. He turned a cold cheek as she leaned in to kiss her. That’s when she knew she had been had. She listened as Phil told her that they couldn’t see each other anymore and nearly fainted in disbelief as he told her he was going back to his wife. Reality came crashing down as she realized that it had all been a fling. All those glamourous evenings, all the wine, and the passionate nights they spent had all been a dance. She’d been taken for a ride and now she would have nothing. Now, there was nothing to do but to return to that boy.
Life in Wyoming hadn’t been kind. She knew all too well she came from abusive parents who wanted nothing more for than to stay put where they could control her. Paul had come from similar circumstances. His father was a wheat farmer, but when Prohibition passed everything changed. Until then Paul’s father had been a kind and gentle man. Then, once lean times began it was as if he had been taken over by a dark uncontrollable force. She had grown up alongside Paul and ever since they were small children it was as if she and Paul had been fated to be together. Their parents perpetuated the lark, but then something in nature had changed everyone even her. It was as if her spirit became hardened. Paul had been the only one resistant to it. It was as if he was determined to remain a boy despite growing into a man’s body. When Paul came to her window one night and suggested that they run away together, she though it had been the most adult thing he had ever thought of. She followed him everywhere when they first arrived in the city. It was as if she was afraid to be alone. They were the only ones who looked out for each other. Then, they each buried themselves in work to the point where they rarely saw each other and then she met Phil and well, that just changed everything.
The gun felt warm even though the smoke had dissipated. It radiated in her hand, but despite everything her hand did not tremble. She coolly convinced herself that she had merely come to talk to him. The fact that she brought along the pistol that Phil had given her as a birthday gift not long ago was just a mere coincidence. In all the years she had known Paul before coming to the city, she never felt exhilarated around him. It took only one meeting with Phil to discover what true exhilaration was. True exhilaration was firing a weapon. Phil once remarked to her after giving her the pistol, “Now, you don’t have to take any guff from nobody.” Holding the gun and firing it at a target now that was empowering to the point of it being nearly divine. He had prepared her for what it would feel like. When she asked Phil what it felt like to kill a man with a gun, he told her everything. “The first time it wreaks havoc on your stomach, but then about a minute later once you get used to the idea that the bastard got what he deserved, then it doesn’t matter much that a man is dead. Then, you realize that it only bothers you if you let it bother you.”
Phil’s words echoed in her brain. It wasn’t so much the words themselves or what they meant. It was just the power she felt watching Paul grapple with death as he clenched his neck on the ground. The blood spilled out of his hand like a sieve and those pretty eyes of his began fading. She wondered what he was thinking as he looked at her knowing that she had taken the only thing away from him that truly mattered to him or to anyone. She wondered why he said those things to her if he was merely going to seek comfort in another woman at the first sign of abandonment. That night when he brought Delores over to the motel he stood up in front of Phil’s face and told him that she had deserved a man who could share his life completely with her. Paul told Phil that she was the most remarkable woman he had ever known and that if Phil was going to take her away that she deserved to be more than a bit on the side. Even now, she imagined those words of devotion coming out of Paul’s mouth. It only took Phil leaving for her to see that Paul had been looking out for her the entire time, but it hadn’t been that simple. Sometime while she and Phil had been together, Paul also fell for another woman only she hadn’t cared enough to realize it. We love who we love and it’s never of our choosing. No one ever truly possesses a heart that is not their own, she thought. With that, she turned her back on Paul and walk away as the silence consumed him. . .
As the silence consumed him, Paul looked at her. She turned her back and began walking away. That blue dress always made her look like an angel. Her soft long white legs moved so gracefully that they looked like they reached up to heaven. She may have been deadly but she was beautiful all the same. He knew he was a goner. He let go of his neck and uttered in a final breath the name of the woman he truly loved. Paul took comfort in knowing that that name didn’t match the name of the woman who killed him. The woman who pulled the trigger had long since become a stranger to him. The woman he thought of in his final moments was truly remarkable. She was the brightest woman he had ever met. He struggled to hold on to the few brief conversations they shared. He also struggled to hold on to the feeling of her embrace wishing that he had been bold enough to kiss her the last time he saw her. It could have been the beginning of something special. He thought of how his hand might feel stroking her hair and how soothing it might be to have the freedom to embrace her whenever they wanted. If he could only touch that lovely face one more time. If he could only draw her closer to him, maybe he’d tell her all of the things he felt about her. He gazed one last time at the feminine creature briskly walking away. Then, he looked up at the ceiling, pursed his lips together one last time and uttered a name. It was the name of the woman he wished he had the opportunity to fall in love with. It was a desperate plea for a love that never came to be but a love that could have been something . . . special.
With renewed determination, the feminine creature upon hearing Paul utter that name rushed back into the tenement room and put a new bullet between his eyes. As she did so she infuriatingly shouted, “THAT’S NOT MY NAME!!!” It had only been one syllable but it was one syllable too many and she knew she didn’t have to take any guff.