HILDA

 

She was wearing bottle-green velvet that set off the pale green of her eyes. The dress was cut low, went in tight around her very narrow waist and stayed tight going down all the way past her knees. She featured pearls around her throat and in her ears and on her wrists. He thought, You gave her pearls for her birthday and Christmas and you wanted to give her more for the first wedding anniversary. But she betrayed. After 10 years in jail he came back to ask her why?

He stood there counting off the seconds. It was four seconds and then the door opened. It opened wide and Hilda’s mouth opened wider. Then she had her hand to her mouth and she was stepping backward.

“Hello, Hilda.” He came into the kitchen and closed the door behind him.

She took another backward step. She shook her head and spoke through the trembling fingers that pressed against her lips. “It isn’t—”

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

Her hand fell away from her mouth. The moment was too much for her and it seemed she was going to collapse. But somehow she managed to stay on her feet. Then her eyes were shut tightly and she went on shaking her head.

“Look at me,” he said. “Take a good look.”

She opened her eyes. She looked him up and down and up again. Then, very slowly, she summoned air into her lungs and he knew she was going to let out a scream. His hands moved fast to his coat pocket and he took out the knife and said quietly, “No noise, Hilda.”

She stared at the knife. The air went out of her without sound. Her arms were limp at her sides.

From the story “Black pudding” by David Goodis

Illustration by ASHOK KUMAR