Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older. Thanks for reading!
"I... don't understand. What's going on? Is Ella home?" Antonio looked around the living room, but it was clear that the teenager was alone.
Where did she come from?
He scratched his scalp in confusion. "Stop crying, please." He held out his hands as if to calm a snarling tiger. "Did something happen to Ella? Is that why you're crying? Or Mara? Um... Mrs. Rizzuto... did something happen to my wife?"
"I don't know... I don't know..." Samantha blubbered on the floor, wiped her eyes, and stood on shaky legs. Her nerves were shot. She had almost died inside that painting. She had watched Patrick die... maybe. She wasn't sure if he was ever truly alive. "I don't know... anything..." she said between sobs. But that wasn't true. She knew something; blithely ignoring the paintings wasn't an option.
Kathy and Noah were dead wrong. Why couldn't they see it?
"Um... Mr. Rizzuto... is there anyone in... your painting?" She pointed to the dogs playing poker.
"What?" He turned to regard the painting. He thought about her question, scratched his head again, and turned back to her. "Um... what?"
"I guess... not." Samantha wiped tears off her cheeks. Her sobbing abated. Nothing like giving yourself a task to compartmentalize your recent trauma. She set her jaw and marched into the kitchen.
"What are you doing, Samantha?" Antonio could hear her rummaging in his kitchen. His family leaving him on Christmas and then a crying teenager appearing in his house, had thrown him for a loop. "Whoa!" He stepped back when she reentered the living room carrying a large butcher knife. Even though she was carrying it by her side, point down, Antonio had the feeling she meant to carry out violence with the weapon. "What are you...?"
"This isn't going to make much sense to you, Mr. Rizzuto." Samantha stopped in front of the Belle Dame painting. She breathed in deeply, her breath hitching with the last of her sobs. "I promise this is for the best." Why wasn't this painting protected? Why hadn't a dog popped out of it like that terrible metal ball in her house? She didn't have any answers. But she was happy not to confront any guards.
"Wait!" Antonio watched her lift the knife, ready to strike the painting. "Are you going to..." He watched the knife fall, slashing diagonally across the canvas.
"Die... die... you evil fucking thing." Samantha slashed again and again. She delved the knife in deep. With her strength and anger, she was sure she'd made a mess of the Rizzuto's wall. She didn't care. "Just... fucking... die." She jabbed the knife into the blackness behind the canvas, let it stick there, and stood back.
Antonio watched with wide eyes. As Samantha tore the painting, a deep black peeked out from underneath. His hair stood on end, and his knees felt week. He was witnessing an absence that shouldn't be there, that no one should witness. And then, to his shock, the frame cracked, bent, and folded in on itself. The painting imploded, taking with it the knife. When it was done, his wall was blank and unmarred where his wife's purchase had been. "Holy...
shit!"
"Sorry about the knife." Samantha looked over at her friend's father. "I'll buy you a new one or something." Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but she no longer felt like crying.
"Are you going to buy my wife a new painting, too?" Antonio couldn't understand what he'd seen. He hated what he'd seen. He needed to push it from his mind, so he gathered indignation and bluster, emotional tools he could better understand. "That cost a lot of money, young lady. Are you going to give us a refund?"
"No." Samantha shook her head. "Go find your daughter and your wife. You'll probably find Mrs. Rizzuto isn't such a bitch anymore."
"What did you just say about my wife?" Antonio's face reddened. "I won't have a -"
"Don't finish that thought." Samantha held up her finger to silence him. She was happy when he obliged. She walked over to him, looking up into his pink, puffy face. "Boo," she said.
Antonio stepped back in fright. Then he watched the teenager go. He didn't take her advice about searching for his family. Instead, he headed straight for the liquor cabinet. He needed a drink.
~~
"Sorry I'm late. I was just... um... doing stuff in my room." Noah smiled at everyone in the dining room. Kathy sat at the far end of the table, a knowing smirk on her face. Hailey was seated next to her, contentedly leaning her head on Kathy's shoulder and holding Kathy's bare arm tightly. Noah's dad was at the table too, scrolling his phone. Noah could see his mother and Clive moving busily in the kitchen.
"Where's Paget?" Hailey raised her eyebrows questioningly at her brother. When he winked back, her jaw dropped. "You didn't..."
Noah put a finger to his lips. "She should be down in a few minutes." He looked at his dad, who was still absorbed in his phone. "Hey, Dad."
"Hey." Andrew didn't look up.
"I'm going to help Mom in the kitchen." He walked around the table, bent over, and kissed Kathy on the lips. He wasn't surprised when she bit his lower lip and held on for a few seconds, not letting him go. When he was free, he checked on his father again. Satisfied that no one would notice, he kissed Hailey on the lips. The deeds done, he straightened up, patted his smiling sister on the head like a puppy, and hurried into the kitchen.
"Hi, Mom." Noah stopped in the doorway. When his mom looked over at him with questioning eyes, he nodded. Her face went slack with surprise, and she dropped the mixing bowl in her hands. It hit the linoleum floor with a crash and sprayed sauce into the air. She wore an apron over her blouse and skirt, but the skirt wasn't totally protected.
"Mrs. Reader?" Clive put down the baster and turned to his future mother-in-law. "Are you okay?"
