Doug Stoiber

He Changes His Mind

She’s standing at death’s door. Well, not yet – but soon. Of this, he was quite certain.

Well, after all, it is inevitable. All of us eventually end up at that door. Who knows when one’s number comes up? Her number’s up. So unexpected. For her.

So he cleared his mind of all the usual clutter of data and text and … stuff. A clear mind, a stage on which all the possibilities of his future could play out. He set about making a mental reckoning: plusses and minusses, debits and credits, smiley faces and storm clouds.

Of course, before seeing to all of the other practical matters, there would be the grief. Of course. And the portrayal of his grief for the benefit of the living was certainly going to be a chore, but there was no dodging it. He could probably figure that the worst of the dutiful pantomime would be over in five days, maybe two weeks tops. Well, that’s death for you. Get it over with. 

Come on, now, you must truly and deeply appreciate how losing her will darken your life, before you go over and start to add up all the items in the other column. The loneliness; you must figure that in.

She is a kind and loving person who is always by his side. She has her talents, her flair, her imagination. She has certainly borne her side of the financial burdens in their marriage. All of these he would miss. Oh, he would never forget her; that was his vow. She was an all-around good human being.

But when she was no more, what then? Well, here is how the performance on his stage proceeded:

It means I will be alone, a free agent, on my schedule, with no one to veto my fishing trips or make plans on my behalf. He would go to church and the doctor and the dentist, and the gym when he decided to do so. And the barber and the optometrist ….

My retirement fund will go twice as far when I discontinue all her insurance payments and subscriptions. Why, the savings in hair and nail appointments each month alone! Also, her membership to the gym, where she and her crowd met to stand around in yoga pants and crop tops and chatter. He would cancel about five streaming services he wouldn’t watch if someone held a gun to his head. Let’s say that’s five services at approximately $15 a month per, plus that’s probably five movies a month at each – anywhere from $4 – $6 each. We’re looking at $200 or more a month right there. That halfway pays for a housecleaner every two weeks. They also splurge $200 a month on wine (which he hates and doesn’t drink); that right there is the other half of the maid service bill. Yeah, that would work out nice and tidy.

(Except he was going to have to clean the house by himself, top to bottom, one more time. And ‘clean’ the house he would.)

It means I will have lots of her effects to manage. Her brothers and their wives could have what they wanted of her clothing and jewelry, the rest to be donated. He would retain her laptop (wonder what he’ll find there?). He didn’t really need a second car or its expenses, so her Lexus SUV could be sold. Cancel her car insurance. He could think of three kitchen appliances and a couple of pieces of furniture that he had always found fussy and extraneous. He’d probably post them on the marketplace website and rake in a couple of thou on the sales.

It means I will have more space. Lots more space. Closets – plural! And her hobby room. Half the garage full of her collection of dolls (while his pickup sat out in the elements year ‘round). The dolls – there’s another couple thou if he could manage the online sales. His widower’s budget was looking even healthier.

It means I can upgrade the standard of living around here with potentially a bonus bank. If his numbers are correct – who knows – but the positive balance on the ledger is in black and white. He really doesn’t need anything he doesn’t already have. That’s not humblebrag, that’s just him living in the world that suits him. He loves clean sheets, good food, warm clothes (and cottons in summer’s heat). The world that suits him has southern facing windows and perfectly balanced heat/cool year round. His world, his settings, no compromise.

It means I am on my own for nutrition. He wouldn’t starve; of course not. He could enjoy two or three meals out each week. Keep a supply of cereal, bread, fresh eggs, bacon, sliced meats and cheese. I will have sole responsibility for my food choices.

It means I won’t be seeing her side of the family much anymore (yay). How would he finesse Thanksgiving and Christmas diplomatically? He entertained the fantasy of meeting someone who enjoys holiday cruises so that he would then be apologetically out at sea while her folks were having fun arguing about politics and letting their kids run wild. Something along those lines. This would not be a problem if her people didn’t live right here in the same town.

It means more time to read, more time for long walks to just think and to marvel at this place unto which I have delivered myself. Gone with her (dear girl) would be the nightly Jeopardy! competition, followed by some diversion for two: cribbage, Scrabble, double solitaire. So between the game show and the games, that’s almost the whole evening at least four nights a week. Yes, they were fun times, but now he would basically have an open calendar after 6 pm every weekday. Okay, so what does that suggest? Poker nights? Book clubs? Gym membership (hard no). He was determined that he would NOT waste three hours every night either curled up with his e-reader, or watching YouTube videos on the flat screen. 

It means I hide nothing from myself, and I reveal nothing to anyone. Other than perhaps a cruise companion once in a while, he would gladly not see anyone at all. Ever. Avoiding people is the most prudent plan for a happily-ever-after. To hell with poker night, book club and gym!

It means that – as I go through the most soul-wrenching moments of human experience – she will be in no position to help and guide and counsel me. She will be there of course, but not for his benefit, and certainly not for her own. How unfortunate.

It means I will need to become a different person. From now on, he must listen very closely to every word uttered around him. And he absolutely must weigh every word before he speaks. He must hold everyone he meets at arm’s length, must always think before answering even the most innocuous question. My freedom depends on living a mistake-free life as long as I can.

It means hard work and dedication from this moment forward if I am to live the life I envision. The life I am facilitating, the possibilities I am creating, the freedom I will win this very day.

It means that if I proceed with my plan, I will never sleep easily again. 

His heart nearly stopped. He hasn’t thought this through – no, no, not nearly well enough at all! She will be through that door in minutes – MINUTES!  – at which moment he must be ready to greet her. With a smile on his face – and the syringe behind his back. 

But now this. Doubt. Doubts plural. What ifs. 

It is said that a drowning man has his entire life pass before his eyes; now I can see every episode of Columbo in a flash. They never got one past him in, what was it? Ten seasons? They always get caught. I’m as good as caught. Life sentence if I’m lucky.

Her car door closing resounded from the driveway. Abort!

The kitchen door opened. Her eyes wide with bewildered surprise at the sight of him looming in the doorway, she beamed a sunny smile at him. 

With his left hand, he reached to relieve her of a shopping bag.

As she stepped through the door, he brought his right arm around her back.

Around her shoulder.

He pulled her close and held her tight.

And kissed her cheek playfully as his plot evaporated in a mist. Oh God, that was close!

What a lucky break for her. He hugged her so tightly that he couldn’t see the four-inch knife blade. Which she stuck with sufficient force between his ribs and into his chest.

As he collapsed to the hallway tile floor – stunned, gurgling, eyes wide with panic – she busied herself with the many small details of cleaning up the murder scene.