Strawberries Means Death

A gold chain with a strawberry charm bobs in the water, all alone, with no one around to cherish its significance. One would think a woman somewhere is in mourning, devasted by the loss of one of her greatest treasures.

She's not.

***

Earlier

Vanessa

My eyes flutter awake, ready to close again with the gentle rocking of the waves against the boat. Adjusting my necklace, I snuggle closer to the unnaturally handsome man, my husband, beside me, happy to doze off for another hour or so with my hand on his chest.

Carter clearly has a different plan in mind, playing with the lace of my bralette. "You should get more of these, in all different colors. I love this on you."

"You may be rich..."

"We may be rich." I roll my eyes. Let's be honest, I dated and married Carter for a variety of reasons, but one was not for his money. But he has this what's mine is yours mentality, and insisted I have access to everything. And I mean everything, from the silverware in the main house to the multi-million dollar company Carter's grandfather built from the ground up.

As a woman who watched her grieving and abruptly single mother struggle to make ends meet, it was always clear I was always going to have to pound the pavement to be able to live a decent life, much less survive. I worked hard to get where I was, and it makes my skin crawl to think the right man fell in love with me and snap! That automatically made me rich.

But certain emotions, love and hate for example, are powerful enough to overlook such matters.

Carter

"We may be rich," Nessa snarks back at me, "but the money can be spent on better things than bralettes." When is my goddess of a wife - that'll never get old, wife - going to realize I would spend copious funds on her?

I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her hair, taking in the intoxicating smell of her jasmine conditioner. "I can't think of anything better to spend our money on," I whisper as my lips travel down to meet hers briefly, before Nessa pushes me away. To anyone else, it would come off as playful, but I know she's still down from last night.

Our wedding yesterday was perfect, dare I say at risk of sounding cliche and sappy, a fairytale, except for one thing. Nessa's parents weren't there, one shallowed by death, the other, according to Nessa, by grief and anger. Yet, she walked down the aisle alone, smiling and resolute, despite how much I knew it sadden Nessa.

Nessa's happy bride mask came off the second we were alone, driving to the pier where our honeymoon yacht - really, the family one we've been on a few times before - was docked.

Thankfully, she seems better this morning. Not much, but I'll take her returning snark as a good sign.

***

A little later

The woman fixes breakfast, arranging the feast like she's often seen at the fancy brunches she attended before. She pours the champagne in the glasses, adding chunks of strawberries in her husband's. Normally, she would put it in her own, but not today.

Honestly, she usually wouldn't have champagne with breakfast at all, but she's making an expectation today. After all, there is great cause for celebration this morning.

The woman doesn't seem to be in the mood to celebrate such a happy occasion, though.

A cheerful whistle cuts through the silence, before her husband engulfs her in a tender hug. For a split second, the woman seems annoyed, but she puts on her usual grin before turning around to face the ecstatic husband.

Vanessa

Carter has that dopey "high off love" smile going when I face him, something I've grown to hate over the years.

He doesn't deserve to smile like that, not after what he did to my family.

I reach behind me, carefully picking up the two champagne flutes, giving one to Carter. "To us, Carter."

Clinging his glass against mine in solidarity, Carter announces into the open air, "to us and the rest of our lives," before taking a big sip from the bubbly and fruity combo.

I take a small sip and grin like a Cheshire cat behind the glass. It's the first authentic smile I've had in a long time.

***

Minutes later

Carter

Another wave of vertigo hits, forcing me to lean against the deck railing again. I would say it's motion sickness, except the fact I've been on boats plenty a time beforehand, and I've never gotten sick. Plus, I am feeling more than just the dizziness.

"You okay, Carter?" Nessa's voice sounds, distorted, fading in and out.

"I jjjust think...the stra.." My tongue feels too big for my mouth. My body feels ice cold, despite the buckets of sweat pouring down my body. Everything hurts, even my brain's agonized by the most minute of thoughts.

Nessa sneaks up behind me, stroking my hair like she is comforting a child. I've always loved her hands in my hair.

"It'll be over soon."

What?

The hands turns into talons, digging into my scalp, and forcing me to face the three, no, two, Nessas. Her eyes are nearly void, with only a spark of unwavering fury to be seen. It as if she has turned into the mythical Medusa, turning me to stone with her stare, though that could be whatever is in my system right now.

"This has been a long time coming, Carter." She spits my name out like acid, burning me with the lack of love.

Why? I can barely breathe, much less speak now, but my eyes must convey what I want, because she answers my silent question.

"Ten years ago, you killed Dad and you didn't even go to trial because your father bribed and threatened your way to freedom."

To say I was a stupid kid ten years ago would be a lie. I was out of control, a smear to my family's legacy. A bunch of us had snuck out, drinking and smoking Mary Jane by the water, singing off-key renditions of some recent music.

I shouldn't have been driving.

Dusk was coming as I rushed home, hoping to get home before my dad was up. I didn't want to have to hear his unoriginal rants that morning. It was amazing I was able to stay in my lane; I was so far from sober the word had escaped my vocabulary.

I didn't even know I hit something until I regained consciousness. But the man's accusing dead eyes were the first thing to greet through the shattered windshields, eyes that rightfully haunted me for many years.

I thought that was my penance, to be tortured by his eyes for the rest of my life, and I accepted it, knowing I deserved a lot worse. After that, I became like day and night, leaving my partying ways, going to rehab, and becoming the poster wild child who turned his life around.

When Nessa came into my life, I questioned the universe. How could I ever deserve such a wonderful and gracious woman in my life? Seems I was right to ask. But instead on dwelling on that fact, I let karma in the form of a woman lull me into a false security, until she came, like an angel of vengeance.

Nessa shoves my heavy body to the opening, obviously preparing to dump me overboard. "Might as well tell you, even if the police find your body, they're going to think it was an accidental drowning. You, uh," she shrugs her shoulders, "slipped and fell. Plus, the paralytic in your system will be long gone in the next hour."

Then, Nessa kneels down, bringing her mouth to my ear. "And, Carter, I never loved you." She rips off the necklace I gave her after I told her I love her for the first time, tossing it into the ocean. Then she gives a final push, sending my rigid body to its watery grave.

I'm dead before I hit the water; Nessa's confession tore through my chest and ripped out my heart. Then as my last breath escapes, I watch as the air bubbles float to the surface.

I know it's the lack of oxygen, but they kind of look like strawberries.