The Almonds.

TRIGGER WARNING- This short story contains Mature Content and Supense.

The Almonds.

Part One- Meet/Cute

“Forgive me. My English is good, but I have a- what do you say- I have a thick accent. French.” Said Thomas as he looked intensely into Marianne’s eyes. Were they teal, or were they blue? Contacts, maybe? Thought Thomas. She had just been crying, and he could tell. “Cigarette?” He offered, and she declined.

“No, but sit? Please?” She said, so he sat next to her in the hard, blue seat, and that was that. The meet/cute. Perhaps it was the sparkle in her eye, or the way she held up her hair when the wind from the open bus window blew it into her eyes, and mouth. Yes, don’t cover your eyes. Please! Don’t! He thought. He lit his cigarette, and as he exhaled, so did Marianne breathe in deeply.

“That reminds me of my husband. He used to smoke French cigarettes.” Said Marianne as she unzipped her purse. She took out her face powder, and opened it up. She did not need to be touched up. She just wanted to glance in the mirror to make sure she looked alright. She did. She snapped it shut. “Alright. Give me one of those, and, please, light it up?”

Thomas granted her request, and Marianne felt free for the first time in a long time. Smoking with a stranger on public transportation, the air felt good against her face, and then it happened. Thomas' cigarette blew out of his hand and onto Marianne’s cardigan. Then she accidentally dropped hers onto his lap as she frantically tried to put his cigarette out. With both fires extinguished, they both let out a laugh.

“Did that just happen? Please tell me that did not just happen.” She said, “Oh! I really liked this one! Oh!” She exclaimed as she examined her damaged clothing.

“The one day I wear my black jeans…” He said as Marianne stood up to close the window, but of course, the window was stuck.

“Blast!” She swore then sat down frustrated.

“It’s… it’s okay! We can move to the back. It’s darker back there, and the sun is in my eyes. Where I’m from, we have double deckers, and you do not want to be stuck up top. The sun, and bird… well… you know… not good… Really. No fun. Come with me!” He took her wrist, and away they went to the back seats. “See, I showed you. Much better.”

“Much better indeed. You seem to know the transit system well.”

“You do not?”

“I come from… somewhere else.”

Secrets. Now we bring in the secrets!

“Ah. Me too. I miss it. Being back home. I was happy there, but here- not so much.” Thomas had a cute smile, and this was where Marianne noticed it. Perfect teeth. Full, kissable lips, and a goatee that accentuated his jawline to perfection.

“Can I buy you a drink? Pubs just around the corner.” Marianne boldly asked. It had been a long time, and the evening was just getting started.

“Would… would he mind?” Asked Thomas.

“Who?”

“Your husband, ma’am.” And Marianne laughed for the second time that day.

“Excuse me. You must excuse me. He’s dead. My husband’s dead. Join me for a drink?!” She paused. “If you’re not interested- I’ll understand.”

“I… I’m interested.”

“Marion.” She said as she held out her hand.

“Thomas.”

Part Two- In the Smokey Pub.

Thomas lit Marianne another French cigarette, and then carefully handed it to her.

“I promise I won’t drop it.” She said with a smile. “What do you like to drink? I usually like Mezcal, but I feel like dancing, so, gin and tonic? Hmm? Extra limes?”

“Please.”

She ordered, and then after hers was gone, she ordered another round.

“You want music?” Asked Thomas.

“Oh, please!” And before she could count to ten, Thomas had, “Comment te dire adieu (It Hurts to Say Goodbye) by Francois Hardy playing. “Yes! How did you know? That’s… that’s my song.” And that was that.

Part Three- In the Sheets.

I did not mean to take us there, but here we go! Thomas certainly was not hiding any secrets under his clothing. His physique was more impressive than his smile, so Marianne could not help, but say,

“Thank you. Thank you for this.” She needed another drink after their first round, and Thomas said,

“This time- it’s my treat, but how about something more special?”

“Champagne? Really?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Yay!” She exclaimed, so he ordered up two bottles over ice. One for her, and one for him- far surpassing Marianne’s expectations. He had paid for their room, and now this? What next? Duck a l’orange?!

She thought, and he did it. He ordered up the duck a l’orange as if it were a dream. Who is this guy? Mr. Mind reader? As much as she liked him reading her thoughts as he did while they were in bed, she felt slightly uncomfortable. “Excause me, please.” And she entered the powder room, but only to ground herself. This is happening. This is really happening! She thought as she slipped off her heels, and placed her feet on the cold concrete. It made her more present. More aware. A technique her therapist had taught her. Then she took three deep breaths, and could smell the duck. That mouthwatering duck.

Thomas had his satchel with his wallet inside along with very few items. If he were to show them to you- he would have to kill you. As he finished with one of the items, he zipped up the satchel as she entered. He quickly dropped the bag down beside the bed, and she asked,

“Are you going to cut it, or shall I?”

“I got it, and your champagne awaits you.”

Was this too good to be true? Marianne wondered as she stared into the champagne glass watching the bubbles rise. The bubbles that would soon tickle her nose, and chill her throat. She raised the glass to her mouth, but Thomas said,

“Here’s yours.” And the duck looked beautiful. She picked up her knife and fork. She went to take a bite, but Tomas said,

“Dear me- am I lucky. To have you here tonight… well… I’m a very lucky man.”

“I’m.,. I’m flattered. My husband never said things like that to me. It was always- hush up! Be quiet! That’s probably why I don’t talk that much anymore.” Then, finally, she took a sip, and coughed a little. “Almond.” She sniffed the glass. Hmm. She thought. Then she took another sip. Almond. Tasty.

“You like?” Thomas asked, and she just smiled as it slowly went to her head. Then, she took a bite. It was the last bite she ever took. Thomas took a small nail file out of his satchel, and slowly filed his nails as Marianne foamed at the mouth. A champagne-tinged foam then erupted from her orifice. Facial paralysis began to set in, and she asked,

“Why? I tasted it… You didn’t even have to use that much.” Then the light left her eyes, and the breath left her body, and that was that.