Oh, Mindy (rewrite)

“I killed him, Mindy.  He’s dead.  I felt so good about it, too.  I had an orgasm.  I came as he died.”
 
Mindy, seated on the living room sofa and enveloped in yellowish lamplight, looked at Louise, who was standing in front of her.

“What?” she said, an astonished look on her face.

“What?  What do mean, what?  We discussed it.  You knew I was going to kill him.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Shut up.  You didn’t think I was going to do it, did you?  Well, I did.”  Louise sat close so that Mindy could feel her breath and see only her face.  Speaking softly, Louise continued:  “About a half hour ago I opened the door to his bedroom very carefully.  Everything was grey inside, no color at all.  His window fan roars like chopper and sucks the door away from you if you don’t grab the knob just right.  You know that.  All the times we’ve gone into his room while he’s sleeping.  I was careful to close the door without letting go of the knob.  I was in.”  Louise gave a small giggle before she went on.  “I waited a few seconds to make sure he was asleep.  I heard his breathing and that little snore he makes.  Snuffling, almost like that valve on the radiator in winter.  He sleeps so soundly, though.  I mean he slept soundly.”  She laughed.  “He’s really asleep now because he’s dead.”

“Louise, I . . .”

“I said to shut up,” Louise screamed.  Her deep, black eyes narrowed.  She studied Mindy as if her sister were a specimen.

Then, moving close and using a soft voice again, she said, “Let me describe how I did it, Mindy, and what happened.”  She took a breath.  “I tiptoed to his bedside and watched him for a long time.  There he was on his back, his mouth open as usual, just snuffling away, his chest with all its grey hair rising and falling, rising and falling.  His skin was so white.  Except for his huge nose, his face was gaunt and bony, like a skull covered with parchment.

“I could smell his breath, too.  I smelled it as soon as I opened the door.  You know, that sour, moist tobacco smell from all his cigarettes.  I wish he’d quit.  Oh, but now he has quit, hasn’t he?”  Louise went into a high-pitched cackle.

Mindy got up, but Louise grabbed her arm and pulled here down.  Smiling, she surveyed Mindy but held her arm firmly and said, a bit louder, “I decided that since he was so weak and could hardly put up much of a fight, I would smother him.  I considered bashing his head with that iron lamp on the table beside him, but the blood and all would be hard to explain, and we’d have to make up some consistent story.  Smashing him would be a pain in the ass.”  She released Mindy’s arm and reclined against the sofa, folding her arms and staring into the darkness.

“So, I walked around to Mother’s side of the bed and took her pillow,” she said.  “I think Mother would like the idea of her pillow smothering him, don’t you?  I don’t think she really loved him.  I mean, she put up with him, cooked for him, made coffee by the gallons for him, but I don’t think it was out of love.  Duty.  I think that’s the word, duty.  She died in the line of duty, poor thing.  All he did was work nights and sleep all day.  They never slept together.  I wonder if she missed sex, or he missed sex.  Maybe they were both gay.”  She tittered again.  “No, I don’t believe that, but could you ever imagine them making love?  Makes me want to throw up.”

Mindy tried to get up again.  Louise grabbed the waistband of her jeans and slung her down.

“Try to get up again and you’ll join him,” Louise said in a soft, sweet voice.

Mindy leaned back, tears trickling down her cheeks. 
“Anyway,” Louise said.  “I took the pillow over to his side, and without a moment’s hesitation, I placed it over his face and pushed down hard.  Now, I expected him to struggle, just a little bit, but guess what?  He didn’t.  It was like it was all right with him.  I don’t know if it was all right with him, but he put up no struggle.  I always thought it was a natural to struggle when your breath is stopped, but I guess not.”  She grinned.

“Oh, Mindy, I watched him die.  I didn’t see his face or anything, but I could feel him die.  As I pushed the pillow down tight, I noticed after a short while that his heart was beating faster.  I could hear it, even feel it with my right wrist, which touched his chest.  Beating.  Started as a thump, thump, thump, increasing all the time until it hummed.

“Did you know that happened when a person dies?  I didn’t.  I thought the heart just stopped slowly, but his was like mmmmmm.”  She stopped a moment and stared into the dark as if she was reminiscing.
 
“And, then he started to gasp.  Long gasps like he was struggling for air, and he was.  And then, short gasps, shorter and shorter until he gasped really big and rose up.  I thought that now he’d begin to struggle because he pushed me off him onto the floor.  I was so surprised.  But, instead of getting up, he flopped back and stopped breathing.  I sat for a time and listened.  It was so quiet.  It was so quiet I could feel the lack of sound imbedded in my ears like cotton.”  Putting her hands in her lap, she scooted down, and using her index fingers and thumbs, she began framing the darkness like she was composing a picture.

“I got up and looked at him.”  Squinting one eye, she swept the room with her frame, stopping on Mindy, whose tears made wet splotches on her green t-shirt.  “His mouth was still open, but the little snore was gone.  His chest no longer went up and down.  He was changing right before me.  He shrunk, it seemed, or better yet, he sunk.  He sunk into his body as if all the air and moisture left him, as if he’d been covered with chiffon.  It was so spooky.  I watched him change.”  She dropped her hands and giggled.

“It was then I had the orgasm.  I moaned, even, then felt totally relaxed, you know?  Satisfied.  I laughed out loud, but he didn’t move.  I was happy he was dead.  Thrilled.  Oh, Mindy, does that make me crazy to be sexually satisfied that our father is dead?  If so, I love insanity.”

She leaned closer and began smoothing Mindy’s auburn hair.  “Oh, Mindy.  It’s all ours now, everything.  The old fucker was loaded, wasn’t he?  Maybe even millions.  And insurance.  Remember, he told us he got two million when Mom died, and no telling what he was covered for.  Mindy, we’re rich, very rich.”  She twirled strands of Mindy’s hair into curls.  “And, dear baby sister of mine, he’ll never bother us again.”  She smirked like a vamp.  “We’ll just marry virgin men, and they won’t know the difference.”  She pushed hard on Mindy’s head.

“Stop crying.  And shaking.  Why are you so surprised?  I told you and told you I’d kill him someday.  Didn’t I?  Answer me.”

Her voice quivering, Mindy looked at Louise and said, “I thought it was just talk.  I never dreamed you’d actually kill Daddy, no matter what he’d done to us.”  She searched Louise’s face, which was emotionless.  “Louise I hate to tell you this, but Daddy didn’t have a will, and his insurance was borrowed on to the hilt.  Miller, his lawyer, told me that just the other day, saying that we should talk to Daddy about writing a will.  A-and, they’ll know he was murdered.  They can tell if someone has been suffocated.  Louise, what have you done?”  She sobbed.

Louise’s eyes softened; she smiled slightly.  Once again caressing her sister’s hair, Louise said, as if to a child, “Oh, Mindy, don’t fret.  Everything will be all right.”  She tugged gently on Mindy’s hair.  “Everything will be just fine.”

                                                    The End