Aleatha Romig - Behind His Eyes

The conference finally finished around 10:45 AM. He’d tried to end it sooner, as he wanted to appreciate every second they had together before her test. She must have heard that his conference ended, because when he turned his chair, she was looking in his direction. Immediately, she placed the magazine on the table and walked toward him. Grinning, he murmured, “Ahh, blue, my favorite color.” Tony was suddenly thankful for his loose-fitting sweatpants. “You’re beautiful in any color.” He drank her in, savoring everything about her. His eyes settled on her diamond journey necklace. He knew why Catherine had laid it out: it helped to create the persona that Claire enjoyed the finer things. Nevertheless, he’d always liked it. Lowering his gaze to the neckline of her sweater, his tone turned sultry. “Or, in no color.” Putting his hands around her waist, Tony longed to pull Claire onto his lap and whisper, follow my rules—I know you can. If he did, would it ruin the test? He could say it loud and proud. Anthony Rawlings wasn’t hiding from anyone; instead, he caressed her trim waist and said, “I have one more web conference at 11:00 AM and then two lunch phone calls. I’d like you back after that.” It wasn’t a request: it was a demand or a plea. He wasn’t sure anymore.

“It’s so nice out. I’d like to go for a hike while you’re working.”

“No.” Tony slowed his tone. He couldn’t give anything away. “The phone calls may need to be postponed, depending on the outcome of the next web conference. I’d like you here, if I’m done earlier. We can lunch and discuss our possible afternoon activities.” He turned back to his computer screen and read while he spoke. It was the message he’d planted, the next step. As he was about to continue, Claire surprised him with kisses to his neck.

Warm breaths instigated chills, as Claire responded. “Well, then, may I just go out back? The sky’s so clear, and I could really use some fresh air.”

He didn’t try to contain his seductive grin. “Okay, just be back by noon, and …” It was now or never. “… could you get me some coffee before you go?”

Each move she made filled him with hope and desire. His arousal was nicely hidden, but as soon as she left, he definitely needed to reposition his seating. One more kiss to his neck and Claire said, “Yes.”

At 10:57 AM, Claire returned to his desk with a warm cup of coffee. When he heard her approaching, he picked up his iPhone and pretended to have a conversation as he rummaged through papers on his desk. When he hung up, he turned and faced his wife. Tony’s body battled with his mind as he fought his personal desire. It was the confidence of her impending behavior that propelled him forward. “Tell Eric there are contracts at the Iowa City office. I need them here before 1:00 PM. He needs to get them immediately.” For a moment, Claire stood silently and stared with her big, innocent emerald eyes. A small voice told him that she knew his plan, she was ahead of him and—and—he waited for the voice to tell him if she would pass. Then he remembered her earlier request. Claire didn’t know his plans; she wanted to walk outside. Exhaling the building tension, he added, “And after that, you may go for your walk. Just be back by noon.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek. “Okay. I’ll tell Eric and be back.” He watched as she hurried away. The web conference was to begin in two minutes, yet he felt as though his life was literally walking toward her destiny. He adjusted his computer screen and pulled up the house surveillance.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, where she’d placed it, was his coffee. Tony looked at the cup. He’d never asked Catherine the specifics about the contents. He had no reason to distrust her. She said he’d wake after he drank it. Tony knew that Catherine would not disappoint him.

The conference began as each participant introduced him or herself. Tony listened halfheartedly as he scanned their resumes. They were the pages he’d been ruffling through earlier. He heard their voices and put names with their faces; all the while he watched the small section of his screen devoted to the garages.

After he’d introduced himself and given a synopsis of the goals he planned to accomplish during the next thirty minutes, he watched Claire enter the garage. Briefly, she gazed at the cars and then walked toward Eric’s apartment door. The small image didn’t have sound, but he could see as she knocked and Eric opened his door. It seemed as though Eric answered a little too quickly; after all, he was expecting Claire, but Claire didn’t seem to notice.

The exchange between her and Eric lasted only seconds, but as the cup of coffee taunted him, Tony felt as if time were standing still. Then the examination he’d prepared unfolded before his eyes. Eric grabbed his coat and hat, unlocked the key cabinet on the wall, removed a set of keys, and shut the cabinet. Tony held his breath as the small metal door bounced open. It wasn’t overt and Eric didn’t appear to notice. He was still speaking with Claire as he looked at his watch. Next, the garage door opened to the outside world as sunlight streamed over the camera, fading the color from the corner of Tony’s screen.

On the larger image, two participants discussed something about a quantitative summary. Tony didn’t care. His attention was on the small corner where Claire wrapped her arms around her midsection and watched Eric drive away. Color returned to the image as the garage door closed. She turned back to the way she’d entered when she stopped and stared toward the open cabinet.

Tony didn’t know what was being said on his web conference as he held his breath and waited. Seconds earlier, time had stood still; now he couldn’t slow it down. Claire reached into the cabinet and grabbed a set of keys. The ones to the new Mercedes were purposely placed in a more accessible spot. The headlights flashed as she hit the button on the fob.

When the garage door opened again, Tony didn’t notice the loss of color. His vision, his office, his life was red. The disappointment was overwhelming. The pain of betrayal washed over him as the crimson-colored memories sped through his consciousness. Everything—all twenty-two months—was a lie. Claire never loved him. If she had, she wouldn’t have jumped at the first opportunity to leave. She’d played him, used him, and manipulated him. He’d been a fool to believe that love existed. He’d never seen it—not the love they talk about in songs or in books. Not the look she’d given to Simon Johnson. None of it was real. It was a fictitious emotion created for saps who wanted to believe, an illusion—like Santa Claus. The idea brought people joy, until they were faced with the bitter reality and disappointment of betrayal. Hadn’t Tony learned the truth a long time ago? Numbers were real. Money was real. Emotions were for the weak.

As the garage door closed, Tony reached for the ceramic cup. The liquid had cooled, yet as he used one hand to make the web conference fill his entire screen, his other hand tentatively touched the rounded handle as if it were potentially scalding. He didn’t know how long it took to pick up the cup, or to take that first drink; however, as soon as he did, redness exploded, extreme pain clenched his chest, and blackness prevailed.

Consequences are unpitying.

—George Eliot

Voices infiltrated the smothering darkness. Tony fought to find the surface, to break free of the blackness that surrounded him. It was as if he were at the bottom of a deep pit filled with water, swimming toward the air, pushing upward with all of his strength. Where was it? As the voices became clearer, he focused on and used them as his new goal. With all his might, he pushed toward the sound. A few more attempts and he’d break free.

The voices were clear. “Doctor, his vitals are stronger. The medicines have gotten his blood pressure back within the normal range.”

“Have there been any signs of regaining consciousness?”

The first voice sounded less confident. “His physical response has been encouraging. The results of the EEG are in his chart, but we haven’t had any signs of voluntary movement.”

Tony pushed forward, I’m here. I can hear you! The darkness wouldn’t allow him to speak. Unrelenting, it wrapped about him, filled him, and held him tight.

“Doctor, do we know the substance he ingested?”

“Not completely. The preliminary tests of the coffee found at the scene, and the contents removed from his stomach, confirm that the coffee was the source; however, due to his physical reaction, we believe the list is inconclusive.”

“There was more than one toxin?”

“Yes, whoever did this, wanted to be sure it …”

The voices drifted farther away, taking with them Tony’s audible goal and disorienting him in the darkness. Exhaustion prevailed and the blackness momentarily won.

Tony blinked his eyes, trying to focus on the world beyond the black. The room was bright, too bright, as people spoke. Keeping his eyes open was too difficult; instead, he settled into the darkness of his closed eyes and tried to listen. He heard voices, but their words were unfamiliar. Slowly they began to register … his heart—they were talking about his heart: it was beating.

That was reassuring, and he was glad to hear that, but he had to wonder: had it not been?

When he felt someone touch his forehead, he opened his eyes. It was one of the people in scrubs. Tony blinked toward her.