That Girl in the Black Dress

Evenings were always the hardest. As he sat alone in his studio apartment he kept staring aimlessly at the blank wall in front of him. There used to be a lovely Monet reproduction hanging there along with a reprint of Rick’s Cafe. Nina Simone was singing My Baby Just Cares For Me on his battered vinyl player as he kept shaking his Drambuie glass without taking a sip. His dinner of ham and cheese sandwiches and a tossed salad lay uneaten on his tray. 

He decided to step out of the apartment for a bit. It had been nearly a week since he had been out of the house and he felt the need for some fresh air to hit his face. He put on his overcoat and stepped out. 

As he walked on the crowded sideways he put his hands inside his pocket. It was a chilly evening. He was oblivious to the hustle of streets at that time and his mind was in a delicious state of emptiness. It seemed it could no longer think anything at all. The emptiness of his mind and that aching heaviness in his heart seemed to be at odds with each other. He walked along their regular coffee shop when he stopped. 

She was sitting by the window seat of the cafe, an espresso in her hand. She was dressed in a black dress, just like she used to be, most of the time. She had a smile on her face as she spoke to a muscular man in a green shirt. Everything about her appearance seemed perfect except a trickle of blood that seemed to roll down her forehead to her face. 

He was shocked to see her there and like that. He rushed inside the cafe and headed towards the window seat. As he pushed through the crowded cafe his heart was pounding at twice its speed. When he finally reached he saw the table was empty. Where is she, he asked loudly. Where is that woman in black who was sitting here, his pitch was higher and bit more frantic. No one knew what he was talking about. Finally he had to be ushered out of the cafe politely. 

His mind was now racing. Filled with thoughts. A few moments ago he felt light headed and empty. And now he had a million thoughts racing inside. He was certain that he was her there. Where could she have disappeared? 

As he stepped out of the cafe he kept on walking forward on the sideway. He walked past their favourite bookshop and there again he saw her. Dressed in black, reading her favourite book The Bell Jar. Their eyes met as she looked out of the bookshop on the sideway. He could see the blood trickle down her forehead the same way he’d seen in the cafe. He kept staring at her as she got up from her seat to apparently come out and meet him. 

He kept waiting there for a while but there was no sign of her. He was getting impatient now. He went inside the bookshop and bumped into the pretty girl who worked there. Where is she, where is she, he asked her sternly. She looked at him surprised. She didn’t know what he was talking about. That girl in the black dress, lady, he repeated over and over and again. Like the cafe earlier, he was asked to leave the bookshop too. 

His mind was in a tizzy by now. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He felt a slight tremble in his knees as he was standing outside the bookshop. He knew he had to go home. 

He turned around and started walking back towards the apartment. His quick steps soon turned to a mini sprint. He kept seeing that girl in the black dress all around him. It felt like a bad dream as he dashed towards the apartment. He reached his apartment and unlocked the door and rushed in. He went straight to his bed where she lay in peace. Her eyes peacefully shut. Her black dress untarnished. The trickle of blood from her forehead had coagulated. Under the bed lay the pistol, which was last used by him a week ago. Next to the gun lay the two pictures…the Monet and the Rick Cafe with blood streaks all over them. 

He lay in bed next to her lifeless body. He kept looking at her peaceful face for a while before he shut his own eyes. Wishing he didn’t have to open them again.

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