Red, White, and Baby Blues

The frantic dogs barked themselves hoarse – a ghoulish, guttural sound that was more primal howl than bark. And they clawed, and clawed until the solid-wood door was covered in jagged lines and the varnish began to come clean off. Their distress was as palpable as the shiny white saliva foaming at their mouths. At first glance, one would not be remiss in thinking that the two shiny-coat, tail-wagging golden retrievers had suddenly caught a severe case of rabies. Reality, however, may just have been slightly worse for the owners of the sprawling 7,200 feet mansion on a hill. On and on the dogs barked and clawed. On and on the sound of their despair travelled, across hills, banging against rocks, and drowning in marshy puddles. Meeting no one, bringing no reprieve, and yet unmistakably conveying the irrevocable upheaval that was afoot.

…

As Janelle made the long, winding drive up the deceptively steep slopes, her thoughts were consumed by the events of the day. The smile on her face had not relented since she had received confirmation of her promotion. She couldn’t believe that after all these years, she had finally broken the proverbial glass ceiling. Her name was about to be on all the doors, and all the stationery, and all the mugs, and the windows too! Jefferson, Morgan, Daniels. It sounded just right, she thought. Ignoring the radio presenters blasting through her car radio engrossed in a passionate debate about ‘who should pay for the first date,’ she let her thoughts of the past 11 and a half years take up the co-driver’s seat. From a doe-eyed, fresh-faced law school graduate, 24 years-old, barely scraping by, to a name partner at the firm of her dreams. It felt as if with every turn on that long, deserted country-side road, she was reaching for her younger selves, embracing them tight and letting them know, WE did it.

“Jefferson, Morgan, Daniels,” she caught herself saying out loud and let out an almost infantile giggle.

By the time she was coming to the monstrous wrought iron gates that guarded the Daniels’ property from unwanted glances and unwelcome chatter, she all but had to engage every one of her reflexes to bring her car to a stop. For the first time in the two years they had lived in that house, the 25-minute drive from the city to her home had felt like a 5-minute jog. It was as if her excitement had buoyed, nay, propelled her car forward at earth-shattering speed. At the flick of a button, the doors began to slowly spring into life, arms opening wide in an embrace, as if they too were aware that a dream had become reality that day. She drove in slowly, savoring every bit of this life that he had built for them. Every inch of the driveway felt smoother, every tree greener, every flower more vibrant, and the big tiered fountain that formed the centerpiece of their front yard, whooshing and swishing water everywhere, no longer looked gaudy, ridiculous or, out of place.

Springing out of the car with a visible bounce in her step, she darted up the stairs to the front door, two at a time. She knew Tim, or Big T as she endearingly called her 6-foot 5 inches, brown-haired, blue-eyed mountain of a husband, was home by now. Thankfully, it paid well to be a successful, and somewhat eccentric, tech mogul, and it meant he almost always got home hours before she even left her office. Big T had known success much earlier than Janelle; by the time they met, he was the founder and owner of a global tech conglomerate with arms in media, education and even healthcare. Big T had a good 15 years on her, but his dashing rockstar-esque appearance and youthful exuberance had quickly won her over. Or worn her down, depending on how you looked at it. And of course, those ocean blue eyes with little green and grey freckles that glinted iridescently in the sun and glowed with each smile.

They had dated for just over 6 months when he proposed – he told her he had waited 48 years to meet the love of his life, and he would not waste a single second not spending the rest of it with her. Almost three years into the marriage and he had built her a mansion larger than his personality, and given her unconditional support when she worked grueling hours and put his plans to start a family on hold until she made name partner. Until now. The smile returned, even larger this time, and even though her jaw ached and her lips quivered, she couldn’t get herself to stop.

One of the few – and they were very few – downsides of dating an eclectic multi-millionaire was his warranted paranoia. Big T wasn’t a recluse, in fact, he loved people. He just didn’t want to live near any of them or have them in his house. Aside from the cleaning crew, with lawn manicurists and pool maintenance guys in tow, the only other person he let into his sanctuary was his personal chef, Paolo, who had made his every meal since he sold his first company at 24. Unfortunately, Paolo was away visiting family in the sunny streets of Sicily, and their mansion on a hill, in the middle of desert land that continued for miles either side, felt emptier than usual. Janelle’s footsteps echoed loudly across the gold and white marble floors Big T had picked out himself in Sevilla. She set her bag down on the console table in the foyer – Big T was also a raving germophobe, and if it were solely up to him, they would have an entire decontamination chamber beside the front door. She stumbled excitedly into the closet underneath the stairs, hurriedly slinging off her Manolos and shoving her coat onto the ridiculous hot pink love seat that was Big T’s pride and joy.

As she clambered into the elevator, half running, half floating, she could already imagine the big toothy grin that would meet her news. How he would pick her up as if she was weightless in those big, burly arms and all-but squeeze the life out of her. Big T was many things, but he was her biggest supporter first. She had seen that time and time again, when he would sideline meetings to help her prepare presentations, or hear case arguments. The many nights he’d wait up for her to get home after yet another unrelenting work day. The countless affirmations he’d shower on her every morning before she left, even when he was continents away. He’d always known this day would come, even on those days when Janelle’s belief in herself was wanning. She could smell the sandalwood that seemed to radiate from his very skin, feel the prickles of his stubble that he was always too busy to shave, and more than anything, she could already see the unbridled pride in his big baby blues.

The chiming of the elevator as it arrived on the third floor that housed her husband’s office broke Janelle out of her reverie. The minute those stainless-steel doors began to part, she heard it. Suddenly the impregnable silence was inundated by indomitable barking. The only thing punctuating the hoarse howling of their dogs, was the clawing, a horridly shrill sound, each louder than the one before. She had always read about instant goosebumps and hair-raising encounters and thought it to be the machinations of overly imaginative, brilliant writers. Yet there she was, rooted in place, elevator doors wide open, skin crawling, covered in goosebumps, and every hair on her body standing at attention. For a split second she couldn’t get herself to move, as if knowing that if she did, everything would change. Then the adrenaline kicked in and she sprang into action, sprinting across the narrow, carpeted hallway, walls littered with posters of all of Big T’s favourite movies – each signed by the director. The closer she got, the further away she felt from reality. She found their dogs at the foot of his office door, exhausted but unrelenting in their mission to get through the mahogany door. As soon as they heard her, they went mum, peering over big brown eyes, hoping and praying that one of their owners would give them answers.

Pushing her way past them, she tried to turn the knob and it wouldn’t budge. Silently, without so much as a “Tim are you in there?” she picked up the flower pot that called the little glass console table next to the door home. In one swift motion, she removed the faux hydrangeas that sat in it, and retrieved his office key. As she turned back towards the door, she saw Ollie and Otis still peering up at her expectantly, but they had slumped down into a half-sitting, half-sleeping position, clearly too exhausted by the exploits of the afternoon to even stand at her side as they always did. Her hands were trembling so debilitatingly that she had to stop and take a breath (or five) before she could muster up the literal, and metaphorical strength, to put the key in, turn it and open the door.

She didn’t know what she was expecting to see, but it sure wasn’t the glassy, lifeless blue eyes of the love of her life staring back at her. And somehow, surrounded by the glistening red pool that had encircled his body, she thought they looked even more beautiful and blue.