Every Day Is Special Until It Is Not
-Celebrate while you can
Wanda purchased a lavender hand moisturizer at Mindy’s for her partner, Kelly. Though Valentine’s was a week away, she supposed she could pick these small knick-knacks for a week. The cream would give Kelly a definite buzz. If Kelly could, she would dive in oils, gels and perfumes — live there for the rest of her life, and never come up.
Wanda saw the fresh white daffodils and couldn’t resist buying them. She could hear Kelly’s stern voice in her head, for they already had a garden full of these lovelies at home. But Wanda considered herself a bit of a sly. She would make a date out of the takeaway she had grabbed on her way. To her, every day was special — date special.
Kelly, a forensic expert, came home to a dinner of fried rice and meatballs. And the white daffodils. She shook her head at Wanda as they sat for their meal. There was no point in scolding a beaming Wanda for Kelly figured she’d end up handing those flowers to the woman.
They talked about the day. Sharing between them a bottle of the leftover white wine from the other day, Kelly told her partner about the four mutilated bodies the lab had received that day. Since nothing escaped Kelly’s vigilant eyes, she had deduced, the murder weapon was a mix of chemicals. The bodies were maimed after death. Nevertheless, she wanted to be thorough in her examination, and it looked like a long week ahead. Since she couldn’t give the details, Kelly gave Wanda loose facts. Then they spent the Friday night watching murder-mystery flicks, their favorite.
At work, on Monday morning, Wanda placed her purse at the reception of The Jenkin hotels’ Bass street branch, where she worked as a receptionist from nine to five every day. She chattered away at Jim, who was finishing his night shift. She told him about the cream, daffodils, and the date night. Then she showed him all the knick-knacks she had picked last week — the lotion, a perfume, a heart-shaped card. She carried everything in her pink handbag.
Mr. Trenton from room 643 stood by, skimming the daily from the stand they kept for their guests. Wanda sent him a smile before she swiped her card and checked her terminal for the check-ins and outs of the day.
Mr. Trenton approached the desk; all smiles. “A date night, is it?”
“You bet, Mr. Trenton,”
“And may I ask what was the occasion, young lady?”
“Oh, it was just another day, Mr. Trenton. That’s what it was.” She grinned at him.
“That makes it special.”
“And what brings you to the desk, Mr. Trenton? How can I help you?”
“This old man has locked himself out of his room, Wanda. God help me, I forget those card thingies you use around here. Can’t understand why they stopped making the metal ones. Those were the real keys. These cards are puny substitutes if you ask me.”
Wanda laughed as her heart melted for the helpless old man, “Aww, Mr. Trenton, tell you what, let me get my copy. You have a seat and tell me what’s on the news today. And enjoy this coffee while you do.”
She poured a piping hot brew, The Jenkins specialty, and darted inside, leaving her purse-litter on the counter.
With her keycard, she escorted Mr. Trenton to his room. Her sharp eyes wandered over the room to check if the housekeeping had done their work. Satisfied, she took her leave.
On Valentine’s day, Wanda presented a wicker basket full of doo-dahs to Kelly. Both women had taken a day off. Since winter had no intention of leaving, they had other plans of cozying up locked inside their home.
As expected, Kelly was thrilled with the lavender lotion. She broke the seal and used it liberally on her hands. Then she lathered some on Wanda’s hands. The mild smell gave their wine-buzzed minds a new high. Hands clutched, the pair of them giggled like lunatics until they dropped to the ground like flies choking on pest-repellants. A deep silence followed.
*****
When the newspapers piled at the doorstep and when the women didn’t show up to work, a week later, their decomposed bodies, hands joined, were found by the medics.
