Ava trembled as she stared down at the man’s body, lying twisted on the road. She swallowed, trying not to be repulsed by the blood seeping from underneath his head. She looked up at Max. He was holding his hair with his hands and shaking his head in disbelief.
“I think he’s dead, Ava.”
Ava nodded and returned her gaze to the man. She felt sick. His eyes were open; they still held the same look of shock that they’d had the second before their car had hit him. His brown corduroy trousers and tatty green coat looked like the impact hadn’t made them any worse than they’d been previously. This was clearly a man who had no home.
She turned away and walked towards the edge of the deserted road. There was a wooden fence separating the road from the slight drop down to the ocean. The tide was high and fierce. The car headlights were the only source of light for miles around, apart from the moon which shone down and made the moving sea sparkle. She took some deep breaths, attempting to clear her head and think sensibly. She knew that she had to think quickly. Although the road was quiet, someone could drive along at any minute. Max’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“I’ll ring the police,” he said.
She spun around to face him. “What?”
“We have to. Ava, I’ve just killed someone.”
“You’ve been drinking, Max.”
“I know I’ve been drinking,” he snapped. “But what else do you suggest we do?”
She looked at the body. The blood was starting to run towards where she was standing. She took a step back. It had been such a warm evening when they’d left the party, but now, even her bones felt cold. She wrapped her arms around her body. She looked back at the sea; it seemed to be whispering something that she couldn’t quite make out. She paused to listen, hoping to understand.
She looked at Max. “Can you lift him over this fence?” Her voice was shaking.
Max’s face dropped even further as he realized what she was suggesting. “We can’t.”
“I don’t think we have a choice,” she replied, moving towards him. She looked up into his face. “We can put him in the sea and then forget this ever happened.”
“Ava, that would be a terrible thing to do.”
“If the police find out, you’ll go to prison. For a long time. I can’t bear the thought of it. She wrapped her arms around her husband. “I don’t want to lose you, Max.”
He wiped a tear away from his face and nodded. “I guess you’re right,” he said. “We don’t have a choice.”
Ava watched Max stoop down and gather the old man into his arms. He suddenly looked so small and frail against her husband’s muscular frame. Max strained with effort as he straightened up and carried the body to the fence. Ava followed him to where the road ended and the sea began. She fought the urge to vomit.
Max turned to Ava. “This doesn’t feel right.”
She looked back at him. Her eyes were shining. “I know.”
Max pursed his lips and lifted the man up over the fence. Ava wincing as his head tipped back onto the wood. For a second, she was worried that the man would be hurt. She almost laughed as she remembered. Once he was clear of the fence, he let the body drop. There was an untidy splash as it hit the black of the ocean.
Max remained at the fence, watching the body floating away in the tides. Ava looked back at the road; there was a trail of blood where Max had carried the body from the middle of the road to the fence. She went to their car and pulled out some bottled water and a blanket from the back. Then she set to work on the road, pouring water on the blood and scrubbing it with the blanket until there was no visible trace remaining. She was determined to be pragmatic about this, for Max.
Max watched her. “How can you be so detached? You look like this doesn’t even bother you.”
She didn’t answer him. She finished clearing the last drops off the fence. “Hold your hands under the bottle and I’ll pour water on them.”
Max held his bloodstained hands out and rubbed them together as the cool water washed away the crime.
“You’ve got blood on your trousers, too,” she said. “We’ll burn those as soon as we get home, along with this blanket.”
He nodded.
She looked up at him. “I’m doing this for you, darling,” she said. “come on, let’s go home.”
They both instinctively looked to where they had dropped the body, but there was no sight of it anymore.
The couple held hands and walked back to the car. Ava put the blanket and empty water bottle into a plastic bag, tied it up and placed it in the foot well in front of the passenger’s seat. Max climbed back in behind the wheel and started the engine.
They drove home in silence. Every time they turned a corner, Ava saw the old man again, just for a second, before he disappeared again. He seemed to be perpetually stepping out in front of the car. She tried to close her eyes, but this only made the images worse. Instead, he was slamming against their windscreen and she was screaming. She opened her eyes again and looked across at Max. He was staring at the road ahead, barely blinking, but with tears falling down his face.
All the houses on Maple Street were lulled into the night’s silence, amalgamating with the darkness which was interrupted only by a small string of lights leading to the end of the street. Number 73 was a small house with an equally small garden, with white and dark pink primroses adorning the entrance to the porch. Of all the seven windows, only the smallest on the right was illuminated, but the thick green curtains refused to reveal anything to an outsider. The house had its eyes and its mouth shut, keeping everyone and everything at a distance.
Inside, Ava perched on the sofa and stared at the small fireplace that her husband lit a mere few minutes ago. The flames were already nibbling at the grey trousers that he had thrown on to them. She twisted the whisky glass in her hand. The drink wasn’t helping her forget, but it was making her feel numb at least. Besides, she didn’t care what it made her feel like; anything was an improvement on that terrible car journey home.
Ava was sure that they had done the right thing. Max would be put into prison if anyone knew what had happened, and she couldn’t be without him. Anyway, the silly old man must have been drunk – a sober and normal person wouldn’t have stumbled out in front of the car the in the middle of the night. If they hadn’t hit him, someone else definitely would have done.
Ava glanced across at Max. The four shots of bourbon he’d already gulped down did not appear to have steadied his nerves. He continued to pace up and down the room, repeatedly cracking the knuckles of each hand. It was the subconscious self-flagellation of a man who had just taken a life. He was a man of weak will and large appetites, and had never known himself as anything else. When he was offered a drink, he accepted it. Tonight, he might have overdone it, but it was a clear night which promised clear roads and perfect visibility. As he’d said to Ava earlier that evening, “It’s summer, for god’s sake!” Besides, as Max had also pointed out that night, it was his best friend’s thirtieth birthday. It would have been rude not to help him celebrate. Of course, Ava had offered to drive, but she wasn’t insured on the car. How ironic that something as small as insurance had made him refuse her offer.
The pacing was exhausting her. She couldn’t watch it any longer. She stood up and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Darling, it’ll be alright.”
Her smooth, waterfall voice was interrupted by his trembling, barely audible reply. “You didn’t do anything. It was me.”
“That’s not true. I should have driven,” she replied.
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“I’m here, no matter what.” She squeezed his shoulder. “We’re in this together.”
She removed her hand and sat back down on the sofa. “It’s going to be fine, Max.”
He turned to face her. “But what if someone finds him?”
She shook her head. “The tide was rough – it will have washed him miles out by now. And, anyway, he was tramp. No one will even notice he’s gone.”
Max stared at her. “Just a tramp? Will you listen to yourself, Ava? Christ.” He turned away and poured a brandy from the drinks table.
“I didn’t mean it like that. You know I didn’t,” she replied. “I just mean that homeless people go missing all the time, mostly because they’ve decided to move on and live somewhere else. Nobody will look for him.” She was hurt by her husband’s insinuation that she hadn’t been affected by the night’s events. Still, he was in shock, she knew. She reminded herself to be gentle with him.
Max nodded, downed his brandy and poured another.
“Anyway,” she continued, “even if the body does get found at some point, it will be decomposed. No one will link it back to us.”
“Maybe.”
Ava looked at the fire. “Your trousers are gone now.” She picked up the plastic bag with the bottle and blanket in and threw it onto the embers. Immediately the fire picked up again, greedily devouring the new offerings. “Once this is all burned I’ll empty the hearth, then there will be no trace.”
Max looked startled. “How are you so calm about all this?”
“One of us has to be, Max. If it wasn’t for me you’d be going to prison. What would you rather I did?” Her voice broke on the last few words.
“Yes, you’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. I’m just in shock. I appreciate you helping me.”
“I told you. We’re in this together.”
He put his glass down and opened his arms to her. She stepped into them and hugged him close, pressing her face against his chest.
“I think I can still smell him,” she said.
“I know. Me too,” he replied.
“But we can’t do. We’ve showered and changed. It’s not possible.”
“I think I’ll always be able to smell him, Ava,” he said. “He is in my eyes, my nose, even my mouth. He’s under my skin.”
Ava nodded. “He’s part of us now.”
Even as she said these words, she was both shocked and accepting of them. She couldn’t foresee a time when she would ever forget this evening, nor would she ever really make peace with the poor man who died, despite what she said to Max.
As they continued to stare at the fire, Ava heard a police siren in the distance. There was nothing unusual about this: sirens were often heard in the area. However, this time, the repetitive sound made her shiver. She turned to the cd player and switched it on. She didn’t care what music was playing; she just wanted to drown out her thoughts. She pressed play and turned the volume up to high.
Beethoven blared out of the speakers. Max turned to her and smiled. He seemed to know what she was trying to do for them both. She leant against his shoulder and allowed the music to wash over her, to cleanse her.
A light at the window caught her eye. She glanced over and saw car headlights outside, penetrating the curtains. She looked at Max. His eyes were on the fire, but his knuckles were white around his glass.
