This is the third installment in the saga about my broken engagement with my high school sweetheart, Kate. If you missed the first or second part, please read them first.
***
A normal person would have just moved on with his life.
But that's not my style.
I could've keyed her car. I could've called her apartment at all hours. I could've slept with her best friend and her sister. These are all acceptable forms of retaliation for jilted lovers according to the Cynical Dad Manual Of Love And War™.
But I've always been someone who takes things to extremes. I decided if I couldn't have her, no one could have her.
Yeah, I could've handled things much better. But I was young, dumb, and full of rage. Sometimes the heart overpowers the head.
I decided to make it look like Lisa offed the TA and then did herself in. I typed a note (and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to write that she was offing them both because she regretted screwing me over (because really, wouldn't that have pointed the cops in my direction?)), ready to plant at the scene of the crime to make it look like she was the one responsible for the carnage.
And yeah, I totally stole the idea from Heathers. I had seen the movie a month earlier and had fallen in love with it. [Note to any future homicidal maniacs in the audience: when you decide to knock off someone, have some originality. You don't want to be known as The Heathers Hitman.]
So on April 29, 1989, I parked my car down a road near her apartment complex.
I walked to the edge of the parking lot. I looked for the route to her door with the least amount of light. It was then that I realized I hadn't planned things out as well as I had thought. But I couldn't turn back.
I made it to the back of the complex, peeked through her sliding glass doors, and saw that the living room was dark, so I knew they were in bed. I walked to the front door and put my key in the doorknob. "Dumbass," I said as I turned the doorknob. To this day, I can't believe she didn't change the locks.
I still wish she would have changed the locks. Things would've turned out much differently.
I walked into the living room. I could hear the television coming from the bedroom.
Our bedroom.
I crept slowly down the hall.
I paused. What the hell are you doing? There's no way you're going to get away with this.
But I continued down the hall.
I got to the bedroom door and took a deep breath.
I threw open the door, flipped on the light, and shouted,
"APRIL FOOL!"
Song of the day: Poor Little Fool by Ricky Nelson
The Broken Engagement, Part III: The Broken Life
