Page 8 - The Final Words

On the drive home, Denise couldn’t wait to start the bath and soak away the hours. She
loved her job, but it was hard being on her feet all day. With Stephen at his friend’s house and
the apartment empty, she longed to have a quick bite to eat, soak in a bubble bath and curl up
with her Kindle to read one of the many romance novels she downloaded, but never had a
chance to read yet.

Denise kicked off her shoes. “Home at last.”

Denise heated some left-over pizza and made a small salad with green olives and Italian
dressing. For dessert she brewed fresh coffee and had a leftover piece of apple pie she picked
up at the grocery store the day before. She was fortunate Stephen left her a piece. Nineteen-
year-old boys had quite an appetite.

Denise ran the water in the tub, stripped down to her bare body and climbed in. She
leaned her head back and let the bubbles surround her. Her body relaxed, and she breathed the
fresh scented vanilla candles she had lighted, which gave off just enough light to brighten the
mood. She closed her eyes and thought back to the day Stephen died. It always irked her that
he had a heart attack at such a young age and never knew his son, Stephen, Junior. She had
found out she was pregnant a month after his death. She made a promise to herself that she
would never love again. The heartache wasn’t worth it. She couldn’t bear to go through another
loss. Denise’s cell phone rang, breaking her thoughts. It was Stephen calling. She had to answer
her son’s call. She picked up the towel on the rack, dried her hands, answered the phone and
sat back in the bubble bath, splashing water on the floor.

“Hello.”

“Hi, Mom. Jerry’s parents said I could sleep over tonight. Is that okay? I know it’s
Thanksgiving, do you mind? I’ll come home if you don’t want to be alone.”

“No, you stay over. It’s getting late and at least I won’t have to worry about you driving
in the dark. I’m tired anyway and will be going to bed shortly. Have a nice time, Sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Denise loved her son, but even a mother needed some time to herself after a long shift
at work. The bubbles subsided, and the water cooled, so it was time to drain the tub and dry
off. She put on a bathrobe and brushed her hair. The smooth strokes against her scalp always
relaxed her. She looked forward to sitting in front of the fireplace and reading.

Denise poured herself a glass of red wine and plopped down on the recliner. She had
her tablet all set to page one when she heard the strangest sound coming from the bedroom.

“Damn, after I just got all settled. What on earth is that annoying sound?” Denise took a
sip of wine and walked to the bedroom. The noise seemed to be coming from the closet. She
opened the door and her mouth dropped. Stephen’s typewriter.