Page 46 of The Golden Spoon
“What do you remember most about that night?” The interviewer is leaning forward in her chair. People love a good murder mystery.
“The rain. I’ve never seen so much rain,” I tell her. “And then the power went out. We were just stumbling around Grafton in the dark. It was terrifying…”
I don’t tell her how I remember Archie’s face when I opened the door. The big white smile that didn’t quite cover a flash of irritation. It was odd, I thought, him being annoyed by me showing up less than twenty-four hours after I’d slept with him and he’d promised me the world. I’d brushed my confusion aside. It must be just frustration related to the show, I’d figured. He and Betsyhadseemed off during the day. I pushed past him into his room.
“I broke up with Ben,” I’d told Archie proudly, leaning back on his bed in my tall black boots, trying to look at him seductively so that he’d come join me there. But he didn’t. He paced instead. “Who?”He didn’t recognize the name, even though I’d told him about Ben at least three times.
“Ben? My boyfriend? I called him and told him I met someone.” Archie finally looked at me then. Whenever I start to feel guilty or question myself, I try to remember that look. Pure and instant derision. Like I was the stupidest person who has ever lived.
“Why would you do that?” he’d said very slowly.
“So you and I would be free to do whatever we want, to be together.” I’d shrunken into myself as I’d said it, realizing the mistake. The utter miscalculation.
His mouth opened and closed in shock. Then this look of amusement came across his face. “You honestly thought that,” he sputtered, his finger flipping madly between the two of us. “That we? Oh, Hannah, there’s definitely been a misunderstanding.” He is laughing now, a dry, humorless chuckle.
“I’ll scream,” I said, my humiliation calcifying into white-hot anger. His smirk vanished. “I’ll tell everyone everything about you. About how you seduced a helpless young contestant.” I batted my eyelashes, showing him how easily I could turn it on when needed.
“You wouldn’t.” He was suddenly on top of me, pressing a palm against my mouth.
“You will not,” he’d whispered. His eyes were small and ugly. How had I ever thought they were beautiful? A hand went to the top of my arm. Squeezed hard. He was hurting me. I couldn’t breathe, and I started to panic. Everything I’d wanted for myself, I felt it disintegrating. The door had opened then, and Stella stumbled in.
Beautiful Stella trying to save me from myself, or whatever she thought she was doing. Her mouth opened in horror when she saw us there.
The interviewer crosses her legs. “And then you heard a scream?” I sit up taller, trying to outdo her with my confidence.
“Yes. It was Betsy Martin. We rushed down to the staircase, and she was there crouched in the foyer. She said she’d just found Archie outside. We didn’t realize then that she’d been, you know, the one to do it. Now we all know, of course, but she really convinced us it was an accident.”
Behind the interviewer, Stella nods, smiling at me encouragingly. She was the one who’d convinced me to do the interview. “It will be cathartic,” she’d said. “Plus, think of all the eyeballs.” I’m no longer jealous of Stella. It’s hard to be envious of people when you know all the things they’ve gone through. She’s more like a big sister to me now. I don’t know how I would have navigated New York when I first got there if she hadn’t taken me under her wing, let me stay with her. We’ve saved each other in a way.
“So you saw Archie… dead?” the interviewer asks.
I look down at my lap, making sure the cameras catch me struggling, showing them that remembering the scene is causing me great distress.
“I’m sorry, Hannah. I know this must be difficult for you.”
“It was. I will never unsee it.”
And that’s not a lie.
He’d leapt off me when Stella came in, trying to save his reputation, to pretend that nothing had happened.
“I don’t know what she’s doing here.” He’d chuckled and turned as though he were about to say something. Sweat was beaded on his brow.
“Oh, spare me your bullshit,” Stella said, stepping farther into the room. “I know exactly what’s going on.”
Archie’s face dropped as he looked from me to Stella. I could see the confusion in his eyes, his desperate attempt to calculate what he should do to save himself.
“You think you can just take whatever you want, don’t you?” Stellacontinued, her eyes flashing. “That you can destroy whatever life you choose. That you get to decide.”
Archie shrank back as Stella spoke, and I watched his power over me evaporate like a balloon deflating. I no longer loved Archie; I hated him.
“You bitch,” Archie growled. He lunged at Stella, catching her in the ribs and pushing her toward the back of the room, where the window still swung wide open was letting in torrents of rain.
I picked up a heavy ceramic vase off the mantel and swung it at him, hitting him hard above his left eye. He looked so surprised when he dabbed his face and his hand came back covered in blood. His eyes were so angry, so spiteful. All I’d ever done was admire him, love him, even. He’d betrayed me. He blinked, regaining his composure. Then lunged at Stella again, gripping her shoulders in his hands. I ran to them, prying his fingers from Stella’s arms, using all my strength to pull him off her. Together we drove him back, holding our ground. His balance was off and he staggered to the side, his knees buckling slightly as he struggled to stand. It didn’t take much to push him out the window. Stella was the one who gave him the final shove. He tipped right over the side, his shoe catching on the edge of the balcony before he disappeared.
“There are some who still don’t believe Betsy killed Archie,” the interviewer says, pulling in closer to me, as though I might have some bombshell to drop.
“Well, if you have any other information, please share with me first,” I say primly.
