My parents were murdered swimming in our pool one night while I was bathing. Local authorities never found the culprit, and the case seems to slowly be losing interest in the city. I have made peace with their fate and have accepted it as a part of my story. My parents’ bodies were not left at the scene—just a swimming pool filled with water that resembled red wine, and for some reason, it comforts me…it’s as if I still feel them, lured by the aroma of their essence and memories. The pool hasn’t lost its color. Just when it seems to fade, I always wake up and look through the window to see deep-red water that floods my memory. It’s not a swimming pool anymore. I can’t help but feel it has a pulse. It has memories. Ceremonial waters filled with memories of lives that haunt me yet accompany me at the estate.
Tonight, I’m venturing away from the estate. A local attorney hosts a yearly ball where all of my parents’ old “friends” would gather to stick their noses in the air while stuffing their faces with hors d’oeuvres and expensive wines. Anytime these socialites came to my house, they were too busy trying to impress one another and my parents to even pay me any attention. I am sure I won’t be recognized. But I feel compelled to attend. I don’t know what lies ahead—my first encounter with them since my parent’s death.
Pouring a glass of a blend of reds, I slip on my favorite dress on display in my mom’s studio and take on the night.