There was a voice in Bernadette’s head. She’d first heard it on Saturday, when it uttered those fateful nine words:

“A peanut butter and jelly sandwich would be nice.”

Bernadette knew what it meant that she heard a voice in her head. But the voice was right. It was past one o’clock, and she hadn’t eaten any lunch yet. Shrugging, she went to the kitchen and made herself a sandwich.

“Shower curtain’s mildewed. Better buy a new one.” It was Sunday afternoon, and Bernadette was lying on the couch, reading the Books section of the New York Times. She didn’t really feel like getting up, but she realized the voice was correct – that curtain was getting unsanitary. So off to K-Mart she went, and home with a new shower curtain.

Her blind date the following evening was off to a boring start. He took her to a grungy Moroccan restaurant where a trio of portly men played sitars or balalaikas or something and the waitress spilled wine on Bernadette’s sleeve. The small talk was faltering, although the guy was quite attractive. “Remember that belly-dancing class?” the voice prodded. So far, the voice hadn’t steered her wrong. Bernadette knocked back the rest of her wine and got up to dance.

Later that evening, the voice reminded her to use a condom. She did, too.

The voice continued to give her a daily nudge for the next couple months. Always something useful, never anything outrageous:

“Aunt Linda’s birthday’s coming up. She might appreciate a hand-knit sweater.” “The new Coen Brothers movie looks interesting.” “When’s the last time you bleached the bathtub?”

The voice was safe and comfortable and a welcome presence in her life.

One night, Bernadette stayed late at the office to finish a report. Her boss stayed to help. Her boss was a kind woman, a single mother with two kids, who did her best to be a fair and decent employer.

When the report was finished, and Bernadette and her boss were alone in the elevator, the voice said:

“If you strangle her with that long scarf of hers, you could have her job by next week.”

Bernadette blinked. What a horrible idea! She felt surprised and betrayed. She’d come to trust the voice in her head, but it seemed she had been wrong.

“No, not really. Just checking,” the voice said in response to her thoughts. “Lately, it seems like you don’t question anything.”

“Question this,” Bernadette said aloud, and held up her middle finger.

Her boss cocked her head. “Excuse me?”

“Oh. Heh, heh. Nothing. Good night, Mrs. Ayling.”

“Good night.” Her boss stood in the lobby a moment, watching Bernadette leave. Maybe Bernadette had been working too hard.

“You should have strangled her with that long scarf of yours while you had the chance,” said the voice in her head.

Copyright 2006 Amy Frushour Kelly. All rights reserved.

Reproduction by any means prohibited without prior written consent.