Authors: Casey Elliot
*****
"I got the part!" Scarlett squealed into the phone, her excitement infectious.
"My girl on Broadway!" Her mom exclaimed excitedly.
"Well, off-Broadway," Scarlett reminded her mom. She paced the roomy apartment she had been living in for the past seven weeks. Everywhere she looked, she saw Adrian and it hurt her to her core. All she wanted to do was save enough money to move and leave this part of her life behind her. "There's this big party tomorrow night for the cast. Oh mom, things are going great." Scarlett's life had improved dramatically over the past month. She let go of her old toxic friendships and had met genuine people in her drama class.
"I am so proud of you." Scarlett could hear the pride in her mom’s voice. Tears welled in her eyes that threatened to spill.
Will you and dad come out to see the show?" Her mom’s reply was drowned out by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Scarlett frowned. Who could that be? She certainly wasn't expecting anyone.
"Mom, can I ring you back, someone's at the door." Disconnecting from her mom, she picked up the apartment intercom.
"Hello?"
"Scarlett?" She would recognize that voice anywhere, Adrian. Her heart leapt in her chest. Opening the door, Adrian stood there, a single rose in his hand.
“Hi,” Scarlett said shyly. Adrian smiled and handed her the rose.
“Hi Scarlett.”
What on earth did he want now?
“Do you want to come in?” Scarlett said, stepping back from the doorframe, but Adrian shook his head, a smile on his lips. She could feel the rhythmic thud of her heart hammering away. Just seeing Adrian again was enough to make her lose all control.
“I came to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for pushing you away, for asking you to leave.” He started, his gaze capturing Scarlett’s. “I’ve never been so wrong about anything in my life before. I need you, not to lock me up at night or to be my companion during the day, I need
you,
Scarlett.” Scarlett could hear the conviction in his voice, as tears ran down her cheeks. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t need too. Scarlett stepped down beside him, cupping his cheeks in her hands. His skin felt so smooth, so warm and alive. Scarlett rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him like a woman ought to kiss the man that she loved. Wrapping his arm tightly around her waist, Adrian held her close to him and Scarlett knew that from this moment, she would never leave his side.
*****
“I just don’t understand why you won’t ever go out!” Stanley’s angry voice rattled against the ivory colored walls surrounding them. Her nose shot up from the book she was reading to look at him fully. She scrunched her face and focused on his sweaty, unsteady form; her expression revealing exactly what she was feeling: annoyance… pure annoyance.
He had just gotten home from another long night out with God-knows-who, doing God-knows-what, and he was in full-on asshole mode; just like he generally is when coming home from the bar. When her eyes had last fallen on him, just after he’d stumbled through the front door of their shared home, he was combing his fingers through his hair in the hallway mirror. He always did that after a long night of booze hounding, as well.
Just another childish tradition
, she thought, bitterly. His cockiness oozed out of every pore and orifice of his entire body… and then some.
It was as if he was checking over his outfit and hair — and face and probably everything else for that matter — for imperfections, hoping that he didn’t see any. However, by the night’s end, there were always
a lot
of imperfections. A sober Michelle could definitely see them… from a mile away.
The top of his hair was always askew and covered with sweat, sticking straight up rather than back and to the side like he normally wore it. His clothes were also wrinkled, and he smelled of cigarette smoke. He was a mess, as far as she was concerned, but a drunken man, fueled with an ego bigger than the size of the sun never could see those sorts of imperfections. To him, he still looked like the hottest of hot studs.
“Calm down, Stanley…” she groaned, noticing that he was still staring in the mirror at himself. If she was being honest with herself, she was getting sick of the constant bickering, and she knew that it was about to turn into just that. Every time he came home, there was some sort of stupid tantrum, and it was starting to get on her last nerve. It was always the same thing… every single Friday night, and every Thursday and Saturday night too for that matter.
“I’m not going to calm down!” he shot, tossing his arms up in the air. “It’s like you always have a stick up your ass, Michelle!”
She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t so much she had a stick up her ass, as it was that she was actually starting to get out of the whole party-scene.
“I told you why, Stanley…”, she mumbled under her breath before glancing back down at her book.
“Yeah, yeah…” he growled. She could feel his head whirl away from the TV and his eyes fall on her. “Clinicals... fucking clinicals; you’re always all work and no play and I’m getting sick of the excuses!”
It wasn’t an excuse though. It was her fucking reality. Welcome to the world of Michelle, she thought, almost bitterly.
She really was busy all the time, and she knew that it bothered him. She knew that he was frustrated, but what he never could grasp was that she was frustrated too.
It wasn’t just the fact that she didn’t like always being the stick in the mud, always trapped behind a book, studying or busy with clinicals. It was also the fact that he never seemed to just grow up.
The fights had been going on for months now, and they were getting worse and worse by the day. It seemed like their relationship was on a downward slide, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was even worth staying in anymore.
She wondered if she’d changed too much or if he hadn’t changed
enough
. It was as if he was exactly still where he was when they first started dating.
She glanced at the clock just over his shoulder. It was late; really late just like it normally was when he finally found his way back home after a night of drinking, but this was earlier than usual.
It was only 1:30 A.M.
He hadn’t gone out until 10:30 P.M., so to Michelle, him only being out for three hours was a miracle. He usually didn’t roll in until it was almost time for her to wake up, and that was the biggest thing.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy fun. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to cut loose every now and again — not as much as Stanley wanted to cut loose — but it was almost her bed time when he wanted to leave and she had to get up at the ass crack of dawn the next day to start her day.
She sighed a deep and exasperated sigh and slid off the couch, her book in tow. “I’m going to bed. I have to get up early in the morning.”
“You didn’t have to wait up for me!” he snapped. “I mean you’re an old grandma, so go to bed!”
She rolled her eyes and looked passed him. She was afraid if she did, she might say something she would regret, and truthfully, she didn’t want to start another fight. It was already pretty easy to tell that drunken Stanley wanted nothing more than for that to happen and she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted; not this late at night, not now.
“Good night, babe…”, she sighed, still not looking at him. Part of her code as a human being was never go to bed on a bad last word and, as much as he drove her insane, she did care about him… for some reason.
With one more sigh, she tucked her book beneath her arm and turned around to the couch to gather up her laptop, which had been sitting beside her like the trusty sidekick it was.
The aluminum back of her Mac was cool to the touch, as she grabbed it and pulled it up and beneath her armpit to meet the book she’d been reading.
“Good-fucking-night,” he growled, after a longer pause than she had expected. She honestly thought he was going to remain silent in her descent toward the bedroom. She hoped for it; at least, but of course, his drunken tongue wouldn’t allow it.
She rolled her eyes and whirled around, and when she did, she met his gaze; his deep, angered gaze. So angry that she couldn’t help but to look, actually look at him this time and follow his stare, which was deep into her eyes.
It would have been sweet, had the expression on his face been kind and compassionate; the way he used to look at her. But, the look in the depths of his eyes as they looked into hers was not a look of serenity. Not even a little.
It was a chilling stare; cold, heartless.
“Jesus, what is wrong with you?” She couldn’t help but to whimper. It almost made her sick how upset she sounded over the situation, especially because she knew that was exactly what he wanted.
“I’m sick of telling you what’s wrong with me. It’s always the same shit!” That was all he said before turning on his heel and storming off in a heated march down the hall, away from the living room.
She didn’t know what he was doing. If she was being honest with herself, she really didn’t want to pay attention to what he was doing because whatever it was, it was drunken douchebag Stanley — someone she had seen far too much of recently — doing it.
“Jesus Christ…” she moaned before tossing her head back dramatically and walking slowly, cautiously even, toward the bedroom.
She heard him in the bathroom, just through their bedroom as she approached the threshold, and didn’t even bother announcing her presence. She was ready to go to bed.
Without any sort of delay, she placed her laptop and book on the bed and pulled back the covers. She wasn’t even going to bother with brushing his teeth, not if he was in the bathroom.
A sigh of contentment expelled from her lips, as she sat down on the bed. Her body ached from the day, and her head was still pounding from all the hours of reading. She was more than ready to lie down.
Reaching her hand to her shoulder, she gave a nice, firm squeeze and craned her neck to the side. “Ugh….” she grumbled, tugging and massaging as she rolled her shoulders; anything to remove just
some
of the kinks that had formed throughout the grueling day.
She exhaled, letting the thoughts of the day leave her — even the rattling sound coming from the bathroom just next to her — and leaned back, letting her body become surrounded by the fluffiness of their pillow-top mattress, covered in Egyptian Cotton sheets. She hadn’t even changed out of her scrubs from her clinicals earlier that day, but she didn’t care. They were comfortable enough to be pajamas anyway.
It wasn’t even an entire moment after she had laid down and pulled the covers over her before Stanley’s thunderous feet stormed out of the bathroom and directly into the bedroom.
“Get out!” he growled, causing her eyes that had been closed to shoot open.
She didn’t even have the energy to fight back nor did she really care enough to fight back. So, instead of saying a word, she rolled her eyes and walked out, her eyes glued to the floor, refusing to look anywhere near his direction.
He was definitely going to have a lot of explaining to do the next morning.
She was just too drained to do anything about it at that point. She just wanted to get some sleep, and the couch seemed like a fine enough place for that at the moment.
“I’ll be on the couch…” she whispered, as she gathered up her stuff. She didn’t want to leave them behind in case he decided to get even more idiotic and break or tear something. Besides, she had to get up a lot earlier than he did, and she knew that he would be pissed if she woke him up to get her stuff.
She only heard an angered muttering sound from behind her instead of any real response, so she paid no attention to it. Instead, she just continued forward; her laptop and book tucked under her arm once again.
She got two steps down the hall before she heard the loud noises sounding from behind her...
Drawers.
Not just drawers though. The sounds were the unmistakable sounds of drawers being slammed, and it was followed by shuffling feet. She stopped dead in her tracks before turning back on her heel and peeking through the door.
He looked like he was just finishing up packing a suit case. “What are you doing?” she asked, groaning and annoyed by his dramatics. Only, he didn’t reply. He just zipped the suitcase and walked out of the room, down the hall, and completely bypassing her.
She followed after his heated movements and watched his every step.
“Where are you going?” she asked, as she hurriedly matched his steps. She wanted to stop him before he went out the door in full-blown idiot mode.
“I’m not going anywhere!” His head remained glued to the front, refusing to look back at her, as he approached the door, twisted the knob, and yanked it open. “You are!” His words sounded more like hissing, as he gritted his teeth and threw the suitcase full of what she could only gather
now
to be
her
stuff. “Get the fuck out! I’m sick of this!”
Her head pounded and her breath left her. She felt as if someone had just whacked her over the head with something blunt and heavy; it was almost too much to wrap her head around. Three years... three fucking years! Was he really throwing her out after three years?
Was all that time just wasted?
“This relationship is over!” he screamed, as if to confirm all of her worst fears as he whirled around to face her. “Done!, Over!, Finished!, Stick a fork in it!, Get the fuck out!”
The expression behind his eyes was enough to make her heart shatter like glass dropped onto a cement block. She was heartbroken to see him so uncaring; so heartless.
She stood there completely dumbfounded. Was it really over?
She wasn’t the type to beg. She looked at him for a second longer, feeling a tear burn the brim of her eyelid and pulling with all its might to fall. She steeled herself with everything she had, refusing to cry. She couldn’t let the tears fall. She couldn’t give him the satisfaction.
She couldn’t believe it. To say that she was pissed that he was throwing her out was probably the understatement of the century, but at the same time, she didn’t have any rights to the house. Stanley had the job; the really good job, actually. He had agreed to pay the rent in order to facilitate a brighter future together, so the place wasn’t even hers. It was his; all his.
She knew that, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t burn just the same as she went inside and gathered her things. She couldn’t even look at him when she went back outside onto the porch. She just kept her head straight and her belongings held tightly. With only her clothes, the laptop tucked underneath her arm, and her car keys, she stepped down the two steps at the front of the porch. She really didn’t know what the hell it was that she was going to do. She was a student. She was broke; more than broke, actually. Hell, she was pretty sure her bank account only had about twenty dollars in it. That wasn’t even enough for one night in a trash motel.
So, where the hell was she going to go?
It was two o’clock in the morning.