Page 20
Author: Priscilla West
I found a cab and got in. Minutes later I was at my apartment. I gave the driver a twenty dollar bill and didn’t wait for the change. Vision still blurry with tears, I unlocked my apartment door and stepped inside. The place was empty; Riley must’ve already left with her girlfriends. I briefly entertained the idea of joining them but thought better of it. Being around people wasn’t what I needed right now. For now, I just wanted to be alone in my bed to cry.
My phone had been vibrating in my purse the whole cab ride home. I didn’t dare look at it. Vincent surely had some brilliant excuse for that message, but I didn’t even want to hear his voice right now. As I replayed our relationship in my head, I couldn’t believe how foolish I had been. Of course a risk-taking billionaire like him wouldn’t want to be locked down with someone like me. I was too safe, too boring to satisfy his needs. Sure, sometimes he wanted someone safe to come home to, but that would never be enough.
He would always want more.
My phone buzzed again. Annoyed, I pulled it out of my clutch. Sure, enough, it was Vincent. He had called ten times and sent two text messages. I didn’t read them before I hit the phone’s power button. Maybe I never would. I could have Riley turn on my phone and delete them for me.
A fresh wave of nausea and tears overtook me. I lay down on my bed and cried as hard as I ever had. Each sob shook my body so hard it was painful. At times it was hard to catch my breath, but still it kept coming. I just couldn’t believe he had done that. How could he? Right when I had finally opened myself up, he had stabbed me square in the back and twisted the knife for good measure.
Dimly I heard a pounding at the door. He’d followed me home. I sat up and looked at the makeup smudging my pillow. Great, another piece of laundry.
I probably looked like a raccoon. Even so, I couldn’t have him pounding on that door forever. My neighbors would file a noise complaint against me. I went to the door.
“Go away,” I yelled. “I can’t even look at you right now. ”
The pounding stopped for a second, then became a knock. I was surprised he hadn’t yelled back. Typical Vincent, to have a measured response at a time like this. Where previously I had admired the way he could control himself, now I was thinking he might be some kind of robot.
Maybe he would go away if I just screamed at him to his face. I opened the door, and was greeted by a man that wasn’t Vincent.
My head felt like a helium balloon. The blue eyes behind the man’s rimless glasses sparked with an angry intensity I’d thought I’d left behind.
It was Marty.
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