for Mr. Donahue this morning, all the way from Dallas. I could o’ sworn he said the lady of the house signed for it. Like I said, I must be getting too old for this job.”
I turn away from Percy and face the elevator doors. I don’t want him to see the distress his news has caused me. Tim’s been so good, so loving lately that I was starting to wonder if maybe I was just inventing things to be suspicious about. Even with the bells growing louder and more persistent all week, I hoped… The doors open and I walk unsteadily inside, wiping my sweaty palms on the fabric of my dress. I punch the button to our floor and as I rise my heartbeat thuds wildly in my ears. Nine, Ten, Eleven…
My belly jumps as the doors open. I don’t want to step forward. I want to go back to the Bath Shop and pretend like everything’s fine. I want to get married and live in a little cottage and have three kids with my black hair and Tim’s blue eyes. I want to be happy. The doors begin to close and I dash through them. The hallway seems impossibly long and it takes forever to reach our door.
My hands are shaking so badly, my first attempt to insert the key into the lock fails and I have to try again. The soft click of the deadbolt sounds more like the hammer of a gun as I turn the door handle. I close my eyes and push it open. At first, all I can hear is the earsplitting ringing of those damn psychic bells, but then, “Who’s your daddy, baby? Huh? Who’s your daddy?”
Shit. Maybe I should start that hotline after all.
Tim’s facing my direction but neither he nor Suzy, our neighbor from 2E who’s currently bent over the arm of our tobacco colored leather sofa, notice me at first. I think they’re both too engrossed in watching her fake boobs roll around like two Chinese stress balls. I steal myself and walk toward them, waiting for him to see me. “What the hell, Tim? We haven’t even scotch-guarded that yet.”
Tim’s head snaps back and his shock causes him to pull Suzy’s hair a little too tightly, eliciting a cry of pain from her and an instant stop in motion from him. “Ellie, what are you doing here? I mean, wait….shit, this isn’t what it looks like.”
Tim is in full fight or flight mode. Scavenging for his clothes and hopping from foot to foot, he makes a desperate effort to cover his rapidly shrinking bits. His lack of composure gives me a moment to stare down at Suzy who, unlike Tim, is making no attempt to cover up her nakedness as she stands to face me.
“What?” she asks. “Jealous?”
I swallow hard and will the pain off my face and out of my voice. “The boobs are a little too big for me, but I’d like to know where you get waxed. Is that a heart?”
“A butterfly,” she says.
I look around Suzy to stare down at Tim who’s managed to shove one leg inside a pair of suit pants. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me unravel in the middle of our chic living room. “You’re a pig. And what’s worse, you’re a cliché.”
“Ellie, wait! Let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” I say, choking on the words. I turn on my heels and flee as fast as I can, humiliation clawing at me from the inside out. I need to get out of there. Need to get away from Tim, away from the psychic ‘I told you so’ voice, and away from the ruins of my happily ever after.
“Ellie, stop!”
Tim hurries after me, cinching the belt around his now fully-clad waist. He comes to stand between me and the elevator doors which remain closed despite my repeated jabs to the down arrow. Stupid elevator, why do we have to live on the 11th floor? I spin to face him and completely lose it. I can’t stop the tears from falling as I reach out and swing my new Coach handbag at his lying, cheating face.
“You lying, cheating bastard!” Thump. “How could you do this to me?” Whack. “Why her?” Smack. “How could you do that in our apartment?” Tim is ready for me this time and dodges my last well-aimed handbag swing.
“Listen to me!” he yells, grabbing me by the upper arms to hold me steady. He