sat ignored on the bed, only a sheet for protection, holding my bruised
shoulder as she lay on the floor askew, hugging one knee with the other leg
splayed out. Her skirt had risen up and I saw she wore a peach colored slip
which matched the color of the pumps she threw.
She stopped her whimpering sobbed, “You bastards”, looked up at me, her mascara streaked down her cheeks, a mess. I saw hate. I stared then at him, saw his sobbed, “I’m sorry”, love pleas. He loved her.
I’m abandoned. She hates me! He loves her! I’m nothing!
Throwing the false safety of the sheet aside I scampered out of bed, grabbed my clothes and purse, and ran out of the bedroom, dressed on the run down the spiral staircase, realized as my feet felt the cold cement garage floor I’d left my panty and the pearl necklace William had given me behind.
In the garage, hopping around, my blouse and skirt finally on, feet jammed into shoes, (thankfully flats), holding my, purse and bra I pushed the garage door opener. My desire for the safety of my car and escape numbed the shoulder pain. Sliding on the care seat I reflected.
Panty and necklace, don’t care, get out of here, just get out, go home, thank God I didn't take off hubby's earrings and bracelet. Necklace and panty, there’re his now, like she is. She can have him and them. Ha, I hope she wears them! Love to see that! She’s right he’s a bastard and the bastards’ all hers.
Roughly dressed, the car door closed and locked, I got the car key from my purse as the garage door chain clanked open.
As I turned the key to start the car I looked in the rear view mirror. I too was a mess with smeared lipstick, mascara streaked, matted hair. Looking beyond myself in the mirror I then realized her car was a Mercedes, it was beige color and it was in the driveway. It blocked my escape! I turned, crinkled my neck to and fro, and scanned from side to side.
There must be a
squeeze through! Oh no, no way, I’m trapped!
I turned off the motor and tried to calm myself with my head against the steering wheel, crying. I was stuck. She had to come down and move the car. I had to let her know. I tapped the horn and waited, I tapped again and then a honk and another honk. I opened the door and screamed.
"Get me out of here!"
There was no
response. I waited again, counted to 100. Then I lay down hard on the horn
until eventually he came, wearing a bathrobe but without shoes. He had her keys;
tippy toed to her car on the rough gravel, backed her car out of the way, he
didn’t look at me. I didn’t return his indifference. I pushed the window down
button, stuck my hand out and waved him the finger as I sped back out of the
driveway onto the safety of the frontage road while holding the horn down.
On the road home I screamed and cried until calmed to sniffles. I mentally started with the scream.
She's right, he's a bastard, and I'm a fucking whore.
Driving on, I belittled myself, over his leaving me to fend for myself as he chanted over her.
It's obvious she’s his love entrée, I'm only hors d'oeuvre, no, dessert, only desert. Ha, just cheap ice cream desert! Ha, I’m chocolate ice cream!