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I started moving again. He made no motion to get out of the way. Somewhere behind me, I thought I heard his asshole girlfriend chuckle again. Finally I sighed, letting my arms fall to my sides.
“Fine, what?”
“You need to move out.”
I swallowed hard, trying to fight the bile threating to rise up in my throat.
“Are we really going to do this here?” I asked. “Right now, in front of your—”
“Fiance’.”
The word hung there in the silence of the kitchen, causing my eyebrows to knit together. Chastity had said it, and for one or two seconds it was completely foreign to me. Like the word held no meaning.
“What did you say?” I turned to face her.
“Fiance’,” she said again, more firmly and snottily than before. She held up one bony hand and wriggled her fingers. I saw a gold ring with a tiny diamond glitter in the overhead fluorescents.
Holy shit…
“Y—You’re getting married?” I swore, whirling on Garrett.
“Eventually,” he said. “Yes. And Chastity’s moving in. Right away, in fact. Which is why—”
“Which is why you, honey,” she finished for him, “need to get the hell out!”
I wanted to speak. I really did. I wanted to say a thousand things, and all of them terrible.
Most of all I wanted to beat my fists against Garrett’s chest, or drive one of them through Chastity’s homely, pockmarked face. But that wasn’t me. I just wasn’t that type of girl.
Too bad.
“Listen, I’ve asked you a bunch of times,” Garrett said placatingly. “You always change the subject. You always—”
“That’s because it’s my house too!” I screamed. “You don’t just get it! You don’t just—”
“There’s no equity,” he said. “There’s no value. It’s just a house, Claud. That’s all it is. That’s all it ever was.
My head spun. My mind screamed at me to do something! But somewhere in my chest, deep down in my heart, a hard truth finally emerged.
He’s right.
The anger drained from me. The frustration didn’t.
“Fine,” I yelled. “You want me out? I’m out.”
I took a step toward the door, then stopped short. On a whim I whirled again, grabbed the mug from Chastity’s hand, and hurled it against the wall.
The both of them cringed as it shattered into a million pieces.
“I’m out,” I said again, this time to her. “You can have him. But you don’t get my favorite coffee mug.”
She looked shocked and surprised. Garrett too. Before either of them could recover, I grabbed the coffee maker, dumped its contents to the floor, and pulled the plug from the wall.
“And you don’t get my coffee maker either!”
I stormed out, trying to maintain what was left of my dignity. Only there was no dignity left. I’d give it up a year ago, when I’d agreed to stay in the house rather than be forced to find another place.
Not anymore, the little voice in my head assured me. Not anymore.
