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She grabs the suitcases and pulls the clothes from the closets. I text my coworker, telling him I need the apartment today. I apologize and say it’s an emergency.God, this is embarrassing.
“Open the fucking door, Saona.” David pounds on the door. “We’re going to talk this out and no one’s leaving.”
The heat sears my skin because he’s screaming and banging on stuff, which is how he always gets his way. Tantrums are his thing and not making scenes is mine. Not today and not ever again. “I’m packing my fucking clothes and I’m getting the fucking fuck out of here.”
There’s a long pause. He hates it when I swear. Because I’m his wife, not a street skank…like the kind he apparently likes to bang.
“We’ll see about that.” He kicks the door but it’s solid wood and doesn’t budge.
I’m so angry I could chew on glass.How dare he?
My sister pulls out her phone. “Should I call my people?”
Sierra’s people come from all walks of life. From hustlers to church regulars and all in between. One of her exes, Pedro, is a cop. She’s kept in touch with him and they’re good friends. Because my sister is one of those women that dumps men and they still stay around and do stuff for her whenever she calls. I never have the same luck. The newest exhibit is currently screaming outside the door about me being an inflexible bitch.
“Call Pedro.”
It takes Sierra’s ex, another cop car, and two hours to diffuse the situation. No one gets arrested but David’s mom has to come with his brother and sister to calm him down so he doesn’t get arrested. I tell them I don’t want to press charges, but I will if I’m forced to. His mom tells me we’re a family. That she loves me and we should work this out together. I ask her how her “niece” in the Dominican Republic is doing. Sierra and I laugh about how wide her eyes went while we drive away.
My day ends at nine in an empty apartment except for my clothes, a newly delivered sleep-number bed, the seventy-five-inch smart TV from my old place, groceries I bought at Garden Gourmet and my laptop.
“I can stay with you. We can get drunk and celebrate your new freedom. Edwin can be a single dad tonight.” Sierra went home to check on her kids and came right back to make sure I was okay. She brought me dinner and helped me clean the new place.
I’ve been struggling for the past hour, but I need to be alone. “No, your babies need you and I have to work tomorrow. I’m going to take a hot shower, maybe watch something on Netflix and sleep.”
Her I-don’t-believe-you look is fully pasted on her face, but she nods and hugs me so tightly she almost squeezes the tears out of me. The same tears I can barely contain when she says, “Love you. Call me if you need anything.”
The tears break free when I close the door. I shed them fast as I yank the clothes off my body, get in the shower and attack my skin with a washcloth. Each sob shakes my entire body and when I can cry no more, I’m left to dry heave.
I always prided myself in being drama free but look at me now. My soon-to-be ex-husband has been cheating on me since we met and we got into a domestic altercation where the cops had to be called. I filed for divorce and am alone in an empty apartment, crying while he’s chilling in my hard-earned comfort. I’m a walking Jerry Springer episode.
I wait for the emotion to subside. At least I’m crying it out and not in the emergency room, barely breathing. That’s a good thing, right? I take a deep breath to prove to myself how far I’ve come. I step out of the shower, shrug on my robe and head barefooted to the small kitchen.
Sierra brought me what she called the essentials. A bottle of my favorite rum, Oliver’s. I asked her for a couple of bottles of ginger beer, a bag of limes, and one of her kitchen knives. I mix myself a drink like the recipe on Google dictates. I put the TV on low. It’s on the far side of the room since I don’t have a stand for it but it’s huge, so I see all of it. David loved that TV, but I bought it and since he got to stay with all my pretty furniture, I get to have his pleasure baby. Thank God for Sierra’s friends and their trucks.
I sit in my bed and sip. My version of a Dark and Stormy came out pretty good. My phone flashes from the windowsill. I’ll need to go furniture shopping this weekend. I hop off to check it. I’ve been neglecting the world to clean this place.
There are twenty-five messages from David. That restraining order Pedro suggested is starting to sound really good. I ignore them and skim through the messages from work, missed calls from Mom, and just as I finish messaging my sister to stop worrying because I’m okay, an incoming text message chimes in.
It’s from one Jackson Alexander Hamilton.Hi. It’s your favorite bartender. Hope you made it home safely.
I suck in a breath and reply with a smiley face.I did, thanks. How are you?
He replies with only three words.Still smiling.You?
Having a Dark & Stormy.
He replies with a swearing face Emoji.You’re cheating on me with another bartender already?
Never. New drink to celebrate new beginnings in new place. I add a drink emoji and a winky face.
Congrats. He adds two clinking glasses Emoji.
Thanks, and U? What did you do all day?
The three dots appear on the screen indicating he’s typing. Then disappear only to appear again.
Hand to heart?
I frown not knowing what he’s going to say.Always.
The three dots appear again and the words right after.
Worked, sanded floors… fantasized about a hot girl with a sexy birthmark.
It happens fast, before I can question it, and I’m smiling.
