Page 22 of My So-Called Perfect Life
You’re a strong woman. You don’t need Scott. You can move on and build a life that is even better than the one you had planned with him.
I go through my after-shower routine, finding several small bruises along my hips and inner thighs from all the fun I had last night, toss on some comfy clothes, and head for the remaining boxes that need unpacking.
My main priority of the day is getting my apartment back to its’ rightful order. There’re two stacks of boxes in the corner of my living room calling my name. At least two of them are the contents of my bookshelf so I start there.
I love the smell of old books. It brings me a sense of calm and comfort. I inhale deeply as I open the first box. I pick up my copy ofPride and Prejudiceand flip the pages before placing it on the top shelf. I pull out a few more and start arranging them in alphabetical order. The whole first shelf is filled with Jane Austen and Charlotte Brontë. I’m a lover of all books but something about the romantic classics appeals to me more than suspense and thrillers.
Just as I slipPersuasionnext toSense and Sensibilitymy phone rings out into the quiet. It scares the crap out of me and my elbow knocks into a small stack of books on the shelf sending them to the ground. One lands right on my toe.
“Ow, shit!”
My ringtone blares as I bend over to pick up the books and my phone. I grab the George Elliot book, then scoop up my phone. I flip it over and see Scott’s name and photo flash on the screen.
As though it’s contaminated with a deadly toxin, I drop the phone instantly. I want nothing to do with that man. I don’t want him in my life, in my apartment, or even in my ear on the phone. Scott brings me nothing but hurt and pain. I’m not answering the call. The phone can stay on the floor and ring until the battery runs out. I will not speak to him.
“Danielle!” It’s as if I can hear him yelling my name, taunting me, in my head.
Jesus, Danielle.Get it together.
My toe throbs and glows red.
Ugh, that’s going to bruise.
Scott’s voice still echoes in my head.
Christ, am I losing my mind?
“Danielle? What the hell? Hello?”
Glancing down, I see that Scott’s yelling isn’t in my head but coming from the phone. Our call is connected. The phone must have hit a corner of a book when it fell and accepted the call.God damnit!
“Danielle! I know you’re there. Stop playing games!”
Do I talk to him? Just hang up? Shit! What do I do?
Sweat breaks out across my forehead as the pounding in my head comes back faintly—just waiting in the wings to rear its ugly head again.
He screams my name once more. I need to do something. I can’t just keep staring at the phone praying it will disappear.
I bend over and pick it up. “What do you want, Scott?”
There’s a ton of noise in the background. I can hear someone making an announcement about a flight’s gate change. “You canceled the fucking flights? You’re a bitch!”
Oh, this is rich.
I erupt in an evil cackle. “You told me you were going to take your whore onourhoneymoon, and you thought I’d just be okay with that?” I laugh harder. “You really went to the airport thinking you and Mandy were going to get on our flight and takeourvacation? You’re a fucking idiot Scott.”
What did I ever see in this man? How did I think that the sun rose and set with him?
“You didn’t want to work it out Danielle,” he shouts into the phone. “I wanted to fix this, and you didn’t, so what does it matter if I take Mandy away?”
“There’s nothing to work out.”Has he always been this stupid?“And, what does it matter? You cost my parents tens of thousands of dollars. All of my savings was spent on this wedding. You are not taking Mandy away on my dime! You want to take her away, use your money.”
“My parents and I lost money on this wedding, Danielle,” he argues. “This was my trip too.”
I hang up on him. There’s no way I’m going to listen to him play the victim. He fucking cheated on me! He and his parents lost money too? Bullshit. They lost nothing compared to what we did. Scott’s parents paid for the rehearsal dinner, that’s it. We went the old school route where the bride’s parent foot the bill. That’s just how my father is. If he were so worried about his parents’ investment, maybe he should have kept his dick in his pants.
Fuck you Scott!
