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Thin Walls

Kristi Loobeek

    “You know you don’t love her.” That sultry accusing voice slid through the bathroom tiles and echoed off both the sink and my brain.
    Click, click, click, click- that skank’s stilettos vibrated through the floor and hummed on my feet. I could just see her as she made her way to his desk, leaning with both hands on the edge as to expose her Victoria’s Secret created cleavage and giving him that pretend sour, “oh how I hate you,” look I had come to expect as a greeting.
    “You know you don’t. I know you like your girls knowable, uh knowledgeable, but come on, she’s not even that pretty. You need a woman that can really handle a man, show him a thing or two.”
    Her wicked little British accent set my teeth on edge and like always reminded me to Google that town she said she came from to make sure it was legitimate place on Earth and not just a state of delusion. But, what a shameless attempt, honestly shameless. Brad had been so honest, admitting to my suspicions right away. She was nothing more than a desperate legal assistant, convinced that the best way for her to move up would be through seducing the lawyers. Poor Brad, he would have to crush this little viper’s enormous ego. I was going to enjoy this.
    “And I suppose you think that should be you.” His voice, once my temple of safety, shattered my confidence like a good slash to the wrists.
    “I think you already know how good I am at handling men, you didn’t seem to think my skills were inadequate at the company party.” WHORE!
    Realization sunk deep into my chest like a bottle of Draino right down my throat; skipping lunch suddenly became the best move I had made all day. Wounded, I slid down the wall to my knees and pressed my forehead onto the cold tile, feeling its grooves press my skin into shapes it never should try to be. All the words of comfort, denial and explanation he had fed me flashed through my thoughts like a strobe light, every flash carving deeper into my heart.
    The sound of his voice brought me back to the consciousness, my eyes stayed closed but my ears were unwilling to stop listening.
    “Well I don’t know... your demonstration was so short, with such little factual data I’m afraid I can’t make a commitment... unless that is, you have more examples your willing to bring to the table.”
    “Maybe not to the table, but I can give you one great example, right here, on this desk.”
    The click of the lock and rummaging turned into the only audible sounds. I could feel my heart, every beat it made, every thump, every rush of blood through my temples creating a searing pain. A dry heave broke my stupor and convinced me I had heard enough, forever. Grasping the sink I hoisted myself to my feet once again and stared at my reflection in the mirror. Five minutes and my world had turned around.
    It had been such a beautiful day, so beautiful. I had parked on the street, fed the meter a dollar in quarters simply for fifteen minutes. It was one thirty when I left the car, right when I knew he would be taking his lunch- perfect timing, perfect day. I locked the car and walked up the stairs to the firm, pausing once to admire the sweet smelling flowers planted outside, basking in the spring sunlight. It was right here, right on these steps where we had met one year, seven months, four days and eight hours ago; I was walking by, he was walking out, I dropped my bag and he picked it up for me, it every girls dream, an instant connection...pity. I suppose it was only fitting that it would end here as well.
    Up the stairs I entered the firm and was immediately greeted by the secretary, Cindy, a sweet elderly lady with a passion for pink clothes. Today she wore a pink paisley headband with a matching and equally fabulous pink belt. After a few civilities and a mutual agreement that the weather outside was indeed beautiful, we decided that she would not phone Brad to tell him I was here, I was going to surprise him. And so I made my little strut down the hallway to his office with the small green cursive writing on the door: Bradley J. Miller. Outside his door I held up my hand to knock, but paused. Directly across the hall were the restrooms, I slowly lowered my hand and decided to make some final primps.
    And now, five minutes later, here I was, in the same damn bathroom, broken. My reflection fascinated me in its hypocrisy. The new dress I had put on to surprise him at work, my hair I had taken forty five minutes to curl to perfection, my carefully applied makeup, all still intact except for one streak from my eye down my cheek: all these things stared back at me, like an alien, how could I look like this when inside I had been mutilated?
    Wiping the smear from my cheek I reached into my purse and grabbed a scrap piece of paper. How theatrical it could be for me to wait just a few minutes and then go barging in, guns blazing. But no, in the end that is one picture that I would never be able to erase, never forget, and so I would write instead. Insult after vicious insult ran through my mind but after some consideration I decided on the following.
    Bradleykins,
    Sorry I missed you today,
    Maybe I can make it up to you tonight,
    Perhaps I can teach you something...
    Can’t wait, Love, Marissa
    Oh I would teach him something alright. Hell knows no rage like a woman scorned, and let me tell you, hell couldn’t keep a bitch like me down. Once I was done I again searched through my purse, this time locating a pack of gum. Taking one piece out, I quickly chewed it and stuck it to the back of the note, what a gorgeous addition this would be to both his door and reputation. As I headed towards the bathroom door I felt a curious turn in my emotions. Oh I was still burning with anger, but I also couldn’t help but feel an excitement run through my veins. The thrill of a good fight, of smashing his flat screen and of course the thrill of being independent once again.
    “Yes, hello Cindy, please hold all my calls and appointments, Louise and I are on the verge of a breakthrough for the Thurson case... Yes, yes, it’s very exciting, yes I’m sure, no no, no buts, nope, gotta go, bye.”

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