Kapitel 3: CHAPTER TWO
She had let out a loud sigh before stepping down from her Porsche. She had bought the portable vehicle on her 21st birthday. That was five years ago and she was still as beautiful as the day Emily had set eyes on her.
She made a face before turning the knob and stepping into the apartment trying everything possible to let the exhilaration of the auction's success overshadow the fact that she had envisioned the evening's triumph with Brad,her boyfriend of two years.
Entering the living room, Brad sat on the couch,eyes fixed on his phone,his expression a mixture of annoyance and indifference.
"Hey" Emily said, trying to sound casual despite the growing unease.
She received a grunt for a response.
She was heading for the bedroom when he had asked perhaps the dumbest question in all of English.
"Where the fuck have you been?"
She seemed to freeze,and very slowly clenched her first. Her back to him.
"It's half past nine Emily and can you answer me when I'm fucking talking to you" his tone gradually elevating to a yell.
She turned to him "I had an event Brad" her anger rising "Ethan's art show? Yeah the same one I told you about last night. Yeah it was today and it was amazing thanks for asking."
A look of realization could be seen in his brows but it was quickly dismissed. Brad's apathy was palpable. "That's no excuse for coming home his late Emily. I don't give a fuck what you were doing with Ethan"
Emily was almost marvelled at his unrepentant behavior. Almost because she had seen it coming. "This Event was important to me and you knew it. You know the money, blood,and sweat I put into this to make it work and here you are coming up to my face with a mouth full of crap saying you don't give a fuck about what I worked so hard for. You were supposed to be there." Hot tears stinged the back of her eyes .
"I had a long day at work okay. It slipped my mind."
Emily's voice rose. "A long day at work? That's what you can come up with? I fucking told you about this show last night. You knew how much this show meant to me. This isn't the first time you've missed something important to me."
"And when have you ever turned up for me huh? You think everything revolves around you,your career,and your life? Some of us have other things going on. It's time you just stopped being so selfish."
Her eyes blazed"selfish?. Brad I'm selfish? Seriously? Is this what we're doing now? Because last time I checked I was the one who wanted to share every moment of tonight with you."
"And who are you to choose the moments I wish to share?" He spat
There was a tension filled pause
"Look at me I'm Emily Denvers and I'm a big time Hollywood event planner and my boyfriend Brad works for this low wage insurance company so I get to be the boss and he has to be part of whatever goes on in my life" His mimic was pathetic and so was he. She didn't fail to point that out.
"You're pathetic Brad. It's not my fault you're not satisfied with what you've acquired " her eyes squinted.
Brad stood"yeah it's not your fault Emily. You know what I think I've just had enough of you and your trying to prove your better and your suffocating need for independence. I'm done."
Emily laughed dryly "you're breaking up with me cause I'm independent?"
Brad nodded"congratulations you might be the first to get broken up with for that sorta reason. I just need to be with someone who actually needs me in their life not someone who wants me so they can have the happiness they need."
Emily's anger boiled over "Get out!! Get the fuck out of my face and get the fuck out of my house!"
Brad chuckled"your house... sure...I'm leaving...I'll come get my stuff in he morning." He picked up his phone and his wallet "don't call me" he said and left.
The audacity she thought. But she had stood there alone in her apartment. Fifteen minutes had gone by. He wasn't coming back. Emotions in their most complex form raging inside of her. Very slowly she walked to the door and locked it. Her eyes fell upon the pack of Rothmans on the coffee table.
She didn't cry that night. Not yet at least. She just sat in the living room draped in her disheveled evening gown and a cigar in between her fingers and an enveloping deafening silence to keep her company.
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
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