She shifted herself on the couch. She glanced around her living room. Her sweater was on the carpet, along with several used tissues and...his belts. Not wanting to be reminded of him, she covered the leather belt with a blanket. With nothing to do, she turned on the TV. It was a replay of a Valentines’ episode from yesterday. Click. An advertisement of a flower provider. Click. A Lindor commercial. With another click, she turned off the TV. Frustrated, she fluffed her pillow and tried to fall asleep. Ding dong...ding dong...her doorbell rang. Covering her ears with her pillow, she rolled around and tried to ignore the sound. Then, she heard the door creek and open. She grasped on the pillow, listening attentively, wishing it was an illusion. Then, she heard footsteps coming her way. Grabbing a vase, she hid behind the living room door. The stained-glass door opened with a creak. She breathed heavily, gathered enough courage to lift her arm and prepared to hit the man with the vase. Then, the man stopped and exclaimed, “It’s me.”
Her body eased and her breathing regulated itself, but her face was just as red. She glared at him, and said, “What are you doing here. I thought I made it clear to you last night. Get out!” She tried to push him toward the front door. Her efforts were in vain, for she was petit, and him, muscular and bulky.
He grabbed her arms, “What did I do wrong? My sister was in an accident! I explained it all on the note. It’s not all about you, Kaith.”
“Then, get out of my house!” Kaith raged, “You know how long I waited yesterday? How everyone stared at me in the restaurant when the waiter told me to leave because I was taking up space? You could have at least called me at night to tell me that.”
“I sent you flowers and a note. I wanted to drive over here but I was too tired. I spent nine hours...”
Kaith interrupted him, “What note? What flower?” She kneeled over and picked up his black belt. Her furry produced a surge of strength. As the belt hit his face harshly, she said, “Don’t lie to me. Brad, just leave me. Leave my life.” Expecting him to leave, she stepped to her sofa and sat down. Brad’s eyes sparked, like lit matches. His face turned into the colour of the flame, and his fist tightened.
Suppressing his anger, he expressed in a surprisingly calm voice, “I may be a bad fiancé, but I’m not a liar.” He dug into his jacket pocket. Some coins fell out. He found a piece of crumpled piece of paper he was looking for and uncrumpled it as well as he could. “The receipt.”
Giving her the receipt, he turned around, held his belt and staggered to the door.
She glanced at it, her eyes softened. She whispered, “Don’t go...I’m sorry...” As she sniffed, tears overflowed her eyes. Kaith ran to him, grabbing on him tightly.
Brad pivoted and put her arms around her. Gently, he pulled her away, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can always do this. How will our relationship work out if you don’t trust me?”
She moved a strand of his dark hair to behind his ears and lightly touched the red stripe left on his face by the belt. Softly, she uttered, “I don’t know. But I do know that I would never want to be without you. I am really sorry, just, forgive me please.”
He pulled her in closer, he said, “I love you.”
“I love you too.”