After Olivia

14

A piece of white tissue blotted Emily's lips, taking a little of the shine off the soft pink as she prepared for a night out. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and tucked the black lace bra strap under the shoulder of her dress. She felt sexy and confident as she moved from the ensuite to the bed and sat on the edge to slip on a pair of heels. A clutch to match the shoes and outfit finished the preparations. She analyzed the look; black 4 inch heals, nude tone stockings clinging to the curve of her shapely legs disappearing midthigh under the hem of a tight black dress with an open back and low neckline. She slipped off the shoes to make the walk down the stairs a little easier.

The sound of a key turning in the lock of the front door was followed by the familiar voice of Roger's mother calling out as she made her way into the house. Emily paused for a moment halfway down the stairs as Roger slipped past. She listened for a moment as he welcomed his mother, and realized their plans for dinner and dancing were being traded for another Friday evening with his parents. She looked up towards the bedroom, contemplating her options.

Emily proceeded down the stairs as Roger's father walked through the door with two pizza boxes in hand. She felt the boxes press against her stomach, rudely handed off as she glared at Roger. Her silent expression of disappointment was answered with a blank look. The option she had chosen, to tell her in-laws-to-be about their plans and ask them to leave, would have required a willing accomplice. Roger seemed content to toss away the plans to celebrate her promotion and plan their future, to watch a movie or pay per view fight with his parents.

"A couple slices of the Hawaiian for me, honey," Roger said as his mother returned from the kitchen with three beers in her hands.

"Anchovies and pineapple isn't Hawaiian," Emily muttered under her breath.

"Emily, dear, what on Earth are you wearing? You look like a cheap prostitute," Roger's mother said as she handed her husband a bottle of beer. "Roger, you let her go to work looking like that?"

"We w—"

"She looks fine to me," Roger's father replied with a grin as his eyes scanned her body. "I might just come out of retirement. I'd be your boss!"

Emily looked to Roger for some reaction, some support. Anything. Instead, he gave a what can I do? shrug of his shoulders then reached for the TV remote and said, "Actually, dad, she got a promotion. She'd be your boss now, if you can believe it!"

The aging prude and gawking old pervert noticed the sleek and revealing outfit she wore, but the intended audience busily flipped through channels with the TV remote as if she weren't in the room. But there she was, and there he was. Saying "there they were" might imply a togetherness that did not exist. Eighteen inches of pizzas stacked two high, and couple feet of hardwood and sofa physically separated Emily and Roger; in all other aspects they couldn't be farther apart. No one had ever made her feel so insignificant, so disposable.

Emily carried the pizzas into the kitchen with the high heeled shoes dangling from her fingers under the greasy boxes. She tuned out the requests for her to serve up dinner and to change her clothing for something a bit more appropriate for having guests. Her nose detected the smell of anchovies and feta oozing from the boxes, or perhaps she just knew the toppings she despised would be on both pies. She placed the food on the counter, closed her eyes and suppressed the desire to scream and cry. With a twist and a tug, she pulled the engagement ring from her finger then studied it for a moment. She contemplated its meaning and what it should represent. The gold band with its empty center seemed symbolic of a past filled with hollow promises.

Roger's voice called to her from the other side of the wall, "Em, bring the chili flakes and parm. Don't forget the napkins!"

She quietly took her purse and coat from a hook near the back door and slipped out of the house. Her departure unnoticed.