Everything That Matters

Chapter 7

I wiped the sweat off my forehead, relieved to see the last box securely taped. It had to be done, after all. It's not as if I had a choice. Fishing out the bottle of Evian from my purse, I gulped nearly half the water in five seconds flat. 

As I waited for Jerry to come up and help me with all the boxes and suitcases, I couldn't resist glancing around the room one last time. It certainly had been lavish while it lasted. I sensed a sinking feeling spread over me as I hungrily took in the huge white couch, the steely blue curtains which were drawn back to reveal dramatic, floor-length french windows and the crystal vases which stood artistically at various corners. While the apartment and all that decorated it had been funded by Amor'e, the selection and the shopping had been entirely done by me. Each and every object that graced the room had a story associated with it. Moving into the Manhattan apartment had been a major milestone. Therefore, obviously, the last week of packing had been absolutely hellish. I was particularly sad about departing with the watercolors I had bought in Rome from a charming, handsome man who had said all the right things that had jinxed me into buying them. To top it all off, I had been forced to sell my beloved car to a friend of Richard's back home. In fact, he was picking the car up tomorrow morning itself. It was my most priced possession as it was something that I had managed to buy after saving up right from the beginning, and it definitely was fancy, but I needed the money. Desperate times did call for desperate measures. While I did have some savings that would keep me afloat for a few months, I had been too busy indulging myself for the last year or two to give things like financial security or saving some serious thought. Or any thought, for that matter.

The last forty eight hours had been the worst form of torture I had ever gone through. There had been the disastrous press conference I had been forced to have and I had to announce that I was moving back home to 'relax for a bit and take a much deserved break'. But the journalists didn't fall for it at all and went on to pester me with questions anyway. The task of dealing with the Brad mess had been the most painful one, though. I had been on the verge of flinging my red stiletto at a particularly nasty journalist when he asked me outright if I was pregnant with Brad's child, but Kate had thankfully succeeded in stopping me. Oh, and then there had been the business with my darling Agent Kate. We hadn't exactly parted on the best terms, because even as I handed over her last cheque after the conference, she had once again suggested, for about the thousandth time, that I reconsider the Brad situation. Her words had been my undoing after a stressful afternoon and some bitter words had followed. Even as I thought about it now, I shuddered.

Too exhausted to stand, I perched on the edge of the closest carton, clutching my knees for balance. I stayed that way, feeling oddly comfortable. The pinging of the elevator had me looking up, and I spotted Jerry walking in through the open door. I gave him the brightest smile I could muster. He honestly had always been sweet to me, and I was thankful that I had  had a friendly face to greet me every time I returned back from work. It would have been too lonely otherwise.

"Ma'am? Are you ready to go?" Jerry frowned.

I shook my head, snapping back to reality, and said, "Yup. Let's go." I stood up and started pushing the suitcase closest to me towards the elevator.

After two elevator trips and ten minutes of sweating, pushing and grunting, all my stuff was finally loaded into the back of my convertible. I turned to Jerry and thanked him one last time before getting into the driver's seat. As I pulled onto the road, I switched on the radio and slapped on my sunglasses, preparing myself for the gloomiest drive of my life.

It was seven in the evening by the time I pulled into Jane's driveway, glad that the drive was over. I was awkwardly cramped, tired and shabby. I got out of the car and stretched my arms, the action making me sigh with pleasure. I started walking up the stairs, my boots predictably squeaking on the mushy snow. I was hyper aware of my messy ponytail and the crumpled yellow T-shirt underneath my coat, but I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I could smell the delicious aroma of roast chicken wafting from the house and my stomach growled in response instantly. I realised that I had eaten nothing after the lousy bagel for breakfast this morning and I was starving. I rang the doorbell, silently blessing Jane for deciding to cook tonight.