"I'll text you when he's better." She whispered. "Probably an hour, two max." I opened the door. The hallway air was cool.
"Take all the time you need." I said, and I meant it. I closed the door. I heard the lock click. I walked down the hallway, took the elevator to the garage, and got into my car.
I didn't scream. I didn't hit the steering wheel. I checked my GPS for the nearest hotel that wasn't a total dump. I was homeless, technically, but as I pulled out of the garage, I didn't feel lost. I felt free.
I drove 20 minutes to a business hotel near the interstate. It wasn't a luxury resort. It was one of those standard beige places designed for traveling salesman. It smelled like industrial lemon cleaner and air conditioning. But, as I walked into the room and threw my bag on the bed, it felt like a sanctuary.
I ordered a burger from room service. I took a long, hot shower without worrying about using up the hot water because Elena wanted to take a bath later. I turned on the TV and watched an action movie, loud, without being told to turn it down because Greg had sent a voice note she needed to analyze. For the first time in 2 years, I wasn't walking on eggshells. I wasn't managing someone else's emotional climate.
I wasn't the supporting character in the melodrama of Elena and Greg. I checked my watch. 8:30 p.m. It had been 2 hours. The hour or so she asked for had come and gone. I checked my phone.
No texts. No, are you okay? No, thanks for doing this. Silence. It was funny.
A part of me, the old part, the part that wanted to fix everything, waited for the apology text. I waited for her to realize how insane her request was. But, the longer the silence stretched, the more the realization calcified in my gut. She wasn't worried about where I was because she didn't care. As long as I wasn't in the apartment interrupting Greg's monologue, I didn't exist.
At 10:15 p.m., nearly 4 hours after I walked out, my phone finally lit up. Elena calling. I let it ring three times. I took a bite of my burger. I wiped my mouth with a napkin.
Then, I answered. I didn't say hello. I just pressed the green button and held the phone to my ear. "Hey." Her voice was bright, almost chirpy.
The background was quiet. "Where are you? I texted you like 20 minutes ago." "I didn't see it." I said.
My voice sounded different to my own ears. Deeper, detached. "Oh, well, Greg just left." She said, as casually as if she were telling me the mail had arrived. "He's feeling a lot better.
He really just needed to cry it out, you know? He's such a sensitive soul. He absorbs so much negativity from the world. But, I got him calmed down." "That's great."
I said, flat. "Yeah. Anyway, are you close? The fridge is empty. Can you pick up Thai food on your way back?