Sure, it was due to the fact that I was planning to enter the house I once shared with the love of my life, in order to find evidence regarding the missing files and I might run the risk of encountering that beastly woman he called Penelope, but I still felt it. The idea of finding incriminating evidence or, cherish the thought, the files themselves gently sprawled across the cedar desk I had bought Alex last Christmas clouded my mind as the steam from my shower clouded the bathroom. I'm going to nail your ass to the wall, Alex. You and that fat bitch. Going to make her cry like her cankles make my poor Jimmy Choo Anouks cry, I thought.
As I slipped, as much as you can slip, into my favorite power suit and a pair of Manolo Blahniks, I saw the time. If I'm going to try to get an appetizer rummage in, I better get going. I rushed down the hall and as I began to bound down the stairs an odd feeling washed over me to take them slowly. Reaching the bottom, I picked up speed and headed for the door, grabbing my keys in one swift motion. I was almost to the door when TruPaul poked her weave out of the kitchen. "Girl, you know I don't think you should--" I interrupted. "Yeah, yeah. 'Stalking is bad and girl this and honey that.' Don't have time for it, this morning," and I slammed the door behind me.
Speeding towards Luna Avenue, the excitement I had felt in the shower began to turn into knots in the pit of my stomach. What am I doing? Am I really going to break into the home of the man that I once planned to have my baby with? It was one of those last second feelings you always get before you're about to do something new, or a little bit crazy. This was my skydiving experience, my swim with the sharks. You have to do it, I convinced myself. He's taken away your home life; you can't let him destroy your work life, too.
The drive was second nature. Before I had finished talking myself into my first B&E, I was there, parked across the street from the house that a million monasteries couldn't replace. It looked so beautiful. A tear began to stream down my cheek and I quickly wiped it away. It's his fault you're even in this situation. Get in there and find what you're looking for and soon it won't be his house, either. Yeah, I thought, after I find the files and prove that he stole from my company, I'll take him to court and neither he nor that inflated whore will ever set foot in my house again! But I knew it wouldn't matter. Even if they were both gone, we wouldn't be together and it wouldn't matter to whom the house belonged.
It was when I uttered the words "Even if they were both gone" that I realized that they were both, in face, gone. I couldn't believe my luck! I looked at the digital clock in the car and did some quick math. I would have roughly 30 minutes to snoop and still have time to make it to the office, and my meetings, on time. Double checking the figures in my head, I opened the door of my Audi and coolly strolled up the walkway.
It was early, almost too early. I wonder where the hell they are. Penelope didn't seem like the early riser type, I thought. No one else in the neighborhood was stirring, yet they were both gone. It didn't make a lot of sense. I did my best to put this out of my mind and delicately removed the hide-a-key from its resting place in the rock garden that I had constructed for the simple purpose of disguising the key's container. "What's the point if you have to build a rock garden to hide the rock that hides the key!?" This was Alex's first thought when I told him the idea. To my credit, no one had ever found the key or broken into our house. Well, not until today. I unlocked the door.
I placed the hide-a-key back in the garden, closed and locked the door behind me. A wave of emotion crashed on top of me as I looked upon the interior. Cocksucker that he may be, Alex had barely changed anything. This was still our home. The paintings that we bought on our trip to Milan, the lamp from our vacation in Switzerland, the grandfather clock from that little shop in Paris. The one that I saw and fell in love with. The one I said I couldn't live without. The one that I found waiting for me when we arrived home later that month. He told me that he loved me. Now I wonder if he ever meant it. I snapped myself out of it. I knew if I let the feeling take hold of me, I would never leave and they would come home to find me weeping on top of the ungodly comfortable sheets on the "too extravagant" bed that we purchased in Germany. I gave myself a get-it-together smack and took to playing detective.
I went right to the desk. In my head I had seen the files strewn across its top, just waiting for me. Unfortunately, I found that the true Alex, well, true as a dream can be, was a tad less frivolous with his stolen documents. Pulling out the drawers on the desk, I caught glimpse of a new photo, one of him and Quasimodo smiling in some generic park. Generic like her. How I hated her. How I wanted to break the frame over her generic head and stab her with the glass. Jesus Christ, Stella, I thought. Let's calm it down a little bit, huh? Something bizarre pulled me away from this thought. I pulled again. The bottom drawer was locked. "Oh, I've got you now," I said in my best detective voice.
I canvassed the office for something that might be used to pry open the lock. After finding nothing, I hurried to the kitchen for a knife. What the hell, Alex? Who doesn't have a pair of scissors in their damn office? As I made my way through my...their kitchen, I fought the urge to look in the fridge. The elephant's probably got six tubs of Ben & Jerry's in there, I thought. But I wasn't here to ridicule. That would come later. I opened the utensil drawer and pulled out a butter knife. That knife had been a member of a set that was a gift from one of G.M.'s first investors. Part of me was pained that I had to essentially destroy such an exquisite piece of craftsmanship. The other part of me realized that this was a minor sacrifice. Besides, I thought, it's a butter knife, not a damn cow.
As if beckoned forth by the word, the door knob shook and I heard her voice. "I can't believe you forgot your wallet, honey! I'm glad we didn't get too far away before you realized!" Oh, shit! I dropped the knife. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! I scrambled back through the house and unlocked the door carefully. I heard footsteps heading towards me, and, as if being forced out by an unknown wave, I re-locked the doorknob and exited home. My whole being told me to run, to get in my Audi and floor it to work. And I wanted to so badly. I knew I was already late, but something in me wouldn't let me leave. Not yet.
"We're going to be late for my appointment, baby! The doctor needs to check on my progress! Everything has to be perfect. The baby has to be perfect." If her voice wasn't enough to do the job, the subject of her words ate away at me like a corrosive acid. "I know, I know, honey. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. I never forget my wallet. It won't happen again. I know things have to be perfect. They are. Just like you. I love you." I heard them kiss. The sound was putrid to my ears. I couldn't take it. The rage boiled over inside me like the milk Alex left on the stove the time he tried to cook and almost burnt the house down.
The tears began to roll down my cheeks and before they became overwhelming I made my way back to the car. Using the Kleenex in my purse to dry my eye I thought about what had transpired. The files had to be in that bottom drawer. Why else would he lock it? I contemplated waiting in my car until they left and then returning to finish the deed. But I knew that was impossible. It would take at least twenty minutes to get to the office and I was already late. I would have to have my meeting and finish my work and come back. I hoped that he would take her out for some fancy dinner or something. I hated to wish for that, but I knew I need a circumstance like that if I was ever going to get back into his house, tonight. Maybe she'll choke while they're out and the waiter won't be able to get his arms around her fat gut to give her the Heimlich. The thought put a smile on my face, and as it did I started the ignition.
It was still early and the roads were clear apart from a few of my brethren in lateness. After driving the thirty miles in what felt like ten minutes, I whipped the car into my spot in front of the building. During the whole drive I had been thinking of Alex and Penelope and how close I was to them, this morning. They never had a clue! Come on, Alex. That girl? Really? What could you possibly see in her? She certainly isn't the sharpest knife in the draw-- Then it hit me. I left the butter knife on the floor. Fuck.
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