Page 386 of Sin City Baby

I shook my head. “Uh, no. I was expecting to be alone. Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” I asked him.

“I had a break in between clients so I thought I’d stop by and surprise you. Looks like I accomplished that. So where were you?” he asked again.

“I went to go see my brother,” I said.

“No, you didn’t,” Ike said. “Try again.”

I stared at him, wondering just for a minute if he had somehow seen me on the porch with a half-naked Grant. “Yes, I did. I went to my brother’s house to return some dishes.”

“Then why are you dressed up?”

“I’m not. I’m wearing jeans and a shirt for Christ sake.”

“And makeup?”

“What’s wrong with me wearing makeup? I wear makeup every damn day.”

“For me, yes. For work, yes. Not for gallivanting around in public. And why is your shirt so low-cut?”

Annoyed, I put my hand on my hip and stuck my chin out defiantly. “Because I like it that way,” I said.

“Well, I don’t. It makes you look like you're looking for attention.”

“For fuck sake, you’re being ridiculous,” I said, growing angrier by the minute.

“Where were you?” he asked again. “I know you. I’ve known you since we were kids. You don’t get dressed up unless you have a reason.”

“I am not ‘dressed up’. I just went to return some stuff to my brother,” I said again, slowly so he would hear me this time.

Despite my efforts to hold them at bay, tears rose to my eyes. I was tired of the fighting, the accusations, the insinuations; but more than that, I was tired of Ike trying to control me. He hadn’t been like this in the first few years of our relationship, but as of late, he was getting worse and worse by the day. And I was about done with it.

“You wouldn’t dress like this to go see Hollis,” Ike said.

“I’m not dressed like anything! I am wearing jeans and a fucking shirt. I’m not in a miniskirt, or a halter top, or a goddamn bikini. You are being ridiculous,” I said, my voice rising with each word.

Ike stepped forward and put a finger in my face. “I don’t know who you think you’re fooling, but it sure as fuck isn’t me.”

I threw my hands in the air in exasperation. “I’m done, Ike. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know why things changed or when exactly, but I’m not some property of yours to be managed. I’m your girlfriend. And if you can’t treat me with the respect I deserve, then I don’t want you around anymore.”

Ike’s eyes narrowed, and his fists balled at his sides. “You think you can do better than me? With that big ass and those fat thighs?” he spat.

I took an involuntary step backward, and my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. Never in all the time that we had been together had Ike ever commented negatively on my shape. He’d always told me he loved my curves.

My eyes were finally fully open, and I was seeing him for the manipulative asshole he really was. I could see now, that he was not the boy I’d grown to love. He was a miserable, selfish son of a bitch, and I wasn’t going to put up with him anymore.

“Get out,” I said.

; “Gladly. I don’t even know what I’m doing with you anymore anyway. I don’t even love you anymore,” he said with a sneer.

“Get out!” I roared.

Ike grabbed his keys and walked out of my apartment. I was shaking with anger, but still, I felt free. It was easier to breathe, and the silence was comforting. Ike and I were financially intertwined, and I wasn't sure what I was going to do about that. I would have to find a cheaper place, closer to work, and disentangle my life from his once and for all.

But even as the tears flowed, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

I was finally free.