“They say when people get anxious before a date… their body reacts.” I watched his eyes dart, trying to find an explanation that fit the chaos.
He shouted, “I CAN’T STAND HERE TALKING!” and bolted toward the stairs.
“Oh, and one more thing,” I said, voice soft, “don’t use the upstairs bathroom.”
He stopped halfway up, his brow furrowed. “Why not?!”
I smiled, the kind of smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Because I’m cleaning it.”
He turned, a look of panic on his face, and sprinted up the staircase. The bathroom door slammed shut with a force that made the whole house shudder.
A moment later, a series of loud, dramatic noises echoed through the hallway—splashes, a muffled gasp, the sound of something hitting the tile. I stood there, my heart thudding, the absurdity of the scene sinking in.
I sighed, a breath that seemed to carry the weight of everything that had built up over the past months. Then I pulled out my phone, unlocking the group chat with my friends.
“Girls, are we still meeting for drinks tonight?” I typed, my thumb hovering over the send button.
Three seconds later, a flood of replies lit up the screen.
“Absolutely!”
“We’ve been waiting!”
“Tonight we celebrate freedom!”
I touched up my lipstick in the mirror, the red a bold slash against the pale morning light. I grabbed my keys, my purse, and the last shards of my pride, tucking them into my bag.
Just as I reached the front door, his voice boomed from upstairs, “WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”
I smiled, the same practiced line. “To a meeting.”
I paused, letting the words linger. “A very… important meeting.”
Then I opened the door, stepping out into the cool air, the world feeling suddenly larger, the street humming with ordinary traffic.
Escape
The drive to the bar was a blur of red lights and honking horns. I pulled into the parking lot of the downtown lounge, the neon sign buzzing above the entrance. Inside, the chatter of my friends was a warm, familiar hum.
We clinked glasses, the ice clinking against the crystal, and I felt the tension in my shoulders ease, if only a little. The night stretched out, drinks flowing, laughter spilling into the corners of the room.
“To freedom,” I toasted, the word tasting sweet on my tongue.
We talked about work, about the weather, about the ridiculousness of dating apps. My mind kept drifting back, though, to the sound of the bathroom door slamming, to the echo of his panic.
At one point, my friend Maya leaned in, her eyes bright. “You look different, Jess. Like you finally decided to take control.”
I smiled, a thin line, and said, “Maybe I finally did.”
The night wore on, the lights dimming, the crowd thinning. I left the bar with a sense of triumph, the night air crisp against my skin. I walked back to my car, my heels clicking on the pavement, each step a reminder that I was moving forward.
When I finally pulled into the driveway, the house was dark, the windows blackened like empty eyes. I turned the key, the lock clicking, and stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee lingering faintly in the hallway.
