Chapter 4 - The Eviction
I walked back into the living room, my bare feet avoiding the shards of ceramic. I walked past Ethan and picked up his phone from the coffee table. I didn't look at his messages anymore. I opened his banking app.
"What are you doing?" Ethan asked, his voice shaking.
"Since I manage the finances," I said, transferring the exact half of our joint checking and savings accounts into my private account, "I am ensuring an equitable division of liquid assets before you inevitably try to freeze the accounts tomorrow morning."
I pressed confirm. The transfer went through.
I tossed the phone onto the couch. It landed with a soft thud.
"The lease on this apartment is entirely in my name, Ethan," I said, crossing my arms over my silk robe. "My credit, my deposit. You have thirty minutes to pack whatever you need for the weekend. The rest of your belongings will be shipped to Vanessa’s apartment on Monday."
"You can't kick me out!" Ethan protested, his face flushing red with a sudden, helpless rage. "It's pouring rain outside! It's eleven o'clock at night!"
"You're right," I said smoothly. "It is raining. Which is why it's incredibly convenient that your mistress drove here to pick you up. You don't even have to call an Uber."
I turned to Vanessa. She was standing by the door, clutching her purse, looking at Ethan with a mixture of horror and realization. She had wanted the fantasy of a stolen romance. She hadn't wanted the reality of a disgraced, homeless man standing in a towel, being thrown out of his own life.
"Take him, Vanessa," I said to her, my voice laced with absolute, freezing finality. "He's all yours. The lies, the cowardice, the dirty laundry. You won the prize. Now get him out of my house."
"Clare, please," Ethan begged, his voice cracking. He dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor, the towel slipping slightly. He looked pathetic. Smaller than I had ever seen him. "I have nowhere to go. I can't go to her place, her roommate is there. Please, let me sleep on the couch. We can talk about this in the morning."
"If you are not out of this apartment in thirty minutes," I said, walking toward my bedroom door, "I am calling the police and having you removed for trespassing. And I will make sure the officers know exactly why you are being evicted."
I stepped into the bedroom and locked the door behind me.
Through the thick wood, I could hear them arguing. Muffled shouts. Vanessa crying. Ethan cursing. The sound of drawers opening and slamming shut. The rustle of a duffel bag being frantically packed.
I did not cry.
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I sat on the edge of the bed we had shared for five years, staring at the wall, listening to the agonizing, ugly sounds of my old life dying in the hallway.
Twenty-eight minutes later, the front door opened, and slammed shut.
