I turned. Sophia was looking at me, a shy, almost blushing expression on her face.
“Erika, I was just looking around, and I absolutely adore your room… the master suite. It’s so lovely. Do you think… could I have it?”
Her words hung in the air. Both Jack and Tim swiveled their heads to look at me, their eyes filled with a silent warning. It was clear:
if I protested, they would pounce.
But… throwing a fit was simply not in my nature.
“Okay,” I said. “It’s yours.”
A flash of triumph, sharp and provocative, lit up Sophia’s face. “Oh, thank you, Erika! I knew you wouldn’t mind. Could you possibly
help me with my things? My self–care skills are a bit weak, and Jack always says you’re so good at hous
a help.”
It would be such
The thinly veiled insult was impossible to miss. It was a direct jab, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of genuine annoyance.
Without a word, I walked over and took her suitcase.
And then I kicked it, hard. It went flying, tumbling down the short flight of stairs with a series of sickening thuds.
The smug smile was still on Sophia’s face when the final crash echoed through the hall.
“Erika, what the hell are you doing?!” Jack was on me in an instant, his voice a furious roar. “If you didn’t want to help, you could
have just said so! Why would you kick her luggage?”
Seeing Jack leap to her defense, Sophia’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Jack, it’s not that I want to make a fuss,” she sobb-
ed, “but… the porcelain inside… it was a piece I’ve been working on for a year…”
She knelt and opened the battered suitcase. Inside, a ceramic vase lay in a thousand pieces.
Jack couldn’t stand to see his beloved cry. He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring comforting words. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll
make her apologize. She’ll pay for it.”
A simple ceramic pot, of course, wasn’t worth much. But Jack wasn’t about to let it go. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron.
“Erika. Apologize.”
! shook
my head, a flicker of satisfaction in my aching heart.
“Don’t make me say it again. Apologize!”
“Miss Kartalian,” Sophia whimpered, her eyes misty and pathetic, “if you’re angry with me, that’s fine. But please, don’t take it out on
my art. I…”
“No apology,” I said, my voice steady. “You deserved it.”
I was simply stating a fact. Who in their right mind packs fragile porcelain in a suitcase for a move, instead of, say, clothes?
“Erika! If you don’t apologize right now, we are getting a divorce! You can get the hell out of this house today!”
I had expected a wave of sorrow to crash over me.
But, surprisingly, my heart remained calm, my breathing even.
“Okay.”
I wrenched my arm free and marched to the bedroom, quickly packing a small bag.
“If you walk out that door,” Jack yelled after me, “don’t you ever come back!”
nodded.
