Chapter 2
It was four a.m. when the front door swung open.
The bedroom lights flicked on with a sharp click.
Alex stood in the doorway, reeking of booze.
He had a plastic bag dangling from his hand.
He kicked aside the slippers on the floor and shot me a glance as I lay in bed.
"Why's it so dark in here?" Alex complained.
He walked over and tossed the plastic bag onto the nightstand.
Some of the soup splashed out and stained the bedspread.
"Chicken noodle soup. Get up and eat it while it's hot," Alex said, not bothering to look at me.
I didn't move.
I silently stared at him.
He loosened his tie and frowned.
"How come there's no hot water in the kettle? What the hell have you been doing at home all day?" Alex snapped.
"I've got a fever," I said.
He paused for a second, then raised his voice.
"Really? You're giving me attitude over a mild fever?"
"Everyone gets sick. When I had appendicitis, I toughed it out on my own."
If he hadn't brought that up, maybe I could've let it slide.
But now that he did, all I could do was laugh.
For those three days, I was stuck at his bedside, cleaning him up and dealing with his bedpan.
Every time the pain hit, he'd clutch my arm.
By the end of it, my arm was black and blue.
"I'm exhausted," I said.
I rolled over and turned my back to him.
Back then I would have heated the soup up in the microwave with tears in my eyes.
And I'd pour him a glass of honey water to help him sober up.
But today, I just couldn't muster the energy to do anything.
Alex paused for a few seconds.
"So, you've got an attitude now, huh?"
"Drop off that gray suit at the dry cleaner tomorrow. I need it for my meeting," Alex ordered.
Without another word, he turned and headed straight for the guest room.
Even with two doors between us, I could hear Alex answer a voice call.
He sneered, "She's just spoiled.
"You gotta leave women hanging. The longer you ignore them, the more obedient they get.
"Just watch. Tomorrow morning she'll be serving breakfast right to my bedside."
It was seven the next morning.
I got up on time.
I didn't make breakfast.
Alex was still snoring away in the guest room.
I washed up and changed into clothes for going out.
I grabbed my phone and shot a message to my boss asking for time off.
I used up every vacation day I had left.
He approved it almost instantly.
I walked into the living room, picked up the phone, and called the secondhand pickup service.
Half an hour later, two guys from the secondhand pickup crew showed up at my door.
"Brand new, the fridge was four thousand dollars, the dryer three thousand, and the robot vacuum seven hundred," one of them rattled off.
After a quick inspection, he named his price.
"Six thousand for everything. Take it or leave it," he said.
I nodded.
"Take it all away now," I said.
The money hit my account on my phone.
The noise from moving everything around was pretty loud, and the guest room door swung open.
Alex shuffled out in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.
"What are you doing up so early?" he grumbled.
He glanced over at the kitchen.
"Where's the fridge?" he asked.
"The cooling unit broke, so I had someone haul it off for repairs," I said.
My tone stayed level.
He didn't give it another thought and headed straight for the dining table.
"So, where's breakfast?" Alex demanded.
"I'm still running a fever. Order yourself some takeout," I said.
Alex's face darkened.
He said, "Lily, don't push it.
"How long are you going to sulk about the soup? I'm not eating takeout, so go cook me some pasta."
I did not answer him, and I walked over to the closet.
I took out the gray suit he had asked me to get cleaned.
"I'll take the suit out and deal with it on my way," I said.
Alex's face softened a bit.
"And make sure you grab the striped tie, not the wrong one," he added.
"Got it," I replied.
I stuffed the suit into a big trash bag.
Ten minutes later, I dropped the bag into the old clothes bin.
That suit was a custom piece I had someone bring back from overseas last year.
It cost eight thousand dollars.
That wiped out my whole month's bonus.
He complained it was too tight and only wore it twice.
I told him I'd get it altered.
"Forget it, it's not even worth fussing over. Just let it sit there," Alex shrugged.
*****
That afternoon, I went to the real estate agency office.
We bought this place on the cheap, way out in the suburbs.
It was close to his office.
But for me, it meant a two-hour subway commute every single day just to get to work.
I asked the real estate agent what the asking price was for this neighborhood.
The agent just kept shaking his head.
"Hey, you maxed out your mortgage to buy that big apartment in the suburbs for 1.7 million dollars, and now it has dropped to barely over 700 thousand dollars, and you can't even give it away," he said.
I nodded and walked out of the agency.
Alex always acted like owning a house made him some kind of big shot.
He never realized that the place he loved to brag about was worth less than what he still owed on it.
When I got home that evening, Alex was already at the office.
There was a sloppy note tossed on the coffee table.
[My friends are coming over for dinner tonight. Buy extra seafood. If you don't have enough cash, put it on your credit card.]
His handwriting was careless.
That was how he saw me.
I was always at his beck and call, doing everything for him, no questions asked.
And I was a free ATM he could tap into whenever he felt like it.