Ugly(59)

“I-I wouldn’t m-mind someone as b-b-b-beautiful as you s-st-stalking me.” He chuckles again and I laugh with him. But I only laugh because he’s being gracious in not shaming me. Clearly, he’s just saying those words to be kind, nothing more.

“Can I help you find anything?” I say, changing the subject. Not some silly ‘let’s feel sorry for the stupid, ugly girl’ conversation. No one in the world can think I’m anything special. Only Trent loves me. He always tells me how much he loves me, especially after he’s been angry at me.

“N-no, ju-just saw you and I thought I’d say h-hi.” He smiles at me, and then adds, “Hi.”

I feel like an idiot, foolishly thinking he may need anything from me. “Lily,” my boss and the second in charge, Dale, calls me.

“I have to go. Nice seeing you, Max.”

“Y-you too, Lily.” He turns and walks toward the back of the store and I go to Dale who’s standing beside the staffroom door.

“Dale, we’re getting slammed today,” I say when I reach him.

“We are, and it’ll be busier tomorrow seeing as it’s the day before Thanksgiving. Have you checked staff and made sure we have enough on?”

“I have. Gone over it a few times, and I’ll be here in case we need an extra set of hands, too.”

“Great. Um…on a personal note, how are you feeling?”

Automatically the humiliation returns. “I’m really good. Couldn’t be better.”

“Excellent! If you need anything, let me know.” He leaves and returns to his office and I go back out on the floor.

The rest of my shift passes in a blur, and before I know it, it’s after five-thirty, which means Trent will already be waiting at home for his dinner. I grab my bag and my cardigan and run out the front doors toward the bus stop. I know he’s going to be angry and I’m going to have to make it up to him.

The bus seems to be going slower than usual in every sense of the word. The weather’s changed drastically and the nights are getting colder and longer. The moment I get off at my stop I run as fast as I can to get home.

I put the key in the door, and the door flies open. Trent scowls at me. The anger in his eyes tells me to not say a word. The way his chest heaves, angrily pumping air into his lungs, is an absolute guarantee of my silence.

“You’re fucking late and I’m hungry. Where were you? Are you having an affair?”

“No, Trent.” I profusely shake my head. “Work was busy. It’s two days before Thanksgiving and everyone is coming in.”

“Liar,” he yells at me and gives me a backhanded slap. I fall toward the left and tumble into the entry wall. He hits my ear making a high pitched ringing sound through my head. “Where the hell were you? Were you with another man? Who the hell is he?”

“No, really no. I was at work. And the bus was slow. Please, Trent. I only love you.”

“You’re lying to me!” He pulls me up like a rag doll by my shoulders and slams my back into the wall I fell into. “Who the hell is he, Lily? I’m going to kill him for touching what’s mine, then I’m going to kill you for lying to me.” His face is beet red and as he screams in my face, small thin strands of spittle fly out of his mouth. I can smell the distinct sweet aroma of whisky on his breath.

“Call Dale, he’ll tell you. We’ve been busy, really busy. It was like last year, remember?” He pushes me against the wall and steps back putting some space between us. He turns his back to me, and runs his hands through his hair before bringing them to wash over his face. Trent then goes and sits on our old sofa. “You make me crazy, Lily. Damn crazy.”

“I’m so sorry. I should have messaged you or called you. I didn’t think. I just wanted to get home so I can make your dinner. It just completely escaped me. I’m really sorry.”

“You could’ve just avoided me getting angry if you would’ve called. It is your fault, it’s all your fault.” He pauses and picks the remote up to the TV. “Make me some dinner, I’ve had to wait for you to get your fat ass home and I’m starving.”

“I’ll do it right now.” I go to the kitchen and start making dinner. It takes just over half an hour but I have his steak and his sides. “Dinner’s ready,” I call from the kitchen as I finish setting the table and place his meal down.

Trent strolls in and sits at the head of the table. He looks at the food and raises his eyebrows at it. Clearly, he’s not happy with his steak and sides. “What’s this crap?” he asks as he sits back in his chair and crosses his arms in front of his chest.