My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) by Rene Gutteridge Page A

practically hiding in the garden!”
    â€œI was strolling. ”
    â€œI just thought the class might help you. I saw it advertised in the paper.”
    â€œYou don’t even know what this class is!” Edward took a step back. I was a little stunned myself. “It’s for criminals!”
    â€œThat’s not what the coupon said.”
    â€œThey send everyone over to this class when the anger management class is full!” I willed myself to calm down or face the prospect of another coupon.
    â€œI called about it, Leah. She said nothing about criminals. The lady was very nice. She just said that it helps people learn to deal with conflict the right way.” Edward spoke like we were discussing a dinner menu. Why was he so calm?
    â€œYou never intended on coming?”
    â€œI didn’t realize I gave that impression.”
    â€œThis is humiliating.”
    He gently took my shoulders into his hands. “Leah, this was just meant to help you. That’s all.”
    â€œI called you at six and you weren’t home. Where were you?”
    â€œI stopped to help an old lady who was in a car accident.”
    I turned and tried to catch my breath. Was he telling the truth? Little old lady stories are about as easy to concoct as organ transplant stories.
    â€œI didn’t think it would be this big of a deal,” Edward finally said, exhaustion in his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Did you get the flowers?”
    I turned and watched him lower himself back onto his couch. He seemed sincere. And he really did look tired. His bloodshot eyes glowed against his shadowy face. Surely this could’ve waited until morning.
    â€œI’ve got a big presentation tomorrow,” he said, punctuated by a large yawn.
    â€œI’m sorry,” I replied, shaking my wet head. I folded the towel and went to drape it across the tub in the bathroom. When I came back, Edward was standing again, facing the hallway to his bedroom as if counting down the seconds to when he could crawl back into bed. I was feeling tired too.
    â€œLook, if the class is that horrible, don’t go. It doesn’t matter, okay?” He took a step down the hallway.
    I nodded and walked to the door.
    â€œI’ll call you tomorrow,” he said, his voice distant as he turned into his bedroom.
    The elevator dinged open as soon as I punched the button, and the descending ride embodied the spiral down which I felt myself sliding. Stiffening my lower eyelids to hold in the tears, I dragged myself three blocks to my car, not caring that I was already too wet to worry that I was being drenched.
    It was a hard thing to shake. Edward thought I needed help with conflict. This was just another sign that this relationship was not what it should be.
    It was nearly ten by the time I got to my apartment building. Puddles of water trailed behind me in the hallway. I pulled off one sock and tried to wipe them up as I walked to the elevator. I didn’t need to be responsible for someone falling and breaking their neck tonight. Though that would be how I would expect this day to end.
    Thankful for the carpeting in the elevator, I went quickly to my apartment and turned the key to unlock the door, except the bolt didn’t click. The door was already unlocked. I pulled my key out, trying to remember whether I’d locked it before leaving for the class. I couldn’t deny I’d been flustered.
    My thoughts suddenly turned to every serial-killer movie I’d ever seen. But then I laughed at myself. Was this what Edward was talking about? Did I overreact to simple things like my door being unlocked?
    Gripping the key in my hand, I pretended to continue to laugh and turned the knob. I left in a tizzy. Of course, I’d forgotten to lock the door. Naturally. I shoved the door inward and stared at my dark apartment, a smile pasted on as I eyed the dark, shadowy corners of the room.
    I started in, making