Devonne Brown

“I don’t understand. Why do you think I don’t see you? You’re sitting right in front of me. You look lovely tonight,” Max told Emily in a hushed tone. He didn’t want to make a scene. He was afraid the waiter or the couple in the booth next to them might hear. 

“It’s not about what I look like, you compliment me all the time. I seem to be a trophy for you. You don’t listen to me. You don’t hear me. You go about your business, your life, and drag me along for the ride. You expect me to make things happen for you,” Emily came across as petulant and whiny. 

Max furrowed his brow and cut his steak. It was rare and bloody, the way he liked it. Emily wondered if the chef hadn’t cut a piece out of the cow’s neck, threw it on a grill to mark it up, and tossed it on Max’s plate. The blood was thick and runny. Max used it as a gravy for his potatoes. Emily wretched and vomited in her mouth a little bit. She looked away. 

Their earlier conversation had been one sided as usual. “Where would you like to go for dinner? It’s Friday night, I want to take you someplace special,” Max had told her over the phone. 

Emily’s heart had skipped the familiar beat and she’d answered with the hopeful, “I want to go to the new Japanese restaurant. I hear their sushi is to die for.” Max stifled a laugh and a snort. 

“I’ve not heard anything about it. Where is it?” he’d asked skeptically.

She knew by his tone that they weren’t going. It would be steak and potatoes again, even if it was the best in town. She wasn’t impressed. Bloody steak for him, medium steak for her. She was tired of Max. Six months was enough of his charade. 

He’d said he loved her in self defense, to keep her around, to keep her in tow and on his arm. She knew when she was being used. She didn’t like this disappearing act he was foisting on her.

“Excuse me, Max, I need to go to the ladies room,” Emily said as she put her napkin in the chair. She picked up her bag and headed toward the door and walked out into the fog of Main Street where the cars drove slowly to avoid splashing the pedestrians with newly fallen rain. She appreciated their consideration. 

Emily walked three blocks to the Sushi Garden, went in and was seated at the bar. The sushi chef gave her a glass of saki and smiled as she pointed toward the rolls and selections she wanted to try. “Good choices,” he said in approval.

 The cloud of invisibility dissipated around her. “Good choices,” she thought over again in her head.