The Show Goes On

Anger's a Two Way Street

Naomi drove at a ridiculous speed, speeding and passing stop signs and red lights with reckless abandon. It was a miracle she wasn't pulled over, but even if she had been, she'd have half a mind to strangle whichever cop had the misfortune of trying to slow her roll. She pulled up in front of the condominiums where Brandi stayed and click-clacked her way up the steps and pounded on the door, her gold bangles jingling against her thin wrist.
Inside, Brandi was in her bathroom, blotting her lipstick. Her mother had just left to visit her aunt in Flushing with the promise of stopping by later to talk again. Brandi turned her head to her bedroom and started to walk to the door, wondering who it could be. Maybe it was Jordan. But why was the pounding so hard?
Brandi opened the door and saw Naomi standing in front of her, fuming.
"You." Naomi spat. Without missing a beat, she pushed Brandi back. Hard. Brandi fell back against the wooden floor and scrambled to her feet, staring at the blonde woman towering over her.
"What the hell are you doing?" Brandi yelled.
"You." Naomi hissed again. "You're the one fucking with my marriage. You're screwing around with Jordan. How long, huh?" She stepped closer.
"How long you been whoring yourself out to my husband?"
Brandi stood, her nose nearly touching Naomi's, eyes flashing with rage.
"Who do you think you are? Coming into my house," Brandi's knuckles twitched, "calling me a whore?"
"I just call it like I see it," Naomi snapped and shoved Brandi back. "Its all you are; just a little whore. First your boyfriend kicks your ass so you go crying to Jordan to be your savior. I bet that's why he did it too," Naomi hissed with a vile ice in her voice, "I bet he knew about you and him. And that's why he hit you. You fucking deserved it, you little wench."
Brandi reared her hand back and slapped Naomi across the face. Hard.
Naomi's face throbbed from the slap and she lifted her face to look at Brandi in the eye.
"You don't know the half of it, doll. Now step out of my house. I don't want Staten Island trailer trash stinking up the upholstery," Brandi said in a low voice. Naomi's fist came in contact with Brandi's face at white hot speed and Brandi felt her body rock back. But she did not fall. She steadied herself and felt sharp, immediate pain pulse through the wound Lenny had left behind. Blood dripped onto the wooden floor and she pressed against Naomi, pushing her to the door.
"Leave. Now. I don't want to do this with you," Brandi steadied herself, using all of her willpower not to choke the woman in front of her.
Naomi's anger burned white hot tears that streamed down her face.
"He'll never love you like he loved me, you know that?" she sobbed bitterly. "I'm the best he's ever had, better than you or anyone before him. Don't kid yourself for a second thinking you can match up to me," Naomi screamed.
Her heels were nearly touching the tip of the door frame as the spring wind blew her hair.
"You're right," Brandi smoldered, tasting the blood rolling along her tongue. "I'm better." She slammed the door so hard the picture frame on the wall vibrated violently. Brandi leaned back against the door and let herself fall to the floor. She could hear Naomi's sobs echo outside for a few minutes and then the sound of heels hitting the steps, and then the sound of a car screeching away. Brandi closed her eyes and pressed her sweater sleeve to her nose to stop the bleeding. When had she found out? Obviously not long ago, since she was this angry when she came here, Brandi thought. She must've talked to Jordan. Brandi's head pulsed with pain and she took a deep breath. Even with the blood flooding out of her nose, she still felt bad for Naomi. Whatever he had told her, it had been enough for her to know everything. And even though Naomi could be vile, she wasn't horrible. She was just hurt. Maybe someday Brandi would apologize to her. She'd never wanted to be a homewrecker. None of this had anything to do with Naomi; Brandi hadn't even thought of her when she fell for Jordan. Maybe that was the flaw in the plan. But at least she knew. At least it was out in the open and there was no more doubt.
And even bleeding and in pain, with her nose throbbing incessantly, Brandi felt the smallest flutter of happiness deep inside her.
Because it occurred to her that if Naomi knew, Jordan told her. If Jordan told her, Naomi would want a divorce. Jordan had probably asked for the divorce.
Jordan was divorcing Naomi; and he was doing it for Brandi.
And in the bathroom, splashing water against her face and surveying the slight damage to her nose and upper lip, she found it in her to smile.

He really meant what he said; and he was doing things right by her. And nothing in the world could have meant that much to Brandi.