Read My Life as a Doormat (in Three Acts) for Free Online

the blank.
    And I went blank.
    In the kitchen I poured another cup of coffee, feeling fatigued from the weekend. Although it had brought a bit of unexpected drama, Saturday night had ended as it always did. Edward dropped me off at my apartment, gave me a quick kiss, and said we’d see each other the next day at church, and off I went. I changed out of my pink dress, which would be mentioned no more for the rest of the night and probably the rest of our lives, and hung it in the back of my closet, toying with the idea of trying to put the tag back on it. I knew that dress would never see the light of day again.
    Edward and I parted peacefully, and he seemed content and satisfied that all was resolved. But for me, there was a lot more emotion to work through. As I tossed and turned Saturday night, I hoped my sleeplessness would work it out.
    But Sunday I really felt no better, even after picking my favorite and most dependable black dress for church. It was a great find, because it was sleeveless and featured my favorite accessory: a turtleneck. In it, I could splotch all the way up to my chin and still look somewhat elegant. Edward made a comment about it, and, that I can remember, it was the first time he’d complimented me on my attire in the last year. But I felt cold and isolated, even with him sitting next to me. And instead of going to lunch afterward like we had since the beginning of our relationship, I excused myself and went home.
    I napped then, only to be awoken by the phone ringing. It was Edward. We talked briefly, and I pretended to be fine. Afterward, I ordered pizza, watched Footloose, and lost myself in the evening.
    So Monday morning arrived with the living room light lifting me off the couch. I knocked over the pizza box as I stumbled into consciousness. I showered and got dressed, which was something my mother had insisted on every morning I’d lived under her roof. She would be shocked to learn that I spend most mornings in my pajamas in front of the computer.
    I did realize my mother’s insistence on a shower, and clothing in the morning was a positive and healthy step in fighting off depression. Like many people, I found it easier when I didn’t care about the world to stop caring about myself too. But for me, being a little grimy helped pull out the subtle and not-so-subtle flaws I needed for each of my characters. Subtle required the simple over sight of brushing my teeth. Not-so-subtle, and you’d usually find me on day three without a shower.
    But Jodie Bellarusa’s flaws were already fully developed. They didn’t need any help from me.
    I took one look in the mirror this morning and knew a shower was in order, if not for personal hygiene then at least for personal respect. So I was fully dressed, fully fed, and had all my bills paid. That was a perfect recipe for success. Yet it had been an hour and I still couldn’t get the exact right words for Jodie Bellarusa. Jodie was claiming she wasn’t tough enough, but I felt it was something different. It was vague and hard to pinpoint.
    I believed at some point the blinking cursor would give it up, but so far it was holding its own.
    The phone on my desk rang, and my caller ID announced it was a private caller, which was usually code for my agent. I squeezed my eyes shut. I wasn’t sure J. R. was a good person to talk to right now. But on the other hand, she did have a knack for motivating me.
    â€œHello?”
    â€œLeah, it’s J. R.” She had a deep, scratchy voice that matched her personality but not her looks. If you ever saw her approaching, she’d remind you of your favorite grandmother, complete with a cane and pin curls. But then she would open her mouth. And not even pin curls could save her then. The woman roared, and not in a majestic lioness sort of way. “I’m wondering how the play is coming along. The one you can’t seem to find a title for.”
    â€œIt’s