Heart of the Matter by KI Thompson Page A

refrigerator, she thought of the sexy new black dress hanging in her closet. Images assaulted her mind. She could see herself in that dressing room mirror, pale flesh in all directions. Her date with Sandra was in two days and she had done nothing to improve her condition. Her stomach coiled again, this time with unease, not appetite. Tossing the takeout into the trash, she decided today would be salad only.
    She washed some lettuce and set out the carrots, cucumber, and tomato, but as she began to chop, her flimsy enthusiasm waned.
    She couldn’t help but think about Kate’s behavior. Maybe she was angry about Ellen’s intrusion into her life and just wanted to be left alone. If so, she could have raised the topic politely. There was no reason to curse and slam the door in her face. Ellen had done nothing to warrant that type of conduct, and the more she thought about it, the more the outburst upset her. She couldn’t believe how out of proportion Kate’s reaction had been. She’d agreed to their arrangement, even putting grocery lists together for specific items she would need. If she wanted to stop, all she had to do was say so.
    Whatever Ellen’s imagined faux pas, she certainly didn’t deserve such rude, unfair treatment. She was only trying to help. How dare Kate speak to me that way?
    She tossed the knife onto the chopping board, wiped her hands on the kitchen towel, and located a notepad and pen. Angrily, she jotted a brief note.
    Kate,
I’m sorry about the tough time you’re having, but I’m not your punching bag. If you’d like some groceries again and think you can show basic courtesy, give me a call. I won’t knock on your door in the future unless invited. I hope you feel better soon. Ellen
    She ripped the page off the notepad, folded it in half, and marched out of her condo. Striding down the hall, she discovered that her eyes were prickling. She had allowed herself to imagine a friendship, even picturing the two of them going out occasionally once Kate was better. She had envisioned evenings together at the theater or out at dinner, behaving like close, caring neighbors.
    Admittedly, she had also fantasized that their relationship might evolve with time. Even if the thoughts were unrealistic, she couldn’t help wishing Kate saw her as more than just a neighbor. Ever since Ellen first began watching her on TV, Kate had drawn a powerful physical and emotional response from her. Now that they were in contact more often, it was self-delusional to pretend she felt nothing.
    And she did not indulge in self-delusion.
    She paused at Kate’s door, her emotions in a muddle. For a split second she almost knocked, then recalled Kate’s face contorted with anger, those penetrating green eyes blazing contemptuously. Hurt engulfed her like an acid tide, eating away at her self-confidence.
    With a bitter sigh, she crouched and shoved the note under Kate’s door, then escaped quickly along the hallway.
    Her heart was still pounding erratically ten minutes later when she poured herself a glass of wine and deposited her freshly made salad on the table. She pondered the meal and decided that she wasn’t hungry after all. Doubt crawled from her throat to her gut. She had acted rashly toward a woman who had been through a terrible ordeal. How could she be so insensitive to Kate’s plight? Her frustration was a natural reaction to a situation beyond her control. It was bound to spill over sometime, misdirected at whoever happened to be there.
    Ellen wished she’d waited to calm down before delivering that note. She wondered if Kate had noticed it yet. Maybe she was watching television, or sleeping. Ellen tried to think of a way to get the note back. If she slid a coat hanger under Kate’s door, perhaps she could hook it. How could she have done such a stupid thing? What would her mother think of her lack of manners? Ellen cringed.
    The thought also pulled her up short. Her mother’s birthday party was in two