It’s almost midnight when Ellen finally sets foot back inside her apartment in Tribeca. Actually, she had been dying to go home once she saw Portia and Nicholas left the gallery at 10, but Audrey was still participating in a hot discussion about contemporary art with some professional critics who happened to attend the exhibition. Ellen wasn’t sure whether Audrey really liked contemporary art or whether she only wanted to appear smart in front of them. She was almost tempted to leave Audrey by herself and go home. But of course, she couldn’t possibly do that, so she had to endure another 2 hours before she finally dragged Audrey out.
Ellen takes off her black coat and puts it carelessly on the couch of the living room. She walks down the hallway and stops in front of her mom’s room. She opens the door noiselessly and peeks inside. The snores indicate that her mom is already fast asleep. She closes the door again and goes to her own bedroom.
She’s only entering the room when her phone goes off. A text. She fishes out her phone from her pants pocket and checks it. From an unknown number.
Alright. Here you go.
That’s all there is in the text.
Not understanding what it means, Ellen ignores it and slips into her PJs. Not long after, another text comes in.
From the same unknown number. This time, the message goes:
I still hate you.
Ha! A victorious smile breaks out on her face. She knows now who the sender is. She also understands what the message means.
Portia de Rossi finally gave Ellen her phone number.
**********
Portia puts her phone on her nightstand and pulls her blanket to the extent of her chin. She curls up comfortably in her bed while wondering if she had taken the right decision in giving Ellen her phone number.
Suddenly her phone vibrates. Portia takes it and reads the newly received text.
Thank you. I’ll guard this treasure with all my heart.
Portia winces. She’s about to put it back on the nightstand when a new message comes in.
Also, did you know that there’s only a fine line between love and hate?
“Yeah, right,” Portia grumbles to herself.
***********
Ellen is still in the bathroom when Portia replies her text.
In my case, it’s a fucking abyss. A wide and deep one.
Ellen chuckles to herself and texts back, Anyway, what did my fiancée do with her fake boyfriend after they left the exhibition party? Don’t tell me he’s still with you right now.
********
“She’s absolutely nuts,” Portia mumbles when she reads Ellen’s text. Her fingers move swiftly to reply it.
None of your business. And for the 628th time, I’m NOT your fiancée.
Then she hits the send button with all her might, though that effort doesn’t produce any dramatic effect whatsoever.
In under 1 minute, another text comes in.
And for the 628th time, say that to my snoring mom. As long as she thinks that we’re engaged, your business is my business.
Portia rolls her eyes. “Absolutely nuts.”
******
I have to sleep. I don’t have time for your bullshit.
Ellen perches on the edge of her bed while reading the text.
Good night. Have a nice dream, she types. She dares saying it because the girl is nowhere near her so she can’t possibly punch her right now. Then Ellen musters some more courage to add,
Perhaps of me?
She’s dead sure that that particular sweet joke is gonna make Portia mad as hell.
The incoming reply is a short one. I hate you.
Ellen quickly texts back. I don’t.
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