Trashley: Forty-Nine

The fork in the road

Michelle and I hid in the laundry room while Ashley picked up her daughter so she wouldn’t know we were visiting Cecelia. We overheard Ashley say that her Mom was in town, too. I gagged at the thought of Stacey. Ashley’s mom had covered up our affair, gaslighting Cecelia into thinking Ashley had been living in Bakersfield all year. She had also helped Ashley secretly sell Cecelia and Ashley’s family Subaru so Ashley could buy a used Tesla. While lying and stealing from Cecelia and her own grandchildren, Stacey had lied to me about Ashley owning an apartment in San Francisco and going to MIT.

Whoever had created this woman was like, “Here’s a bunch of toxic traits. Let’s call her… Stacey.”

Ashley left, and the four of us packed into Cecelia’s car and headed to the farmer’s market. I was getting a little taste of what life was like in the land that bridged together NYC and LA. I could see the appeal. The air was clean, without an ounce of smog. The trash was inside trash cans instead of overflowing into the street. The grass was so green you could probably eat off of it. This was the life Ashley had left behind.

“I can’t believe her Mom is here,” I said. “How embarrassing to lie to you and then show up in your town as if nothing happened.”

“So embarrassing,” said Cecelia, “At least I won’t run into her since they don’t do anything here except sit in Ashley’s apartment with the blinds closed or go to the Casino and play slots.”