Trashley: Forty-Two
The SIM Card
Ashley cut her trip to see her children short when I told her I wanted to break up, and called her out on some of her lies. She didn’t know I’d been talking with her wife, who confirmed that everything Ashley had told me over the year we dated was untrue. I felt like I was watching a meteor shower, and every passing star was a lie.
Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. Alien. Lie.
As I watched Ashley’s location get closer to my apartment, I prayed to every god I could think of that she would accept the breakup and leave without causing too much of a scene. But the chances of that happening were negative zero percent, so I prepped my apartment for the incoming storm. I hid all of my knives and weapons in case Ashley tried to hurt herself. The night before, she told me she bought a gun at a thrift store, and I didn’t know if that was real or a lie. But if I were a betting man, which I am, I’d say lie.
The Uber pulled up, and Ashley’s footsteps plodded up my stairs.
“Stay calm and keep a clear head, Lauren,” My former Karate teacher, Mr. Scott, whispered in my ear. “Don’t make decisions out of fear, and don’t panic. When you panic, you fuck up.”
Thank you, Sensei.
“I want to know what I’m walking into right now,” Ashley said as she entered my apartment.
