Trashley: Part Six

MIT/MTV/MIT/MTV

Ashley inspected the heavy manila envelope the Process Server had handed her, while the rest of us watched her slowly walk to the guest room and close the door. No one made a sound. I looked at her parents, who were looking at each other, and then I looked at Ashley’s sisters, who were looking at their phones. Ashley began wailing. She sounded like a humpback that had been harpooned.

“Should someone go in there?” I asked.

Ashley’s Mom got up. “You stay right there Sweetie, I’m sure it’s more of her ex-wife’s bullshit. You know, Cecelia hired a private investigator and he’s been parked outside for months, just waiting for Ashley to meet someone new. Her ex is just a gold digger, and she’s trying to steal all the money Ashley got from selling her apartment. She’s truly deranged, sweetie. I’ll talk to Ashley. Go help yourself to some wine in the kitchen.”

I opened the biggest bottle I could find, it was clear we were not driving back to Los Angeles that night. I asked Ashley’s sisters if they knew what was going on and they both shrugged, “I dunno.”

The sobbing eventually died down, and Ashley cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, I woke up on the couch and journaled while I waited for Ashley to wake up and drive me home. She ignored me when she walked by.

“I’m ready to leave whenever.” I said.

Ashley didn’t respond. Her eyes were puffy; she was a wreck. After a few…