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Trashley: Part Twelve
The trash runneth over
After storming out of the house, turning off her location for five hours, and returning with a new iPad for me, I was aware that Ashley’s behavior wasn’t normal. I also realized I was always making excuses for her: she’s under a lot of stress. She doesn’t have a good support system. Or, maybe she’s normal, and I’m the insane one.
The Ashley that first attracted me felt like an optical illusion. I’m a big reader, and she said she was, too. But, the only time I ever saw her with a book was when I came home one afternoon to find her perfectly posed on my couch, engulfed in Tender Is The Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I swore it was staged because I heard Grand Theft Auto coming from my TV as I made my way up my stairs.
Couldn’t be.
She’d also told me that she always scribbled math equations on napkins, or in one of her many notebooks, and I’d yet to see that happen.
Also, where was her dog?
Ashley was going to Detroit for a week for work, and I was going to Idyllwild for Kirsten’s birthday, which is where we celebrate every summer. I knew Ashley would lose it when I broke the news to her that I’d be hanging out in the woods with her nemesis. And of course, she did. She screamed at me and slammed the car door in the PetCo parking lot, her soul…
