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There’s a little bottle on the counter.
Leaving Ashley behind, I go and pick it up. Laxative.
It probably belongs to her. Sighing, I bow my head before pocketing it.
“Get lost,” I tell Ashley.
“What?” she asks, confused.
I turn around and face her. “Get lost.”
“But Zach –”
“Get the fuck out.”
“Are you doing this because of her?” Ashley asks, looking up at me with pleading eyes.
There was a time when my dad wanted me to marry her. That was reason enough for me to just fuck her, steal her virginity in a cheap motel room, and leave her sleeping on the bed.
Just to spite my dad. Anything to spite my dad.
But I underestimated the blonde, virgin princess. She never really left. She hung around, year after year, watched me fuck other girls. Always others, never her.
I never understood why but I think I do now.
She loves me. In her own way, she was giving me the time to sow my wild oats. She still thinks we’ll end up together one day.
Poor Ashley.
“This isn’t St. Patrick’s anymore,” I say.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means stop being a bitch and grow the fuck up.”
Her eyes flash fire. “Excuse me?”
I shake my head. “Jesus, how much have you had to drink?”
Ashley draws back as if I slapped her. I might as well have. Drinking used to be my way of coping three years ago – not sure if I’m allowed to preach about it. That and my bike.
“Are you… are you taking her side?” she almost shrieks as a reply. “Did you see how she was? She was going to attack me.”
“And I’m thinking I shouldn’t have stopped her.”
Ashley is hurt. Her bee-stung lips tremble. “Why did you, then?”
“She would’ve gotten fired and you’re not worth it.”
An actual tear slides down her cheek.
It’s not that I deliberately want to hurt Ashley. She hasn’t done anything that she wouldn’t have done back in school.
It’s just that I don’t want anything to do with her or the old crowd or all the things we did back at school.
“Ashley, look –”
“You’ve changed,” she cuts me off, looking at me like I’ve grown two heads or something. “I can’t believe after all those years, you’d defend her. Her. Cleopatra. Do you even remember how much we hated her? How she didn’t belong with us? The way she talked back? And she’s not better now. She’s a freaking maid. A maid, Zach. Nothing about her has changed.”
