Ashley picked me up an hour later. She’d taken my car to get a shower, then she came by to drive us both to work. She picked me up downtown. I told Jules I was walking home but I went to courthouse square and sat for a few minutes before Ash arrived.
I get in the car.
Ash is still wearing the same clothes.
“Didn’t you go home and get a shower?”
“I got a shower.”
“Are we gonna pick your car up, or do you wanna get it after work?”
“Let’s get it now,” she says. Her teeth are clenched and her arms are straight out, elbows locked, hands gripping the steering wheel.
“Well,” I say. “I think I’ll drive.”
I get out of the passenger seat—we’re still stopped by courthouse square—and I go around to where Ashley is and I open the door of my Honda.
Her hands are still on the steering wheel. Her seatbelt is still on.
“Are you o-kay to drive?” she says.
“Yeah. I’m fine.” (You were the one drinking.) “Ash. Come on. I’ll drive us to your place.”
“Why.”
“So we can get your car.”
“My car isn’t at my place.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s at your place.”
Oh right! Glad I didn’t take Jules there!
But it’s like Ash reads my mind: “How was Jules.”
“Jules was fine. Please. Get out of the car. Let me drive my car. We’ll take you to get your car. You can drive to work. You want to get breakfast?”
“Didn’t you have breakfast with Jules?”
“Ash. Please get out of the car. I’ll take you to your car if you want. I was just thinking we could get McDonald’s or something. Can you please get out. The light’s about to change.”