She shows me the pictures she and the guy—the attackee—took after Beethoven chomped into the guy’s ankle. It’s pretty gnarly. "This is the first one," Ash says. "Right after."
"Do you know this guy?"
"No. He just moved in, I guess. That’s the only time I’ve seen him. She only attacks people when it’s dark."
"You mean he. What do you mean people? Holy shit Ash, you’re gonna have to put that dog down."
She sets the camera in her lap and leans back on the couch. She looks over at Beethoven. He’s sleeping by a gas fireplace. It’s four in the afternoon. I’m actually feeling hungry again.
"So when did you and Jules start doing mushrooms?"
I’m looking at her like whaaat?
"I can tell by your texts," she says.
Ashley and I have done mushrooms together.
"I don’t care," she says, "I just wanna make sure you’re ok."
"What about her? Don’t you want to make sure she’s ok? That I’m not leading her down the dark path?"
"I don’t care about Jules," she says.
And I believe that.
"Jules isn’t my friend," she says. "You are." She gets up from the couch and kicks the dog, gently. "I’m not gonna have to put you to sleep, am I?" Then she asks me if I want wine, and against my better judgement, I say yes.