“Come to this preview on Thursday.”
“I’m not going to.”
“Why not?”
“You know why.”
“They said you always stay home because you want to be with me.”
Ash takes off her glasses.
“I’m sorry, Ash, you’re trying to read. I’m sorry. Do whatever you want to do. I just don’t want you to miss time with your girlfriends cause you want me to come over.”
“That red isn’t gonna come out of that carpet,” she says.
I shake my head.
“I’m gonna have to get new carpet.”
I look at the stain.
“I’m gonna have to re-carpet this whole area. You know how I hate seams.”
“They can hide the seams.”
“Yeah,” she says, “but I’ll notice em.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.” I really wish she wouldn’t. “Just get someone professional to come replace that little spot, you’ll never know the difference unless—“ (she starts to interrupt me) “—unless you want to notice it.” I really wish she’d just choose not to notice it and have some fun. That’s how she is, though. She’ll pay attention to a spot, she’ll have to have the furniture just right. I think she’s started eating sugar again..to control. We all have our things. Mine’s alcohol—which is another kind of sugar. For Ash it’s sugar and Adderall. I wish she’d see that life doesn’t have to be perfect, that you don’t have to give the perfect gift and that there’s no wrong gift to give, no incorrect way to give it and that the only thing that matters is the giving. That’s the only part that matters. The giving, and the receiving. If you do those two right you’ve got the whole thing.
But don’t think I don’t know my part in this little dysfunction. I know I’ve never really committed to her in the way that she’s committed to me. I know that when I stop paying that mortgage (or stop contributing to it) and when I go back to my apartment, I’m really going to be there. I know I’m not going to think about her, and I know that she will think about me. Not saying I deserve thought and she doesn’t; that’s just the balance of our relationship. There’s always one who likes the other one, more than the other likes the one. I’ve always loved her, I like her even. But she’s never excited me, not past the first few months (which is pretty good, really).
I mean what do you expect? That we’re going to be best buds forever?
Lay off the Adderall and stop being so stressed about everything, maybe we’d have more fun. I wish she would go out with her girlfriends. She doesn’t have to flirt with people while she’s out! But damn, how do you expect a relationship to continue when all we ever do is sit at the house doing craft night and drinking wine? The occasional video game? I don’t like to see you sitting there making things. I’d like to see you come home, once in a while, from a night with your girlfriends..happy. Maybe a little drunk. I want to know that you’re ok. Within yourself. I want to know that you’re not depending on me too much. That if I went away, you’d be sad, but you’d move on. With Ash I know she would move on eventually but it’s gotten a little too much to the needing-you end and too far, too far away from the enjoying-you end..of the spectrum.
I’m in her bedroom with the closet door open.
She comes in when I’m holding the Frederick’s of Hollywood panties.
“Did you keep these?” I ask.
She sees me standing at her closet.
A couple of my shirts are on her bed.
“What are you doing?”