Ashley played the music I hate on the way home. It was Fugazi. I hate that shit. It’s too hipster, it’s like..if you weren’t in DC when it was happening, then why are you listening to it? You’ve got to play it on a mix, too—you can’t buy the full album. Your friend has to have given you the mp3..then it’s cool. Ashley is from Middletown; what the heck is she doing listening to Fugazi.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“I know but..whose home?”
“Do you want to go to your place?”
“Yeah..kind of.”
Ash looks pissed.
“Just take me back to my car.”
“You’re not driving.”
“Oh, fuck, Ash. Just take me to my car and I’ll sit there for a while and drink coffee.”
“You don’t drink coffee.”
“I know.”
Ash keeps driving.
“Just take me to my car.”
She swerves on the highway. “I’ll drive you to your place but I’m not taking you to your car.”
“Fuck, Ash..so..what..you’re gonna stay over?”
“I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“I really don’t want you to pick me up. Just take me to my car. I won’t drive drunk. I’ll sober up. I’ll sit at the bar and get a coffee.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh, fuck, Ash.” I lean my head against the window. The lights go by..too close. I really am drunk. “You’re right on the line, Ash.”
“I can drive my own car thank you very much!”
I’m not gonna argue with her. She’s been in three accidents; I’ve been in zero. I’ll let the numbers speak for themselves.
“At least change this,” I say. I pick up her iPod and she doesn’t stop me.
Fugazi Fugazi Fugazi. “Fuck me, Ash.”
She doesn’t say anything.
At least she’s driving me home.