After Ashley removed me as a driver from the car we had agreed to share until my new Tesla arrived in January, I rode to Joshua Tree with my neighbor, Kirsten. I knew thereâd be hell to pay when I told Ashley I was going to the desert with her mortal enemy, but I didnât think sheâd lock me out of her car. It felt like she was playing a game of limbo where she would stoop to a new level of petty every time the bar dropped. And when I thought she couldnât possibly go any lower, she did. I was surprised she was that flexible.
As soon as we got to Joshua Tree, I consciously uncoupled from my phone for the afternoon because I was sick of wasting my time and energy on Ashley. Plus, Joshua Tree is my happy place, and when Iâm there, I become one with the desert. Iâd rather step barefoot on a cholla cactus than be on the receiving end of an Ashley tantrum.
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When I returned to my phone a few hours later, I was shocked to see a text from Ashley with an actual, dare I say, apology. I mentally scrubbed through our entire relationship and couldnât find a single time she apologized.Â
The Ashley I knew would flip things around, become defensive, yell and scream, and then make me apologize for something I didnât do. I wondered if Ashley had killed off that version of herselfâ or at least retired her jersey.
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Iâve never been one to hold a grudge, although I do have a short list of people I will destroy in this lifetime. I hated that she had locked me out of her car, but what was I going to do, stay mad about it forever? This apology was a big step for Ashley. It signaled growth and maturity and a level of self-awareness I thought she was incapable of. Goddammit, she deserved a reward for doing the right thing for once, and that reward would be me forgiving her for trying to sabotage my trip to Joshua Tree. And magically, we returned to our regularly scheduled relationship.
While Ashley was in Minnesota, she told me Cecelia was not allowed in the house and had to stay across the street at a neighbor's place. They were only allowed to communicate through their lawyers and only if it was about the kids. It sounded messy, and I was relieved I had never married and especially grateful I never had to co-parent kids with someone I loathed. By the time Ashley came into my life, I had already discovered the key to happiness: being gay, traveling, money, and dogs.
Even though I have always been very open about not wanting children, I did want to know more about Ashleyâs. Especially since she was starting a parenting plan to visit them every month.
âI wish you would open up more about the kids,â I told Ashley when she Facetimed me in Joshua Tree one morning. âYou could even just send pictures here and there so I can have a mental image of who they are when I think of you as a parent.â
âReally? Iâve been waiting for you to say that,â Ashley said. âThe kids would love you. Youâd be such a good mom.â I could hear her children squealing in the background.Â
âOkay, slow down. I could see my role as more of a cool gay aunt, like how I am to my nieces and nephews⌠Iâm not intoââ One of the kids started clanging on a metal bowl with what sounded like a jackhammer, ââthe noise.â
Ashley walked through her old house while we talked. It was cute. There was a fireplace with exposed brick painted white and books and plants on every shelf. I was impressed by Ceceliaâs green thumb, especially for keeping her plants thriving through the cold Minnesota winters. Having healthy plants in LA is practically cheating. You donât need to do much to keep them happy, just put them near a window and tell them theyâre pretty now and then.
I knew Cecelia and I were supposed to hate each other, but in an alternate reality, we were probably in a book club together and went to the nursery on Sundays to get a quick hit of oxygen before hitting up the local farmersâ market and coming home with a bouquet of sunflowers.
âCome here, come say hi to Mommyâs best friend, Lauren,â Ashley said as she put the Facetime in front of her daughter. âCan you say hi, Lauren!â
I was not expecting this. I shot up in bed. A small head filled my screen. The tiny stranger blinked her big eyes. She looked like Bambi. And I knew people would pay a lot of money for her eyelashes. Her hair was pulled up in a mess of curls. She smiled, revealing the most adorable set of baby teeth.
âHi wawwan,â the cute little child said.
Ouch? What was this feeling? I felt my heart melt like butter in a microwave.Â
Was I having a heart attack? A stroke? Was this child casting a spell on me?
âHi, are you having fun with Mommy?â I asked.
âNo,â she said, âAshwee.â
âThatâs not what you call me. You call me Mommy.â Ashley corrected her with a slight harshness in her tone.
Her daughter wore a purple dress ten sizes too large for her tiny frame. âAre you dressed like a Princess?â I asked.
âYesh.â
âCan I see you do a twirl like a Princess?â
Ashleyâs daughter stood in the living room and twirled around in her dress while looking at the floor. She didnât stopâshe must have twirled twenty times.
âWow, youâre gonna get dizzy!â I said.
She fell to the floor, laughing.
I heard a door creak open nearby, and Ashleyâs eyes darted quickly in that direction. She hung up. There was no goodbye, no explanation.Â
Click.
I called back, but it went directly to voicemail. I sent her a text, but she didnât respond. Weirdâor was her behavior normalized by this point? It was hard to tell.
I went about my day, and Ashley called me that night from her rental car in Minnesota.
âWhat was that all about? Whyâd you suddenly hang up on me? Who was at the door?â
âDid you post anything about going to Europe?â She asked.
âWhat? Why are you not answering my question? Who was at the door?â
âIt was Cecelia. She thinks weâre going to Europe for Christmas, did you post anything about it on your social media?â
âWell, sheâs right. We are going to Europe. But I didnât post anything about it. Thatâs not my style.â
Ashley knew this about me. Iâm someone who shows up in places with no warning. Like one day Iâm at Malibu Sea Food eating steamed clams and watching humpback whales migrate to Mexico and the next day Iâm in Paris, strolling down Rue de lâAbreuvoir, taking bites out of a freshly baked baguette.Â
I learned how to travel from that sexy fox, Carmen San Diego.
âI donât know how she knows then,â she said, âBut she knows we are going to Slovenia and Switzerland, and she hid my passport.â
âWhen? What do you mean? Why does she have your passport?â
âSheâs always going through my things!âÂ
My temples started to pound.
âI thought you said she wasnât allowed at the house while you were there? So how could she go through your stuff?â
âShe has to come over to breastfeed. She refuses to teach our baby to take a bottle. And she stole my passport. Thatâs a federal crime!â
âAre you sure you didnât just misplace it?â I wasnât used to being the voice of reason in a relationship. âLook around. And if you donât find it, just get a new one, but you need to do it ASAP since weâre leaving in two months.â
âYouâre right. Iâll look. Iâm just feeling depressed without you, and Iâm constantly dealing with Ceceliaâs abuse. I canât take it much longer.â
âWell, just hang in there. And remember, youâre there to see your kids, so just focus on them and let the other stuff go.â
We got off the phone, and I started making dinner. Thirty minutes later, Ashley sent me a video of her daughter eating a birthday cake. It was the cutest video Iâve ever seen, and Iâve seen A LOT of baby goat videos. I sent it to my closest confidant, my sister Jordan. Showing her how cute Ashleyâs daughter was.
I think a flesh-eating virus was getting to my brain because suddenly, for the first time in my life, I considered being open to having children.
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That night, I sent Ashley a voice memo, letting her know I might be coming around to the idea of having children since hers were so adorable. I thought I knew myself, but I did not. Ashley told me that if I wanted to have a baby, she would pay for it. And we should set up an appointment with a fertility doctor.Â
âOKAY,â I said. âLETâS HAVE A BABY.â
I knew I didnât want to be with Ashley forever, but sometimes, she wasnât so bad. And if she paid for me to have a baby, Iâd expect her to leave, just like she did with her first set of children. And that would be fine; the problem would solve itself. Plus, I wasnât too strongly attached to her. I knew that if she abandoned me with a child, I would be fineâprobably better than if she had stayed.
That night, I checked Ceceliaâs Twitter out of habit, almost forgetting she had blocked me. But there it was. I had full access again. I wondered why the change of heart. And then I wondered how she knew about our upcoming trip to Europe. She was clearly an ace detective, and I was determined to figure out how she knew about the trip since I never posted anything about it, and my sisters and some friends were the only people I told.
As I scrolled through Instagram, God came to me in a vision and said, âCecelia knew about your European vacation by looking at the hashtags you recently followed. #LakeLucern #Swizerland #TrainsofEurope #LakeBled #fondueporn.âÂ
Ooh, she was good. She could probably start her own detective agency.
Now that Iâm completely caught up, Iâm jonesing for #27. Drag it out, but also finish it. But drag it out good. And get to it.
Episode 26: Puppy and a Truck https://youtu.be/6tIBc4ocMNU?si=0On5fSEeX758K8XB