Upon returning from the Canary Islands, I discovered that Ashley was on Bumble, on drugs, and on bad terms with some of my neighbors. I suspected Ashley was lying about other things, like being a professor, but I didnât have solid proof yet. If only the Universe would send me a message. Weâd planned a camping trip for my birthday, which was coming up on Labor Day weekend. Ashley was taking me to my favorite place on Earth: Big Sur. A place so enchanting it almost makes me believe in God. I couldnât wait to soak up the trees, the coastline, and the autumn vibes, and I wasnât going to let a couple of major lies spoil our trip.
My birthday is special since itâs a Federal holiday, the day Beyonce was born. Having the same birthday as Beyonce is a huge responsibility. People expect more from us. When Ashley and I started dating I thought she was my Jay-Z, but lately sheâd felt more like my Becky with the good hair.
Ashley and I packed the Tesla with our camping gear and drove to Bakersfield. The dead dog was still rotting on the side of the highway at the exit to her parentsâ house. He reminded me of climbers whoâd died on Mount Everest, because nobody was coming to pick him up. His corpse would spend eternity on the side of I-5.
I hadnât seen Ashleyâs family since I left for Spain in July, but I did learn they were low-key scammers when we ran a background search on them. They were always on the move, always running away and starting over while leaving a trail of unpaid bills, and enemies in their wake.
At Ashleyâs parents' house, Stacey rolled down the hallway on a scooter to greet us. She had a leg brace on because several weeks earlier, her and Brad went to a Luke Bryan concert in Vegas and got roofied before being trampled by a stampede of rednecks who mustâve seen a sign for a free buffet. I thought Ashleyâs parentâs were a little too old to be roofied, but this just proved if you set your mind to it, you can do anything.
Now that I knew they were swindlers, I tried to predict their scams. I thought Stacey was faking her injury so she could work from home while interviewing for new jobs since she was only sticking around her current one to get her bonus.
The Bakersfield house was getting some work done on the exterior. Same, girl. Same. A fire pit was going in next to the pool and they were talking about building a shack in the yard for Ashleyâs younger sister and her boyfriend to move into. Inside, the bathroom was still a mess and the dishes were still piled to the ceiling. Ashleyâs family lived like pigs but scooted around the house like swine royalty.
As we were getting ready to leave, Ashley got into a screaming match with her youngest sister Claudia, who was supposed to watch Perci while we were in Big Sur but had suddenly changed her mind.
âIâm not watching Perci while youâre gone. You need to take him with you.â
âWe canât take him with us, you said youâd watch him,â Ashley said.
âWell I donât want to anymore. And if you leave him here, nobody will feed him.â
If you leave him here, nobody will feed him.
Nobody will feed him.
I fought the urge to shove my entire arm down Claudiaâs throat so I could rip out her esophagus and strangle her with it. She made a very powerful enemy that day.
âCome on, let's go,â Ashley said to me. âJust leave him here, heâll be fine.â
âIâm not leaving Perci here. She just said no one will feed him.â
âSomeone will, come on. Iâll ask my mom.â
âAshley, Iâm not leaving him here. Not after that.â
I couldnât look at Claudia without feeling swells of rage. I wondered how often she had starved him when I was in the Canary Islands. He did look thinner, but I assumed it was from him thinking I was dead for six weeks. Claudia and Ashley kept screaming at each other, and I imagined Claudiaâs face as a pigâs face, as if I were seeing her through a Snapchat filter. But she wasnât a cute pig, she was a wild boar who rolls around in its own shit and instead of words, I heard oinks and squeals every time Claudia opened her mouth.
That did it. That made me feel better.
We loaded up Perci and drove toward Big Sur. I didnât want to bring him because the road was windy and heâd get car sick, but it was either that or leaving him with people who didnât give him the basic necessities. I played the Hamilton soundtrack on our drive and was shocked to discover Ashley memorized all of the songs since the last time I played it. I have a photographic memory for lyrics, and when I met Ashley she barely knew the chorus to My Shot. Sheâd clearly been practicing while I was away.
We pulled over when we spotted a herd of wild Zebras in a field across from the Pacific Coast Highway. The zebras had escaped from the Hearst Castle one hundred years earlier, and now they roam the area freely. Ashley flew her drone over the herd while we stood on the side of the road. Nice Ashley was in the house.
Our campsite was perfectly situated at the base of a redwood tree. I was so excited to do some forest bathing and immerse myself in nature. Our phones barely worked and that was okay. I had my dog, my wine, and my iPad. I couldâve died perfectly content.
The campsite took about an hour to set up and then we took edibles and did some exploring. I had missed taking edibles when I was in the Canary Islands because itâs one of my favorite things to do. I felt light, and funny, and creative. I had brilliant ideas Iâd write down and read the next day. I wondered how my brain got to be so stupid. What a gift.
The first night in Big Sur was perfect. I made queso and hot dogs on the fire and paired it with a sixty-dollar bottle of Cabernet weâd picked up at Donati Estates. We woke up the next morning and headed to the Big Sur Bakery, where they make the most delicious croissants on the planet. Paris could learn a thing or two from them.
I didnât want this weekend to end. I wanted to capture it and recreate it every day, but I knew that was impossible because the version of Ashley I was getting in Big Sur was only temporary. She would turn right back into being a mean girl once we got back to reality, and I was mad at her for that. I was mad that she couldnât make the calmness last, or do the work to try being a nicer person instead of a chaos machine. Whenever I tried to talk about anything deep or connect with her on a deeper level, she would dismiss it with, âI donât want to talk about that.â Or âI donât like talking about sad things.â
I wasnât able to mine anything out of her that would build a more solid connection, so I knew that one day Iâd have to end things. In the meantime I would enjoy the croissants and wine and thirty-thousand dollar checks.
After the bakery, we drove up to Carmel, where I could see myself buying a seaside bungalow one day to use as my writing retreat. Iâd just need about six million dollars to make that happen. I was gushing over houses when Ashley mentioned buying a place together.
âWe should buy a place in Silver Lake. Between our incomes and perfect credit scores, we could easily buy a two-million-dollar home.â
I could see that, if Ashley could be mentally stable. My therapist had warned me not to give up my apartment if I moved into a house with Ashley. But the thought of having a nice yard and a pool was enticing.
âDo you want me to buy you a house?â Ashley asked.
I turned to look at her. âIt would need a pool and a detached garage I can use as my writing space.â
Who wouldnât want that? I looked on Redfin all the time but I couldnât understand where all of Ashleyâs money was coming from when I rarely saw her work. Some days, she would plop down on the couch and play video games without changing out of her pajamas.
How does someone with no real ambition have money like that?
âI still have the one point five million dollars from the sale of my San Francisco apartment. We can use that towards the house,â Ashley said.
Was this my birthday present? Was Ashley buying me a house?
âOkay, letâs do it,â I said.
I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.
NOOOOOOOO!!!đąđąđą
Whoaaaa. She doesn't want to talk about big things, but wants to buy a house? Dats crazy