Trashley: Thirty-Eight

You gotta pay to play

Ashley was in Minnesota visiting her kids while I was in Los Angeles going through her things. I had never snooped on Ashley before because I’m one of those annoying righteous morons who respects people’s privacy. And now I regretted it, because as soon as I started snooping, I hit the motherload: a stack of papers showing missed Tesla and Affirm payments, liens against Ashley for thousands of dollars from the state of Minnesota, letters from the IRS demanding more than forty thousand dollars in back taxes, several loans taken out in Cecelia’s name, the mysterious sale of a Subaru to CarMax, and six months of missed mortgage payments.

Creditors were hounding Ashley for money, and I had no idea how much she had put herself in debt, but it was enough to make me sick, which meant it was a lot.

I wondered if Ashley had targeted me on purpose, wanting to get her hands on my #MeToo lawsuit money, which I didn’t even have yet. And I’m sure she wanted to get in on my parents’ goldmines and woolly mammoth ivory. Ashley probably pictured herself diving into piles of gold, like Scrooge McDuck. Dumbass.

She looked at me like a dog salivating over a piece of steak. I was nothing but a walking, talking, golden ticket with big blue eyes, a dazzling personality, and incredible hair. It reminded me of the saying you gotta pay to play. In her mind, all she had to do was pretend she didn’t care about money because she was rich as fuck, then close the deal and get me to either marry her or have a baby together. She wanted to be legally interlinked with me forever, and I was convinced this was her game plan all along. 

Only, she went broke pretending to be rich.

Kirsten and I sat on my bed, going through Ashley’s belongings. I heard a knock on my front door. I opened it and found a bouquet sent by Ashley. She knew our relationship was in jeopardy, and she was desperate to save it.

The desperation smelled beautiful.

I found three iPhones stashed in a box, but they were all dead. I charged them. I knew the lock code to Ashley’s phone, although I had never used it. The first phone turned on, so I tried the lock code. 

It didn’t work.

I tried the second phone. 

Nothing.

The third phone turned on, and sometimes I think I did something heroic in a past life, like maybe I whispered in Hitler’s ear that he should kill himself and then helped him pull the trigger because when I typed in 3-4-3-4, the Universe rewarded me. 

Ashley’s phone was unlocked, and I was in.

New level unlocked.

My first stop was her text messages. She had used this phone when we first started dating, and I found her texts with Cecelia.

“I’ll only be in Bakersfield for a week, but I already miss you terribly. Thank you for taking me to the airport; I know you weren’t feeling well. I can’t wait to have our newest little member of the family. Only three more months. Heart emoji.” 

I looked at the date this text exchange happened: March 13, 2021. By this point, Ashley and I had been talking for at least three weeks.

Suddenly, my brain dinged like an alarm on the microwave: The universe had sent me a new message.

“I need your house keys right this second,” I told Kirsten.

She handed them to me. 

“I’ll be back in two minutes.”

I ran to Kirsten’s house. I don’t even think my feet touched the ground, and I could’ve sworn I heard someone say, “Is that white Jackie Joyner-Kersee?”

I went straight to the garage, where I had stashed a box filled with my old journals.

I power-lifted the box, put it under my arm, and ran home.

“It’s all here,” I said breathlessly as I dropped the box of journals on the floor. “I wrote down everything from the very beginning.” 

I dug around until I found the journal I was looking for.

“Okay, so that text message to Cecelia was on March 13. Let me see what I was doing that day.

I flipped through my journal.

“March 13th was the day Ashley flew to Bakersfield from Chicago,” I said to Kirsten, “She had downloaded every episode of Ex On the Beach for her flight. And we talked on the phone until 4:30 in the morning.”

I re-read Ashley's text to Cecelia that day: “I’ll only be in Bakersfield for a week, but I already miss you terribly. Thank you for taking me to the airport; I know you weren’t feeling well. I can’t wait to have our newest little member of the family.

“Just when I thought she couldn’t get any lower, she takes a nose dive,” said Kirsten. “She had her pregnant wife drop her off at the airport so she could fly to California and have an affair with you.”

I was disgusted. Not only was Ashley cheating on her wife with me, but she also knew about the pregnancy. Ashley had told me so many times that Cecelia got pregnant without her knowledge in an attempt to save their marriage.

Poor Cecelia. 

She had thought Ashley would only be gone for a week, but she never returned to her.

This was so much worse than anything I had imagined. Ashley had abandoned her pregnant wife and toddler for me.

I scrolled back through their texts to when Cecelia would’ve gotten pregnant.

“She fell asleep in her car seat, so I’m circling the fertility clinic. Let me know when you’re downstairs.” Ashley to Cecelia, October 12, 2020.

“We should name the baby after an astronomer, like Copernicus.” Ashley to Cecelia, November 15, 2020.

“We should move to London after the baby is born. I would love to spend a year or two abroad. The kids would love it, too.” Ashley to Cecelia, December 04, 2020.

Ashley and her family told me that she and Cecelia had been divorced for years. But, according to the texts, their marriage wasn’t in peril. The texts read as if they were happy, loved each other, and were planning their family and future together.

I flipped ahead to when I had met Ashley in person for the first time.

“Look, Ashley, I know you’re having an affair. And I’m begging you to come home. To choose us. We are your family, and we love you. We can work through this, but the baby is coming, and you disappeared on us. Please, I’m begging you to come home. I’m scared to do this alone.” April 14, 2021.

I flipped to that page in my journal. It was Ashley’s first time staying with me in LA, and everything started to click into place. Ashley told me her Uncle was harassing her, calling her incessantly, demanding she turn over her dead grandparents' estate. Ashley was getting phone calls, but they were from Cecelia, wondering if her wife would ever come home.

“Your mom told me you’re in Bakersfield, but I know you’re not. I know you’re in LA. I saw the charges you made to Silver Lake Ramen. Please come home so we can work through this. I’m scared to do this all alone. Our daughter needs her Mom.” April 21, 2021.

“For the last time, you need to stop accusing me of having an affair. I am not in Los Angeles. My sisters went, and I gave them my credit card. Stand the fuck down,” was Ashley's response to Cecelia’s plea.

I turned to my journal. Ashley was definitely with me, which meant her mom had lied to Cecelia. 

I couldn’t imagine gaslighting a pregnant woman while covering for my daughter’s affair. Indeed a sick fuck.

My insides boiled at the way Ashley spoke to Cecelia. A fire lit inside of my chest, behind my rib cage. I’d never really connected to my anger before, so this was a new feeling for me.

I scrolled to May when Ashley went to “settle her dead grandparents' estate” with her mom and Claudia.

“Did you guys really just come here to clean out my car and take it? Are you driving it to Bakersfield? What is happening right now, I don’t understand.” May 03, 2021.

What the fuck? Did Ashley and her family steal her wife’s Suburu?

I picked up the CarMax bill of sale from the stack of papers. It appeared that they had stolen the car and sold it because the time frame matched the statement.

“Ashley, the baby will be here in a week. I know you’re in Alaska, so please stop telling me you’re in Detroit. I can’t take it anymore. I am so scared to do this alone. Please come home. We are your family. Please choose us.” June 21, 2021.

The fire inside of me now raged.

I had no idea any of this was happening. This would explain the secret family meetings in Bakersfield, where everyone met in Ashley's parents' bedroom to get up to speed on Ashley’s lies. Then they’d Facetime Cecelia and her daughter, pretending I wasn’t one room over.

Energy flowed through my veins like I’d been infused with lightning.

I tossed Ashley’s phone to Kirsten. I had seen enough. I knew what I had to do. 

I had to talk to Cecelia.

And I was going to bring Ashley and her entire fucking family down.