Trashley: Thirty-Three
The Last Hurrah
We were a few days away from our big European adventure when Ashley told me it would be impossible to go due to heightened Covid restrictions, and I was surprised at how relieved I felt. I’d been looking forward to this trip for months, but the thought of Ashley having a meltdown in a foreign country scared the absolute fuck out of me. I took the canceled trip as a sign that it was time to untangle myself from her web of lies and move on with my life. There’s never a good time to break up, but I promised myself that once the holidays and her birthday were over, I was out.
Before heading to Bakersfield we celebrated our own mini-Christmas at my apartment. I had been collecting gifts throughout the year and I gave Ashley a two-person canoe, some camping supplies she miraculously didn’t already own, a solar charger, a weighted blanket, and a custom-made foam mattress that had been cut to perfectly fit her Tesla. I had purchased the mattress thinking we’d use it for car camping, but now the only way I pictured it being used was when I evicted her.
Ashley got me a quartz ring and an Australian Opal bracelet from Jaime Joseph, a new iPhone I didn’t need, and a Remarkable tablet, which I loved. Shiny expensive things weren’t holding me like they used to, and her love bombing had lost its allure. What once felt like generous gifts now felt like ways to bribe me to tolerate her increasingly horrific behavior. And I let go, and let god, with another thirty-thousand dollar check. It wasn’t worth it.
I didn’t get any presents for Ashley’s family except for her little sister, who I’d gotten as my Secret Santa. Thankfully, it was the sister I actually liked, and Ashley assured me that it was okay not to bring gifts since that wasn’t how her family spent Christmas. They only bought something under one hundred dollars for their Secret Santa, nothing more, nothing less. I realized what Ashley had told me wasn’t the case when we got to Bakersfield, where dozens of presents surrounded the tree like a gift moat. Ashley’s the mathematician, but all those gifts added up to way more presents than just one gift for your Secret Santa.
”Who’s ready for some Christmas time magic?!” Stacey squealed from the dining room. “Here, these are for you.”
Stacey handed us matching red and white checkered pajamas. She was already wearing hers, along with a Santa hat and a necklace made of jingle bells.
“What are you waiting for, go put them on!”
I poured myself a large glass of Cabernet, although I would’ve been happy drinking out of the bottle. Bakersfield made me want to drink more than anywhere else on earth.
“Do you want to meet my Grandma?” Ashley asked after changing into pajamas.
“Of course,” I said.
Ashley’s Grandma had moved in with her family after Grandpa Hank died. Ashley slowly opened the door to the guest room. The curtains were drawn and the room was pitch black. Two cats spilled out like a cartoon tumbleweed, entangled in each other and rolling and hissing across the living room floor. I looked at Perci’s face, and it said, what the fuck?!
“She brought her feral barn cats,” Ashley said, “You have to speak loudly because she’s nearly deaf.”
We walked into the dark room.
“Grandma, this is my girlfriend Lauren,” Ashley said.
I could barely make out her silhouette in the dark. I heard a faint voice coming from the bed.
“Does she wear make-up?” Ashley’s Grandma asked.
“Yes Grandma, she does,” Ashley said proudly.
“Oh good,” Grandma replied. “I’ll see her tonight at Christmas.”
We didn’t stay to chat. Her Grandma reminded me of someone being interviewed on Dateline who wanted their identity covered.
“Why did she ask if I wore makeup?”
“She always wears makeup. She puts it on every night before she goes to bed.”
“Why?”
“In case someone sees her.”
It didn’t make sense to me unless this woman was hideous, which I couldn’t tell because of the darkness. It reminded me of a pamphlet from the 1960s about how housewives should act in front of their husbands. Always wear makeup to bed so that if your husband wakes up in the night, your face doesn’t frighten him.
If her prerequisite for Ashley’s girlfriend was to wear makeup, then I had unknowingly understood the assignment. I’m the kind of girl who puts red lipstick on before I Peloton.
That night, we all gathered around the Christmas tree in our matching pajamas. Ashley handed out the first present, it was from her parents to Claudia. We watched Claudia rip it open, it was a small handbag from Gucci.
“Oh wow, this is nice. This is so nice. And look, it came in a dust bag. That’s how you know something is so nice,” Cladia said, admiring her new purse.
The voice inside my head mocked her, “Wow this is so nice. I love nice bags. And a dust bag wow it is so nice. Nice, nice, nice. Bag, bag, bag.”
Idiot.
Ashley shoved a large box in front of her mother. When Stacey opened it, she gasped. It was the pizza oven of her dreams. It had taken several months, but Ashley had finally tracked it down at The Big Five in Bakersfield.
“Now we can set up a full pizzeria in the backyard, Mom,” Ashley said. “Mmmhmmm,” Stacey grinned.
I looked at Grandma, who was carefully applying lipstick while holding up a compact mirror. I hope I’ll still be wearing makeup in my eighties.
Ashley handed me a present from her parents. They’d given me a felt cowboy hat, and a couple of frilly laced shirts. I feigned excitement, knowing they were not my style, and I’d never wear them.
“Those are from the Glendale Galleria,” Stacey said. “Some cute little prom store.”
Oh good, I couldn’t wait to return them.
“This is so nice, a dust bag is for high-quality bags,” Claudia said.
She continued talking about her Gucci purse as if it were the most beautiful possession known to man.
“You know something is nice when it comes in a dust bag.”
Ashley’s mom looked regal on her chair, as if she was a Queen sitting on her throne, overlooking the peasants unboxing their once-yearly spoils. Her smirk expanded every time someone opened a new gift. Like it gave her a thrill to see how much money they had spent on Christmas. She reminded me of an evil queen who fed on the joy of others because it made her younger.
“Omg, this is so nice,” Claudia said as she opened her next present, “Good for one session of lip filler at the Mirage Spa in Bakersfield Plaza. This is so nice! I’m definitely going to use this, and it fits in my purse. It’s so expensive because of the dust bag.”
I couldn’t help but smile at Claudia. She was too good to be true.
After we opened presents Ashley and her parents wanted to finish the night with a light show of all their Teslas. Her Mom and Dad pulled their cars out of the garage and Ashley positioned hers in the middle.
There they were: all of their toys on display. Proof they were living the American dream. They’d made it.
Spending the holidays in Bakersfield with Ashley and her family was eye-opening: these were not my people. I felt like I had been tricked into dating Ashley, and was mad at myself for ignoring my instincts. It was my fault I was spending time in a city that had no culture, with people who had no class, and with a woman who lied to me about everything I had once loved about her. I thought I had more respect for myself than this.
Just a week earlier, I had thought we’d be in Europe, visiting Lake Bled, Rome, Venice, and Zurich, yet here I was, in Bakersfield, spending my days browsing the sweatpants section of Dick’s Sporting Goods and wandering the aisles of DSW.
It was a good reminder that life comes at you fast. At least I had given away the New Years Eve dinner and boat cruise I’d spent eleven hundred dollars on figuring that at least someone should enjoy ringing in the New Year.
We gathered around the TV one night to watch the new season premier of the show Gold Rush on Discovery channel because my family was on it. Ashley’s entire family watched as my Dad made a deal with Parker, and Drew and Ilaura were in on it.
“My sister’s were asking how much land and gold mines your Dad has,” Ashley said during a commercial break.
“They did?” I said, glancing at her sisters’ on the couch. They weren’t even paying attention to the TV, they were both on their phones. “I’m pretty sure your sister’s haven’t looked up from their phones since we got here.”
I ignored Ashley’s question. I knew what she wanted me to do. She wanted me to talk about things that weren’t any of her or her family’s business. It felt like Ashley was salivating over it, like she could see a giant pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and she was so close to getting her hands on it.
All of the sudden, I felt sick.
As if, by dating me, she would be welcomed into the family business. Even though I wasn’t involved in the family business.
We spent New Year’s Eve in Ashley’s parent’s backyard, watching fireworks light up the night while also hoping not to get shot by a neighbor’s rogue homemeade mortor.
We had to sleep on an air mattress in front of the Christmas tree since Ashley’s Grandma was in the guest room. The feral cats screeched and hissed at each other throughout the night while simultaneously knocking over every single object in the house. It was enough to make me want to stab myself in the throat with a fork.
I woke up on New Year’s Day on a half-deflated mattress, in a dark corner of a Bakersfield living room, next to a woman I could no longer stomach, to the sound of a grown man laughing to himself in the background as he watched a marathon of MTV’s Ridiculousness.
This was not the energy I wanted to bring into 2022.
I needed to make some big moves: this was not my future.
I checked my email out of habit, knowing nobody in Hollywood worked over the last few weeks. Well, the last month and a half, really. But I got an email that gave me something to live for: my Tesla had arrived, and it was ready for pick-up at a garage in Burbank. Yum, I could almost taste my freedom. This was one small step for man, one giant leap for Laurenkind. Ever since the first time Ashley had locked me out, I had hated relying on using her car while I waited for mine. And I hated having to tell her why I needed it. Sometimes a bitch just wants to drive.
Ashley took me to Burbank to pick up my car, but she wanted to stay in Bakersfield for a few more weeks, which I fully encouraged. So, she drove back up.
This was phase one of the breakup: Distance.
With Ashley in Bakersfield, I had time to come up with a plan. I considered my options. I could pack up her things and have them ready when she got back to LA, but I didn’t want to go through her stuff. Maybe we could have a break-up talk when she returned, and then she could take her things with her when she left. Or, I load up my car and drop her stuff off at her parents’ house. I felt that would be too humiliating though.
“I quit my job at BuzzKill,” Ashley told me on the phone one night. I’d almost forgotten about her side-hustle. “Kassie cried when I turned in my notice.”
I knew that was yet another lie to add to the roster.
Ashley had been working for BuzzKill for almost ten seconds, and she had never met this woman in person since her job was fully remote. Nobody, not one single person on planet Earth, would cry over that.
“I think I’m going to get an apartment in Minnesota,” Ashley said one night on the phone. I found one that’s five minutes away from the kids. That way, I won’t have to stay in hotels when I visit.”
This was it, my ticket out.
“That’s a brilliant idea,” I said. “I can help you furnish it.”
I felt like our relationship was a masterclass on why I shouldn’t ever let anyone move in with me: I couldn’t just end things because I had to make sure she had a place to go. There wasn’t room for her in Bakersfield, so this apartment in Minnesota was a gift. Plus, she was missing out on watching her kids grow up. I felt a lot of guilt over how little time she spent with them, as if I was the reason she barely saw them. I know I’m more fun and funnier than any child, but it made me sad she chose me over them. Didn’t she miss them?
I miss my iced coffee if I forget it in the car. And I miss Perci when he’s sleeping right in front of me. And her babies were human.
Knowing Ashley was getting an apartment in Minnesota was the light at the end of the tunnel.
I still took her to Big Sur for her birthday because it’s impossible to feel mad in the forest. I could have been with my greatest enemy and wished them nothing but good fortune and happiness. Plus, Ashley and I were always at our best when we went camping. I’ve loved being in the woods ever since I tried mushrooms and realized trees were alive. They have faces in their trunks and their leaves are their hair.
Over the next few weeks, I packed a suitcase for Ashley to bring to her new apartment. I filled it with the necessities: a set of gold silverware, bath towels, shampoo, conditioner, toothpaste, a shower curtain, bed sheets, pillow covers, pots and pans, plates, bowls, and candles.
Ashley took the suitcase to Minnesota for her monthly visit, and while she was gone I deliberated the right time to break up with her. During this time, I continued checking Cecelia’s social media, looking for clues about Ashley. She posted a photo at the zoo—Ashley had told me earlier in the morning that she was taking her daughter to the zoo, with no reference to Cecelia or the baby. I didn’t understand why she claimed they could only talk through lawyers when they were clearly going on family outings together.
“I bought a jeep,” Ashley told me on the phone as she set up her new apartment.
“You’re not going to drive your Tesla out there?” I asked.
“Why would I do that?”
“Well, it seems unnecessary to have two cars. We can just share mine when you’re here,” I heard myself say, in the hopes of keeping peace between us.
“My kids would ruin the Tesla, they’re not even allowed to look at mine even though my daughter loves how the doors open like a Dolorean. She says, ‘So cool, Momma.’”
“Okay, it just feels like a waste of money to have two cars.”
“Whatever, it was only fifteen thousand dollars and I bought it with cash so I wouldn’t have to pay interest on it.”
At least she had money. That made me feel better about ending things, knowing she could easily afford to move on.
“How was the zoo?” I asked.
“Good, she just wanted to go on the carousel the entire time.”
“And did the baby go too, or just your daughter?” I asked, since she rarely mentioned the second child.
“Yeah, why?” she said.
“Why don’t you just tell me you did a family outing? Why do you always act like it’s just you and your daughter, and you never mention the baby or Cecelia. You act like they’re not even there. You did the same thing when you went to the apple orchard. I saw Cecelia and the baby in your sunglasses reflection. I don’t understand why you feel like you have to lie about them being with you.”
I knew this would cause some World War III reaction, but at least she was thousands of miles away.
“You’re calling me a liar now? When have I EVER lied to you?”
2021 Lauren would’ve avoided the confrontation because I wouldn’t want to deal with Ashley’s temper, but 2022 Lauren needed some goddamn answers.
“Okay. You lied to me about your Grandparents dying within a day of each other. And I believed you. You fake cried, you acted distraught over their deaths. You told me you Facetimed them every morning at 11:25am, before you took a lunch break at Fermilab or wherever the fuck you were pretending to work. You made me believe they were the most important people to you in the world. And for weeks after they allegedly died you went on and on about how they left you in charge of their Estate. You said your Uncle was harassing you, and it wasn’t your Uncle on the phone. It was Cecelia, I heard you say her name. You said your Grandparents left your Mom and her siblings one point three million dollars each. And that you were the only one who was apathetic about money in your entire family. How’s that? Are those enough lies for you, or do you want me to keep going?”
I was expecting Ashley to lose it on me. But she said nothing. A minute passed in silence.
“Hello? Anything?” I said into the phone.
And then I realized, she hung up on me.
I called back and she sent it to voicemail. I called again, same thing.
“Why did you hang up? Why are you avoiding my calls?” I texted.
“I think it’s best we don’t talk for a few days.”
This was maddening. She refused to be called out on her bullshit.
I cried myself to sleep that night, I felt hurt and defeated. I wished she could make things better, or go back in time and not lie to me. But the damage was done. The next morning I woke up, and like a true Virgo, I took the high road.
I called Ashley first thing and told her I forgave her for lying about her grandparents dying. Obviously, it was a crazy thing to lie about, but now that I knew the truth, I could let my anger over it go. And I didn’t hate her, or loath her even. I went into this relationship being open, honest, real, and vulnerable. Everything I felt for her was genuine and came from the heart. And I thought she reciprocated. I still had compassion for her, I knew it wasn’t completely her fault she was this way. It made me sad for her, and I hoped in her future relationships she wouldn’t feel the need to lie. As far as we went, I knew it had to end, and it crushed my little gay heart.
“I want to fix this. I want to make you happy again,” she said.
I knew that wasn’t possible.
She said, “I rented a cabin in Big Bear when I get back. It can be like old times, just you and me.”
I knew this was not going to work out, but we always had fun together in the woods. It was the only place I ever felt like I was with true Ashley. And deep down, I still wanted her to be that person because she was fun. And maybe that person had a reason for acting how she did. And maybe, if we spoke about it, things would improve and she wouldn’t feel the need to lie to me anymore. I agreed to Big Bear, knowing in the pit of my stomach that it would be our last Hurrah, yet hoping my instincts were wrong, and I wouldn’t regret it.
I came in a dust bag once. Once.
Perci and I made the same face during the “light”show.