Trashley: Twenty-Nine
Hanks-giving
In the short time Ashley spent in Minnesota and Chicago, she told me she had visited her other girlfriend, but it wasn’t cheating because it was across state lines. A bad joke? Most definitely. She went on a spending spree and bought a fourteen-hundred-dollar peacoat from Nordstrom, mirroring my jacket purchase a few days earlier. Imitation? Possibly. She also texted that she wanted to drive into a guardrail while her daughter was in the back seat. A horrific violation that had left me reeling and made me realize she had no business being around children.
Wherever Ashley went, chaos followed, as if it were a parasitic twin she had absorbed in utero.
For weeks, I was convinced Ashley was lying to me about a plethora of things from her upbringing, to schooling, her career, her grandparents death, her dog, and a nut allergy.
I kept a list of possible lies that was now three pages long, which I hid in a secret notebook in an unmarked box in my neighbor Kirsten’s garage, where I hid all of my journals. I was determined to confront her when she returned. I needed her to come clean about everything, and I hoped for my sanity, she would, even though I knew asking Ashley to be honest was like asking an earthworm to run a marathon.
I put Perci in the Tesla and drove to Bakersfield. Ashley was already there for her stepdad’s birthday. He was celebrating alone since Ashley’s mom was in Missouri visiting her dying father, the one I suspected Ashley had killed off in March.
It had been a month since I had visited Bakersfield, but the dead dog was still on the side of the highway. His rib cage and skull were fully exposed, and I slowed down to get a better look. Maggots were going to town on what was left of his decaying body. I could relate, my brain was filled with Ashley’s lies, and they were feasting on me.
When I pulled into Ashley’s parent’s driveway, it looked like a Christmas-themed porn set, XXX-mas. Red and green lights blinked from behind the living room curtains. Fake snow lined the walkway, and a two-foot-tall plastic elf stood on the left side of the front door while a plastic reindeer with a blinking red nose stood on the right. A large nativity scene was spread across the lawn, and one of the wise men had tipped over onto baby Jesus. Ashley’s mom was all about Christmas. It was part of her personality.
I walked inside, triggering an automated Chipmunks Christmas song to start playing. It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas…
Gross.
As I took my shoes off, I could hear Ashley in a screaming match with her youngest sister, Claudia. I had despised Claudia ever since she said no one would feed Perci while he stayed with them over Labor Day weekend. I wished her nothing but the worst– adult acne, leprosy, even a never-ending case of herpes.
Ashley stormed out of her parent’s bedroom and stomped past me, even though it was the first time I’d seen her since she went on her trip. Claudia followed close behind her. They acted like vultures screeching over a carcass, and their anger was a cacophony of all the worst sounds in the world.
I sat in the living room and tried to catch up on their fight, as if I had showed up late to a movie.
“And you’re a fucking lesbian, and according to the Bible, you’re going to hell!”
Ooh, I had walked in at a good part.
“Is that what your school teaches you because you sound like a dipshit. You’re so brainwashed!”
“Oh, I’m brainwashed? Well, you’re a sinner. Being gay is a sin!”
Nice, I loved it. I wanted to tap in with, You know what’s a sin? Your paper-thin lips. And then tap out because Claudia wasn’t worthy of my time or insults. Usually, I’m against attacking people’s appearance, but all my rules went out the window the second she threatened to starve my dog.
I went into the kitchen to grab a snack for the show.
Every gunky, crumb-filled dish was spread across the counter: plastic utensils in half-full coffee mugs and plates with what I can only assume was crusty, old, microwaved bean dip. Flies buzzed as I opened the fridge, and I nearly fainted from what smelled like rotten milk and apple cider vinegar.
I went to the pantry, which was filled with Diet Coke, double-stuffed Oreos, family-sized bags of half-eaten Funyuns, and a giant container of salted peanuts. I sifted around and grabbed the healthiest snack I could find: a thirty-one-ounce box of goldfish.
“—you think you’re so fucking cool because you have a Tesla!”
“At least I have a car, you nineteen-year-old nobody!”
I grabbed two red solo cups from the pantry, poured goldfish into one, and emergency red zinfandel from my purse into the other.
I returned to the sofa and threw a red blanket with Santa’s face over my lap, snuggling Perci while chaos erupted before us.
“—and your fucking MIT shirts that you’re always wearing. Who the fuck do you think you are?!” Claudia yelled.
“Don’t you DARE weaponize my education. You literally go to a Christian cult academy,” Ashley shot back.
Claudia threw a stuffed gingerbread man pillow across the room at Ashley. It hit a portable speaker, knocking it to the ground.
The Chickmunks started singing, “Simply having a wonderful Christmas time…
“You want me to tell Lauren about you? You want me to tell her?!”
Intriguing. Tell me everything, squeal on your sister you nasty little pig.
“Don’t you dare bring my children into this!”
“You know what I mean!” Claudia screeched.
Ashley turned towards me, “What the fuck are you looking at?!”
Mounted on the wall behind her was a framed inspirational sign that read, In a world where you can be anything, be kind.
“Don’t you dare talk to me that way, Ashley. Unless you want to start talking about all of your lies.”
“What did she lie to you about?” Claudia said while crossing her arms.
“I’m not even going to tell you because it would be too upsetting,” I said.
“I swear on my daughter’s LIFE I have NEVER lied to you about ANYTHING!” Ashley slammed her hands on a side table, triggering another chorus of chipmunks.
Deck the halls with bows of holly, fa la la la la la la la la…
Ashley’s phone buzzed from the countertop.
“WHAT?!” she answered.
I watched the blackness fade out of her eyes. Her evil smirk turned upside down. “Okay… uh-huh… k,” she said before hanging up.
“Grandpa’s dead.”
Everyone was being their absolute most, whether it be Ashley and her sister fighting or good old Grandpa Hank dying (again) right as I was about to call Ashley out on her bullshit. The Universe has unbelievable timing.
“We have to go to Missouri,” Ashley said to Claudia. “Mom needs us.”
Being cursed as an empath, I got up and hugged Ashley for no reason other than it felt like the right thing to do. Ashley didn’t seem that sad. She was more emotional the first time Hank died. We’d have to finish our discussion later.
“I have to cancel Thanksgiving,” Ashley said, pulling out her laptop. “We can’t go to the cabin.”
I was relieved. I didn’t want to be hidden from Cecelia anyway. The only thing was, I was curious what Claudia meant when she said she would tell me everything.
Brad returned from work early, and everyone flew to Missouri while I headed back to Los Angeles.
Ashley Facetimed me the night before the funeral.
“My Uncle Melvin called the cops on my Mom last night,” Ashley said, as breezily as someone would mention the weather.
“What do you mean? What happened?”
“Melvin accused Mom of killing my Grandpa. Like poisoning him or whatever. So the cops came and Melvin was drunk in the yard and waving his gun around. Mom thinks he’s stealing equipment and expensive things from the house to sell on EBay.”
Ashley’s parents had planned a backyard renovation and it sounded expensive, so I wouldn’t be shocked if Stacey poisoned her Dad if it got her a fire pit and an outdoor pizza oven. If Stacey killed her Dad, that was her business. If I learned anything growing up in the Alaskan wilderness, it’s not to interfere with other people’s murders.
Like, you do you, Queen.
Slay all day.
I already knew Ashley’s family were grifters, and if a detective did a little digging it wouldn’t take a genius to connect the dots.
While Ashley was gone, she dangled another thirty thousand dollar check in front of my face. That and the promise of our upcoming European vacation was enough to keep me around for a little while longer. She even bought me a fancy-girl camera for our trip.
Ashley knew I wanted to call her out on her bullshit, but she was skilled at deflecting the conversation, or buying whatever she needed to to avoid it.
I noticed another pattern with Ashley: the moment I tried to get to the bottom of her lies or call her out on something, she would tell me she was having suicidal ideations. It was nearly impossible to confront her when she told me she was thinking about killing herself. I had no idea whether she was serious, so I treated her like a package of eggs being shipped through the mail. Fragile. Handle with care.
Ashley flew back to LA on Thanksgiving, and I picked up a two-person meal at Whole Foods. If Ashley wasn’t in my life, I’d be three houses down, at Kirsten’s place, laughing and drinking and socializing with all the other stragglers. One of the best kept secrets in LA is how fun it is when the rest of the city clears out for the holidays. The streets aren’t crowded, there’s no traffic, it takes no time to get to the ocean, the temperature is perfect for hiking, and best of all, we don’t have to fuck with LAX or the Trader Joe’s parking lot.
This was the first Thanksgiving I felt isolated. After we ate, I walked Perci and stood outside Kirsten’s house. I looked through her window and watched all the people at her table—living, laughing, and loving.
We took a few edibles after the walk and my parents did their semi-annual Facetime call.
“Happy Thanksgiving! I hope you guys are eating well!” my Mom said.
“If you’re not doing anything for Christmas you should come down to Jacksonville,” my Dad suggested. My parents are snowbirds, who leave Alaska every winter to live in their house in Florida. One of my sisters and her husband live in the guest house.
“Thanks for the offer, but we are going on a big European adventure for two weeks over Christmas,” I told my parents. “But I work remotely, so we can come out in the beginning of December if that’s cool.”
“We’ll be here, and would love to see you guys.”
As soon as we got off the call, the edibles hit, and I purchased two tickets to Jacksonville.
Ashley and I were taking this shit show on the road. Also, I needed my sister Ilaura to help me get to the bottom of the Ashley mystery.
This whole series is becoming one of the most riveting books I've read in a while, and I'm studying the Cold War and espionage. It also makes me regret never writing about the most complex, insane relationship I ever had. She and I had so much in common, both bisexual and aspiring opera singers and poets and for three years our own little insane folie a deux. She was literally the smartest person I've ever known and the most manipulative, yet today is living her life as a voice teacher and mom in the suburban Midwest, with a very attentive husband who, despite being clearly brilliant in his own right, likely has no idea who he's dealing with. But. She'd probably sue me. Not that you needed to know any of that. BUT YOU'RE SO GOOD I FEEL COMPELLED TO SHARE, LAUREN.
That dead dog on the side of the road is such a good metaphor