*The following is a fictitious story. Sorta.
It all started because of a break-up. Not mine, but some friends. Ashley and Alyssa, a lesbian couple that taught me where the line stood between love and hate. We had many evenings together that started out innocent enough, a booze fueled romp. However, the nights often ended with them either fighting, or fucking.
At the time, I had been living at my residence for only a month. My home was nothing to be proud of. The landlord, Job, was Marx’s worst nightmare. A private property owner that acquired cheap mortgages on low income housing. Instead of using the profits to fix up the properties, he used it on whiskey and his shitty White-Boy-Blues-Band. He would hold a straight lipped glare, as we complained about inhaling black mold, storm windows that would fall on our heads as we slept, and the smell of cat piss that lingered throughout the house like a fog. I lived with two other people. Julia, a 20 yr. old blonde country girl that blew me and fucked me, upon her first week living there and Aaron, a 28 yr. old classic nerd that loved Pokemon. If not for him having a child, I would’ve declared him a virgin. Overall they were nice people.
I didn’t own a car. So, on my days off from work I would take long walks throughout the city. There was a pond I was partial to, often spending countless minutes there admiring the lily-pads and fidgety squirrels. I happened to be at this pond when my phone rang. A typical frustration for me because A. I hate talking on the phone and B. I was attempting to take a picture of a dead bird. It was revealed because the snow had melted. It looked beautiful, rotting, a fresh corpse before the flies laid their eggs and declared it a nursery. I was squatting by the corpse when the camera sequence was interrupted by ‘Call From Ashtizle’ flashing across the screen. I pressed ‘Ignore’ only to have the peace interrupted by another ‘Call From Ashtizzle.’ This time I answered.
“What?!” I asked annoyed.
“Alyssa and I broke up…” The conversation paused. I could hear Alyssa screaming in the background “he’s going to say no!” Ashley’s voice came back, this time a little softer. “And well…we’re breaking the lease and leaving the apartment, I am going to stay at my mom’s..but Alyssa…she…she..”
I interrupted. “She needs a place to stay?”
Ashley laughed. “Yes, exactly.”
I looked out on the pond. The last remnants of winter displayed in the contorted chunks of ice that floated near the shore. Two ducks landed in the water. Once they anchored, ripples stretched from their bodies causing the ice to teeter. I assumed they were a mating couple. For the male remained close to the female, as if he was protecting her.
“So…is that a yes?” Ashley asked.
“Sorry, I am distracted by some ducks.” I said. “I heard that some mallards mate for life. Do you think that’s true?”
Ashley sighed into the receiver. “I don’t fucking know! You going to let her stay there or what?”
I smiled. “Yes, when will you guys be there?”
“In about an hour.”
“Alright, sounds good.”
The phone went silent. As I turned my back to the ducks, I could hear them flying away, quacking their love song to the Earth below.
Ashley and Alyssa’s M.O. was that they were always late. So, when they said an hour I assumed it would be three. Of course the time they decided to be prompt, was when they wanted away from each other’s company. I was sitting in my living room, alone, eating a pizza in my underwear when the doorbell rang. There was no hiding because windows surrounded me. So I took those awkward steps, opened the door and showed off my naked, hairy, legs.
“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” Ashley asked.
I scratched the back of my neck. “Wasn’t expecting you guys already.”
“We said an hour.”
“Yeah, well, an hour usually means three for you guys!”
Alyssa stood on the porch smoking a cigarette. The smell of burning tobacco flooded the living room.
“Well, are you going to put some pants on and help us?” Ashley said.
“Yes, just give me a minute. You guys can start loading stuff into the basement.”
I sprinted to my room. When I walked out, this time with pants on, Ashley and Alyssa were strolling past with boxes in their hands.
“Smells like cat piss in here.” Alyssa commented.
“Ehhh, you get used to it.” I said.
We spent the next 20 minutes un-loading Ashley’s car. After we placed the final box in the basement, we walked up the stairs to the front-door. The two girls hugged and kissed one last time. As Ashley left I could swear she whispered:
“She’s your problem now.”
But maybe that’s my memory failing me, or rather being guided by the events that were to follow. For what became of the summer was enough sex, drugs and betrayal it would prompt anyone to start a blog…to put it into perspective.