As Fate Would Have It

by Michael Louis Calvillo

  Ashley filed Montgomery’s business card in a nearby junk drawer and tried her best to pass the time thinking about nothing.

  The doldrums followed her for the rest of the day. She was excited to get home to Henry for a little commiseration. The withdrawals had hit him harder than they had her and what she went through was nightmarish to say the least. There were a few rocky patches where she thought he might not make it. Alas, they persevered and they were all the stronger for it. Ashley was super proud of her Henry for sticking to his guns.

  On the way home from work she stopped at Albertson’s and picked up a twelve pack of Henry’s favorite beer, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale, and a few groceries to whip up a nice dinner. There was no telling if the meal she planned – chicken fajitas – was going to go over. One of the major problems with detoxification was the lack of appetite. Over the past six days they both ate little more than Apple Jacks and a slice of bread here or there. It was important to ramp up the sustenance a bit. If their bodies were to kick completely and fully recover they had to eat a whole lot more. Hopefully the fajitas would get the ball rolling.

  Since Henry had the time off Ashley was sure she would find him watching TV, playing his video game, or sleeping on the couch. Upon entering the apartment she was surprised to find the couch vacant and the television switched off.

  “Henry?” She dropped her stuff on their feeble dining table and made for the bedroom.

  The lazy bastard was still in bed.

  Ordinarily, in any other situation, under any other set of circumstances, Ashley would have been pissed. She was still kind of irritated, but she had to talk herself down. They just quit a year and a half long heroin habit. Henry had just signed a substantial recording contract. He wasn’t a slouch sleeping away the day any longer – he was a Bona Fide artist. All things considered, his rest was earned. Lucky fucker.

  For the first time today she felt like herself. A smile spread across her face and she moved toward the bed to wake up her man.

  She got about two steps in when she noticed the dragon inlaid stash box on the bedside table closest to Henry. Its lid was open. Ashley moved a little closer. Paraphernalia littered the table around the box. There was a spoon, a lighter, a syringe and a few used cotton balls.

  “Motherfucker,” she seethed.

  Turning, she took a few strides back toward the bedroom door and then flicked on the light switch. Henry didn’t move. Ashley ran up beside the bed and stood over him. His closed eyelids didn’t so much as flinch. He was tucked into a fetal position; eyes shut tight, his mouth a blank line. There was still a tourniquet wrapped around his right arm.

  “Henry?” It came out firm, laced with anger.

  Nothing.

  She peered in closer. Was his stomach moving? Was he…

  Instantly the world went swimmy. Ashley felt her heart drop. The pulsing little bastard palpitated and twisted and grew a mean set of gnarly spikes. Sharp pains radiated outward and her chest felt like it was filling with acid, burning fire swelled from the inside out.

  She pictured herself walking naked through a barren wasteland. Death clung to the landscape. Twisted trees, crumbling with decay peppered the dry, cracked earth. The sky was a sick, muted gray. All life had been extinguished. There was nothing left save for her ever-thinking mind and that pestering, consuming, irrevocably looping thought: everyone you love will die eventually.

  Everyone you love will die eventually.

  Everyone you love will die eventually.

  Shaking it off, Ashley leaned in close and placed a shaky hand on Henry’s forehead. The skin was a bit clammy, but not as cold as she expected.

  “Ash?” His voice came slow and dumb as did a long, drugged up stretch. Ashley stood back with her hands on her hips. The gathering remorse instantly fizzled. The fear, the loathing, the spiraling death fix, all dried and burned to ash beneath a rapidly rising anger.

  “Motherfucker,” she seethed for the second time. The follow up roared from her mouth like an infernal beast. “You weak motherfucker!”

  Henry’s eyes widened and his movements quickened. He sat up and held a hand out in entreaty. Unfortunately it did nothing to stave off the impending wrath – the scarf he used to tie off dangled from his bicep tauntingly.

  There were no words. Ashley was livid beyond the point of intelligible speech. She couldn’t believe he would trash all of their hard work, all of the pain they endured. A relapse already? After they just got themselves out of the woods? How freaking stupid could one man be?

  Henry stood clumsily and tried to offer some sort of explanation. “Burrito stopped by and… Well, I didn’t fix with him. I told him we were done. But he left a little behind and I figured–”

  Figured? Left a little behind? Figured?

  Ashley felt like she was going insane. The words didn’t process, such was the red, red, red fury entombing her brain. Louder than she ever screamed before, veins popping, eyes bulging, blood rushing, she pointed toward the hallway and let fly, “GET THE FUCK OUT!!!!!”

  “But, Ash?” His eyes were pathetic. Sorrowful and guilty and feeble.

  “I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT!” The volume remained punishing and forceful as hell.

  Head down, Henry stumbled out. When he crossed the threshold Ashley slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Fucking loser,” she whispered to herself before breaking down and silently sobbing an ocean of tears.

  The idiot tried for hours. He was persistent, Ashley had to give him that, but Henry could hold vigil outside their bedroom door for an eternity as far as she was concerned. There was no way this was going to be resolved quickly and cleanly.

  What in the world was he thinking?

  There were no satisfactory excuses. They both knew this was something she wanted for a long time. They made it through the worst. How could he be so weak?

  How could he–

  They both knew this was something she wanted for a long time.

  But not Henry?

  Ashley knew she couldn’t force someone to change. She didn’t want someone to change just for her. She wanted this particular someone to want to change as well. Reflection tried to creep in and force her to consider all angles, but anger trumped it. Fuck that, this wasn’t a matter of control or want; it was a matter of health and future mining. If Henry couldn’t let go they couldn’t be together. Simple as that. It took her a solid year and a half to figure it out, but there was no way she was going back to using. And she couldn’t be with someone that was.

  So ultimatum #1: If they were going to work this out he had to quit. Period.

  After Ashley broke their syringes, stuffed them back into the stash box and then buried the paraphernalia in their messy bedroom closet she put on her pajamas and tried to sleep everything off. She figured she would let Henry suffer the night and then open the lines of communication in the morning for apologies and decrees and what not (depending upon how she felt of course). Unfortunately, sleep teased, dawning then fleeing, elusive and aggravating. All the while, the infuriating notion that he was less than honest with her wouldn’t let up. It hurt fiercely. It throbbed within her stomach like a physical force, a cancerous malady that made her grit her teeth and wrinkle her face in frustration. The dishonesty, him fixing without so much as giving her a call, made their potential all the more iffy and scary. She was sure she could get him to promise to never do heroin again, but what did it matter if he just was just going to lie to her and do it anyway? It didn’t help that he was going on tour for four months.

  Ultimatum #2: As far as she knew Henry never lied to her. A small thing here, a small thing there perhaps, no harm, no foul, but doing that which was forbidden, which was imperative to their well-being was too much to handle. She couldn’t believe he didn’t at least call and ask, or shit, if he was ballsy enough, call and tell. Instead he snuck and then tried to act like it was no big deal. If they were to continue as planned, a life together forever, there could be no lying. Everything
had to be straight up.

  The alarm clock blared to life and Ashley begrudgingly opened her eyes. She wanted to hit the snooze and fall back into the sanctity of dreamless slumber, but CHAOS opened in an hour and she had to get to it. Sleep claimed her after a few hours of stewing and it was good to finally succumb. This was the second night in a row that she slept hard and purposefully. Perhaps she was lucky. Perhaps her body chemistry was the type to defy the insomnia that generally rode recovering heroin addicts for weeks upon months following the horrid withdrawal process.

  Whereas sleep did her a world of good, it did nothing to even out the anger. She was still royally pissed at Henry and wasn’t ready to talk to him. After getting dressed for work she got her things together and prepared to rush through the apartment and out the door. She wanted to avoid Henry at all costs. Luckily he was sleeping. She had to step over him as he was curled up fetal by the bedroom door (which was equal parts cute and pathetic). Other than that brief leap, she managed to make it to the car with zero interaction.

  CHAOS was dead and Ashley was able to soak in the down time, pull up a stool and read through the latest issue of SPIN. The more she tried to concentrate on the latest music news, the more her brain refused to let her focus.

  She had to talk to Henry.

  She didn’t want to talk to Henry.

  He betrayed her and she needed some more time. It sucked, because normally she would be able to vent to Heather before ironing out the kinks in hers and Henry’s relationship. Now that she was gone there was nobody to talk to. It was kind of sad. Ashley never really paid it much mind. She liked having one best friend and one love, but now that one was (probably) dead (certainly) and the other was an asshole she had nobody. Her mom moved across the country a few years ago and she didn’t know where her dad was. Besides, she never talked to them anyway save for a time or two a year. Other than that there was nobody. Absolutely nobody. Her only other friends were Henry’s friends and they weren’t really her friends, they were acquaintances who happened to be friends with her boyfriend.

  If she were to try and deepen one of those friendships Henry would go apeshit. If she had any male friends he would–

  Ashley dug through the junk drawer besides the cash register until she procured Montgomery’s business card.

  Revenge was wrong, but revenge felt right.

  But Henry would be soooo pissed.

  But it would be nice to talk to somebody. She had been meaning to call the cook, um chef, ever since their last meeting just to touch base and see if he had heard anything about Heather. But when she was on heroin and her emotions swung like a pendulum she obsessed over his possible guilt, over his possible involvement. Now, clear (well sort of), it all seemed so stupid. He was nothing but nice and gentlemanly the three times she encountered him – picking up on Heather he was polite albeit nervous, when Ashley broke down crying after following him he was kind and asked if she was okay, and then his visit to CHAOS to get to the bottom of things ended amicably with an invitation to lunch even.

  Maybe she would take him up on his offer.

  Just a lunch.

  She felt like she would go crazy without a little outside companionship.

  Yet she didn’t want to open a can of worms either. On the surface Ashley’s intentions were nothing but noble, friends with a common interest (Heather) should be able to get together and talk, but Montgomery was cute.

  He was tall.

  He was successful and Ashley was pretty sure he was interested.

  He wasn’t on drugs.

  He was definitely a catch.

  He was dangerous because a friendly lunch could easily turn into something more.

  Though she hated, absolutely hated Henry for what he did, she still loved him and they weren’t anywhere near over. Unless of course he couldn’t quit.

  Unless…

  These thoughts went round and round and Ashley felt alternately guilty and empowered, ashamed and justified. The strongest feeling though, the one that won out and had her dialing the phone was one of restlessness. There was a fire within to get things off her chest, even in a subdued, vague, empty conversation with a near stranger. While the line rang she argued with herself that she could have the same empty, meaningless conversation with Errol or perhaps an unlucky customer who tried to chat her up, but compulsion drove her on despite.

  Montgomery picked up on the fourth ring. “Hell-o?”

  Ashley wasn’t sure what to say. She was nervous and uncertain of this rash decision. What did she hope to accomplish? This wasn’t like her. Why was she courting trouble? The heroin left a hole that needed to be filled–

  Montgomery repeated, “Hell-o?”

  “Hey.” It came out too fast and weird.

  “Hey?” His voice echoed her response slowly, with confusion. “Who is this?”

  “It’s Ashley.”

  There was a slight pause. “Ashley?”

  “Yeah. Ashley. Heather’s crazy friend that followed your car.”

  All at once his voice relaxed and seemed to fill with interest, “Ashley! How have you been? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  And they were off. The conversation went easy and it satisfied Ashley’s desire to simply talk. She didn’t talk about what was really bugging her, but she was able to talk just the same. Of course they began with Heather, Montgomery expressing his condolences and showing a bit more of that gentlemanly nature, but before things got too mopey he changed the subject and small talked her about CHAOS records and his restaurant and the general crap two people that don’t know one another talked about.

  “So how about that lunch?” At a lull in the conversation he managed to pick up right where he left off months and months back.

  Ashley wasn’t sure what to make of this. The moment the question came out she felt a little creepy. But she had to remind herself it was her that called him. He probably figured she was interested in him.

  “Lunch sounds nice, but I work days. Perhaps–”

  Her mind raced. This was interesting but it was time to blow him off and stop orchestrating these stupid, pointless mind games. What the hell was she doing?

  “How about dinner then?”

  Think fast. Think fast. Think fast. “When?”

  “Tonight. I’ll meet you at that pizza place a few stores down from your work.”

  “Tonight?”

  “If you can make it.”

  Every fiber in her body thought it was a bad idea, well every fiber in her body but the few vindictive ones that were still pissed. The prospect of making Henry crazy for one more night suddenly seemed like a good plan. “Okay. Is nine alright? I get off at six and want to rush home to freshen up.” It all felt weird coming out, as if she was on auto-pilot.

  “Perfect.”

  Trouble abounds.

  There was no suppressing the guilt. Applying her make up in the bathroom, trying to keep an open mind, Ashley didn’t think she could go through with it. She couldn’t go out on a date with somebody. Who was she kidding? It did feel good to watch Henry squirm though. The moment she walked in the door he followed her around like an over eager puppy apologizing and making promises and patting himself on the back for resisting the heroin pull all day long.

  “I’m done Ashley. Forever. For you.” And then he would try and lock her up with an intense stare.

  It was all very transparent and foolish (but adorable at the same time). Ashley wanted to break down and laugh at him, call him a dork and then make up, but he needed to ache a little longer. His transgression was super serious. He had to realize that this kind of thing couldn’t happen ever again.

  When she told him she was going out there was genuine alarm in his eyes. He began firing off questions, “With who? Where? What’s going on?” and Ashley had to kick him out of the bathroom and lock the door behind her to keep from buckling and soothing over his fears. The pain was a bitch but it was necessary.

  All dolled up and ready to go she still was
n’t sure if she was going to meet Montgomery at Perfect Pizza. She was definitely going to go out and screw with Henry, but maybe she would just go to a movie instead. Things could get too messy if she met up with another man. But then again, if she stood him up Montgomery would definitely get in touch with her. She was smart enough not to give him her phone number or address or anything like that, but he knew where she worked.

  Ashley hit the closet and found a nice purse to match her outfit and then made for the door. She remained cold and aloof and called, “Bye,” behind her as she opened the door to leave.

  Before she could get one foot in front of the other Henry pounced. He grabbed her by the arm and forced her back inside and then slammed the front door and threw the deadbolt.

  “Asshole!” Ashley’s arm smarted from where he yanked her.

  If he thought he could stop her with force he had another thing coming. She was getting ready to put an escape plan into action when he turned toward her and let out a huge sigh. He looked scared and odd, so much so that the fury rising within died and concern furrowed Ashley’s brow.

  Henry sighed big again and then dropped to his knees before her.

  “Hen–”

  “Wait.” He cut her off and then reached into his back pocket and brought out a little black box.

  Oh God. That was her first thought. Oh God.

  “Ash, I’m not so great at this kind of thing, but a few months ago, right after I got my advance, I went to the stupid fucking mall and I bought this.” He raised the box above his head with two hands and angled it toward her. In a quick motion he snapped open the lid and the most beautiful diamond ring she had ever seen glinted at her from the velvety cushy confines of the little case.

  She felt light headed. They hardly ever talked about marriage. Occasionally she supposed, but Ashley always figured they would be one of those rock star couples that just lived together forever.

  Was she happy?

  Hell yes. It was a completely wonderful and unexpected gesture. She wanted to be with him for the rest of her life and that he went through the trouble to do something special, something so anti-Henry, just for her, meant worlds and worlds.