There's a knock
on the door around 10pm, and I think it's Ethan.
Hurray, he's started to be spontaneous just like I always wished
he would be. You know, like how they do it in all the movies and TV shows
you see. Not a phone call,
a knock at the door. You
open it, and there they are on the other side, looking impossibly
beautiful and sad and lost, or maybe not sad and lost but impossibly
beautiful and maybe anxious, because they've been thinking of you, and
they just can't rest until they get to you, the thought of you
propelling their every move. Oh
yippee. If he can start
doing this, then he can start talking, it's gonna be fine, fine, fine,
just like how I wanted it to be. I
throw open the door, and it's Ashley.
If she notices
any strange look on my face that she's not my real life TV show
embodiment, she doesn't show it. She says she's got great news, and we gotta go.
I think she must've got some huge part in a pilot or indie movie
some distant relative must have died (close enough to leave her
a buttload of money, not close enough to be incapacitated with
grief to spend it.), I think a billion things, and why it's not
the one she tells me is completely beyond me.
It would be so obvious to anybody else watching if it was
my TV show. But no,
it's not until she shoves her left hand underneath my nose and
that huge rock just sparkles evilly up at me that I get it.
I get it. I
get it now.
engaged!" she squeals.
I stare dumbly at the rock on her hand like it's a
cockroach. Or a
wart. Or an extra
finger, waving at half mast.
It looks so alien, resting on her hand.