Ambrosia

3

I am swimming in my pool, that my pulitzer prize helped to build. The sun is bright and warm on my skin, my hair floats like algae and I'm trying to forget the conversation we had this morning.

- Ambrosia it would be reeeally cool if you showed up today, it's like a barbecue.

- Yeah well a barbecue that's so glamorous that you have to bring your trophy wife, a barbecue where they give champagne in glasses made for that. I'm not in the mood for anything fancy.

- Just an hour please ? You can make the mayor's wife crazy with that new dress of yours.

I roll my eyes. That's what's it's all about : show your shiny thing to a reception. I already went to the one when she were endorsed by the Mayor, a poll is not important.

- Why do you want to be mayor of Dumbville anyways ? You said we would live here three years tops then go back to Los Angeles. Where you picked me up. My place Becks.

- I know but I feel I can be a good politician if I put my brain - and yours -in it ! You already accomplished so much with your Pulitzer and your Peabody -

- I won't have the Peabody, The New York Times poll that you don't bother to read noted like crap. I can't win a Peabody with that, let alone wipe my ass with it.

She sighs like she always sighs when I'm giving her a hard time. A sigh to obliterate any thoughts of killing me this instant, a sigh that means « what I'm gonna say next is important, listen or I'll punish you ».

- Okay that's why you don't wanna go to my party, it's because it would be a pity party for you, she chuckles.

My eyes turn red, I look at her with a face that would defrost all of glaciers, and I go to the leaving room, my hair undone, in pajama pants.

- Sometimes Becks I hate you, and I feel like the sentiment is mutual.

I don't want an answer, I want to storm out of the room majestically and make her think back on her mistakes.

So she sighs again, dresses up in Gucci for « the barbecue » and leaves me, shutting the door behind her without an another word for me. Another win for me, and maybe a new diamond ring, if I play it along.

But now I'm not so sure. I'm naked in the pool with a popsicle in my mouth and my sunglasses. Suddenly my stomach feels torn up, like an indigestion. But I know it's a bad feeling. I can feel it in my guts some people say. Well my gut was telling me something really bad.

I jumped off the pool and I called Rebecca, only to get the cold voice saying her phone was off. I was cold, and goosebumps was running through my skin. It felt like someone spying on me.

Call incoming. From Rebbecca. I answer instantly.

- Are you okay ?

- Um I don't think I can drive hon.. honey.

- Too many champagne ?

- Too many martinis. Open bar. Come and get me, my Ambrosia salad.

I say nothing, why would she say that when she knows how much I hate it.

- I'm sorry my baby I didn't mean it. Come get me and let's eat takeout.

- Roh okay. But don't puke on my seats. And drink water.

In the end there was no win for me, no diamond ring. Only puke and tears of regret where Beck's the love of my life points everything wrong that she does, blacks out and doesn't remember a thing the next morning.

——————-

She's asleep in our king size bed, snoring lightly, like a baby, her eyes shut and she's at peace. I remember that I use to look at her sleeping for hours, reading every exprès on her face while she was dreaming... Her smile, the way she frowned when she was distraught, her sentences that were like a code that I amused myself to decode...

Now I'm realizing that I don't want to look at her, so peaceful after what she did to me. What she does to me every day. I'm realizing all the wrinkles starting to form on her otherwise beautiful face.

I put a blanket on her and very softly i whisper :

- I don't think I love you anymore.