"What is that godawful smell?" Jayden lifted his gaze from the gigantic 54-inch Plasma TV screen on which the letters Call of Duty beckoned with its display of weaponry and bloodshed.
Aw, shucks! The boyfriend robber strikes again!
Jayden was in that I'd love to go out and socialize, but I rather stay home and play 12 hours of video games mode.
"Something..." he grunted as his widened nostrils gave him cute monkey-like features. "Something reeks!"
"Something reeks? Hey, maybe it's you, Jay-Jay." I loved teasing him, and I was not programmed to nag. "You did forget to shower today. And, if I may say so, you haven't changed your footwear since yesterday. Your Duty call did not seem to direct you to the bathroom." I pointed at the black tips of his formerly white sporty socks.
Mushy Cheerios and dried up raisins made hot sweet love on our living room floor, leaving a dubious trail up to his stinky foot.
This place wasn't just a mess—it was a friggin' disaster zone.
If one viewed it as an obstacle course designed to keep us both fit...
Or to make someone who tried to kill us trip over something and die...
It was kind of okay?
"No, it's not my socks. Not this time..." Jayden sniffed around like a well trained bloodhound. "The stench is coming from the kitchen!"
Realization struck me with its pudgy fist. "Oh no! Our dinner!" I facepalmed, leaping off my feet, tossing the tablet with the sketches on the side.
When I reached the place of a culinary disaster, quite a sight pounced on me, having been lying in wait.
Charred, carbonized remains of my culinary wonder, my honey-glazed carrots, lay shriveled and scorched in the roasting pot, emanating curly black smoke and a vomit-inducing stench.
"Our supper suffered a not-so-spontaneous combustion!" I yelled out the information, keeping at a safe distance from the incinerated legumes.
"Hey, that's okay. No worries. We can always order takeout. I'm in a mood for some pizza, if you are, babe!" Jayden bellowed back from the living room.
Pizza?
Far from my soul food, yet edible.
He was vying for the shortcut. As always.
While I wished to actually try and create something. A healthier option?
A memory of a once-upon-a-time orange veggie on a certain train waved at me somewhere from the furthest corner of my mind.
Burnt carrots don't look like a healthier option to me.
Besides, come on, Iris? You? Cook? Don't make me laugh.
I shooed the inner-Jayden thought and schlepped the carrot urn all the way to the living room, plowing my feet through the tidal wave of objects that littered the floor.
The whole apartment resembled a more modern, more expansive, and more expensive version of a...
Pigsty.
Not even a square centimeter of the once-bright red living room carpet peeked out from under the domestic detritus.
Tiptoeing my way across the crowded floor, I bypassed several Nike underpants, sweaty Lacoste t-shirts, and a pair of smelly Lewis jeans.
Gross! But I didn't want to be a part of a Jayden makes mess-I clean up-rinse and repeat scheme anymore.
That's why I had performed a test drive. I wanted to see how long he would endure without me tidying up after him, and finally pick stuff by himself.
It was a trick I had picked up on a reddit forum from several girl friends who had the same problem with their sloppy boyfriends.
It hadn't worked so far.
Jayden was standing hunched over my drawing tablet as I entered the living room. He froze when he saw I came back.
His fingers swiped the screen as fast as they had been pressing his PS4 controller buttons moments ago.
The blurry, familiar elements of my illustrations whooshed over the screen.
Curly hairdo.
Wavy hairdo.
Fifty shades of brown hairdo.
Aquiline nose.
Pinocchio nose.
Greco-Roman nose.
Human ears.
Elvin ears.
Bunny ears.
Only the smile remained ever the same.
Sweet, kind, and admiring.
"Jay-Jay..." I clutched the unfortunate pan so hard my fingers hurt from the effort.
"What's this?" He waved the tablet at me and didn't even seem to register the charred carrots.
"They are just some sketches for my elf protagonist... For the Fairy Tails project. Remember the one you tried to pitch to your dad in January? You know how I love doodling on the train." I gulped, depositing the carrot urn on the used-to-be-yellow coffee table with care.
Why did my voice sound weird?
Almost... deflective?
Was I afraid of his reaction?
Jayden frowned at the bunny-eared, hastily-drawn vignette and I realised he must have recognised it. "Hey, wait a second... Don't I know this guy? Isn't he that... That train crush of yours?"
"Oh, um..." I fiddled with my Tardis key necklace. "Yep. That's him. I did see him often, you know. He just seemed like the easiest choice. In drawing, it's important to have the subject of your sketching before your eyes. No other passenger..."
"That imp? You can't be serious. What, are you obsessed with him or something?" Jayden guffawed, hurling the tablet back on the sofa.
"Hey, watch it, Jay Jay!" I hurried to the device, cradled it among my palms and gave it a careful once-over. "You know I have so many model projects on there!"
"Look, Iris..." Jayden took a deep breath. "Have you ever wondered whether you are perhaps wasting time and energy on these... drawings?"
The question raised an axe and struck me amidst my heart.
"Wh... What?" I stuttered.
"Well, you know, it's... It's been so many years, and you still haven't managed to... make a breakthrough. I pulled some strings, but it wasn't enough. You spend more and more time in that fantasy world of yours. I hardly ever see you. And when you are at home, drawing, it's like you're not... not really here."
That fantasy world of mine?
The axe carved its way a little deeper.
How could he say that?
Had he stopped believing in me?
I always believed in him, and his dreams!
That one and many more angry sentences that would initiate conflict hung about my lips.
They did not cross my tongue.
My gaze lingered on one of Mr. Ruffles' sketches instead.
Would he believe in me if I showed him my work?
He might like them.
Might smile at the idea.
And his smile magic would be a feel-good magic.
I shook my head. Mr. Ruffles was a stranger I'd never know.
My man stood right next to me, glowering at the sofa, his lower lip pushed forward.
*He* should be my feel-good magic.
Except that he wasn't.
"Jayden, I hardly ever see you, too. And we live under the same roof. Wouldn't it be nice if we did something together? Even if it were cooking, or cleaning our apartment?" I placed a special accent on our.
"Oh come on, Iris. Where's the fun in that? Cooking? Cleaning? That's for chefs and cleaning ladies. And, by the way? This mess?" He motioned around the room. "She will clean it up when she comes."
Time is money. Those who have money convert it into time, Jayden had always said.
"I don't need to do those menial jobs. I go to restaurants. I get my apartment cleaned. You know I've always been like that." His voice softened as he laid his hand on my shoulder.
He was right. He had always been like that.
Perhaps I was the one in the wrong, hoping that he would change. Expecting it, even.
"You... you have." I whispered back at him. "And I have always been like this," I gestured at myself.
"And I love you for it, babe." Jayden seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he came up to me for an embrace.
I stiffened within it.
"Do you?" I didn't want to sound accusatory but I needed to know. "Do you love the real me? Maybe what you liked was just an exotic flower? Once plucked, you imprisoned it in the garden, put a fence around it?"
"What are you even saying, Iris? I swear I don't understand you when you go on about it like that. Yes. We are different. So? It's part of the charm of our relationship." Jayden scratched his nape.
"What if our difference enthralled you at first..." I swallowed and caressed his sweaty cheek. "And as time passed by, you tried to mold me according to your expectations? Iris, do this? Iris, don't do that? I thought you'd warm up to the idea of me being as I am."
"We have talked about this before, babe. When I do or say those things, I'm just giving you advice. I'm just looking out for you."
"Maybe we are both wrong, Jayden. Perhaps you are waiting for me to change, and I am waiting for you to change. But can we? Should we? Try to change each other? Maybe this isn't..."
The unspoken ending of the sentence loomed over us like a poisonous cloud.
"Don't be like this, huh, babe?" He lifted my chin up. "It's just a bunch of stupid burnt carrots anyway. I know what to do to make my girl feel good again." His left hand snuck under my blouse, seeking the ultimate prize, as his right one cupped my buttocks.
"I'm not in the mood right now," I whispered back, pushing him away.
"Whatever," Jayden scoffed, and slumped back on the sofa. He picked up his smudged phone. "What kind of pizza do you want?"
"The usual. Four Cheese." I muttered on autopilot, still staring at our former dinner.
Jayden had said they were just a bunch of stupid carrots.
But were they?
The carrots stared back at me from the pan without saying a word.
As charred as our relationship.
Burnt out, at the end of their journey.
Overcooked. No longer edible.
No life spark or energy in them, whatsoever.
Jayden's eyes that once held so much adoration for me, were now glazed over.
His hypnotized head turned in the direction of the screen yet again.
Video games represented a constant challenge and promised victory.
Perhaps that was why so many guys liked them.
Once you completed one, there was always another one and another one to delve into.
To explore its every nook and cranny. To come out as a victor. The bearer of a trophy.
Was I just a trophy to Jayden?
A video game to complete, to put a tick next to its name, to deposit on the shelf once he had done so?
I glanced at the De Prisco diamond ring.
Was it a GAME OVER symbol?