Veggie Burgers
“And like. Fine!” She paused, grabbing a carton of milk and glancing at the expiration date before she dropped it in her cart. “Fine! We’ve probably all done things that we don’t really deserve to be forgiven for! I will still love you if you cannot believe I’ve changed! But, God, and this is what irritates me, Ashley, is that if they really won’t believe I’m not that person anymore, then why won’t they let me love them as a memory and not a constant reminder of how I hurt them? Why still call me? Why go out of your way to stop by, invite yourself in, and then what?”
As she ended her sentence, she realized she was hitting the handle of her cart for emphasis and grimaced. Ashley was still quiet, just breathing on the line, and Ilexa couldn’t help but fill the space, though a little less emphatically now, and with her hands firmly (too firmly) gripping the shopping cart.
“I don’t know what they want me to say, Ash. Like — I’m sorry? I am sorry! I’ve said it so many times that the meaning has bled from the words, and I’ve bent over backwards for years to be anything they asked of me, and if what they really need is just an emotional punching bag, I’ll be that, too, but damn, does that really make them any better than me in the end?”
“You’re not a bad person, Ilexa, but maybe — “ Ashley trailed off, and Ilexa reached up to reposition her AirPod, making sure she was still on the line.
“You there? Can you hear me?”
Ashley sighed. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Should I get veggie burgers or normal burgers?”
“The normal ones. You’ll just let the veggie ones go bad in your fridge.”
“You’re so right.” Ilexa opened up the freezer and grabbed a box of veggie burgers, and then stood, watching the glass window frost over as it hung open in the fluorescent lights.
“You just got the veggie ones anyway, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Ilexa groaned, and slumped over her cart, pushing it slowly, meanderingly around the corner and down the snack aisle. At the far end, two men were having a hushed conversation over various bags of popcorn. She stopped, turning to look along the shelves for saltines. Over the phone, she could hear Ashley humming quietly. In the corner of her vision, she saw the men make a decision and put most of the bags in their basket, returning just two to the shelf. The shorter one kissed the taller on the cheek and then walked around the corner, towards the register. The taller followed him, smiling to himself. Over the phone, Ilexa heard water running.
“You going to bed, Ashley?”
“Yeah,” she said, her voice sounding distorted, “just brushing my teeth. Are you going to be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Ilexa said quietly, slowly starting to walk again. “I mean, I will be. But I just get this feeling that we’re all just … walking each other home in the end, aren’t we? We’re just little voices in the night saying ‘text me when you get home safe.’ I’ll still be here for you, I’ll leave the light on for you, I’ll love you but I won’t let any version of you go — I will love the worst parts of you, but I won’t let you forget them? They don’t want to smooth over all these stupid rough edges, they just want to sharpen them and then remind me how much they hurt. And I get it! I’m — ah, fuck.”
She’d reached the checkout, and the scanner beeped loudly at her. She rolled her eyes and jabbed at the screen until it went mostly silent, her voice punctuated by the occasional ‘ping.’
“Anyway, I get it. I get that I’m probably often not the most fun to be around, I’m probably irritating, I take up a lot of space and whatever. Whatever. It would just be nice not to be a fucking pincushion for once.”
As Ilexa paid, she heard Ashley getting into bed, and when she spoke, her voice was muffled by a pillow.
“You know none of that is true, but you’re not going to listen to me if I tell you, so let me know if you want me to bother. I’m sorry, Ilexa. They suck. And I know you think they don’t, and I know you think you for some reason deserve to be crucified for admittedly bad choices you made when you were eighteen, but you deserve better. Maybe not forgiveness, but at least peace.”
“Do I?” Ilexa stood between the automatic doors, the handles of her over-packed bags digging into her fingers, watching the snow flurries materialize in the cones of light from the street lamps and passing cars.
“Of course you do. I love you, Lex.”
“I love you too, Ash. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Get home safe, okay?”
“Of course.”
The line beeped twice, and then there was just the almost-silence of a winter night. Shifting to readjust the bag that was hanging precipitously off her shoulder, Ilexa stepped out into the street, the slush, and the falling snow.
