The Diary of Lexi Ashford (Lexi Ashford: Part One)

by Jessica Sorensen

  This is the second time I’ve seen a nearly naked man tonight, but this time, it doesn’t make me want to jab my eyeballs out with my fingers.

  I take a moment to discreetly check him out. Yeah, I know he’s my best friend’s boyfriend, but this is the closest I’ve gotten to a shirtless man in a year unless you want to count the cutey with all the tattoos in the gym that I gawk at every day on my way to work. I actually put a stop to walking by that place a couple of months ago after an embarrassing window-licking incident.

  “No one’s eating anyone’s muffins,” Sophie dismisses him. “Lexi just thinks she’s funny.”

  “Lexi is funny”—he winks at her—“especially when she’s trying to talk you into eating muffins.”

  Sophie rolls her eyes, but her lips twitch into a smile. “Anyway, I was just about to tell Lexi the good news.”

  “Yes, you were.” I motion for her to get a move on. “So hurry up already and tell me before I decide to go get some excitement from a muffin.”

  Shaking his head, Flynn chuckles as he walks into the bedroom.

  I grin at a frowning Sophie. “Well, at least he thinks I’m funny.”

  She sighs, but then a smile lights up her face as she sticks out her hand. “Flynn just proposed, and I said yes!” She waggles her fingers, causing the huge-ass diamond to shimmer. “We’re engaged!”

  “Holy shit!” I throw my arms around her and hug her tightly. “I’m so happy for you!”

  I tell myself not to cry, but tears start to stream down my face. Sophie, who’s not a crier at all, calls me a baby, but then she ends up crying, too. She laughs through her tears, completely happy as she babbles on about their wedding plans, how they’re getting a bigger place just outside of the city, and how she wants me to be her Maid of Honor.

  I’m so happy for her. I really am. But deep down, some of my tears are coming from the fact that reality is crashing down on me. I’m so screwed. I know I am.

  Not only does it feel like I’m losing my best friend, but if I don’t get a job that will pay the bills soon, I’m going to have to return to the place I ran away from almost eight years ago, even though I swore I’d never go back.

  Chapter 4

  Two weeks later, the inevitable happens. After getting a job at a fast food place, along with a second job at a grocery store, I still can’t make rent, and my bank account is still being looked into. I have no choice but to call my parents and tell them I’m coming home for a bit. Then, with a heavy heart, I pack up my stuff.

  “Good-bye, sink. Good-bye, floor. Good-bye, couch. You were an ugly, little bastard, but I’ll miss all the drunken talks we had. You were such a great listener.” I pat the couch and step back to give a pageant wave to my apartment, opting to keep the humor going; otherwise, I’m going to lose my shit. “Good-bye, all.”

  “You’re taking this surprisingly well,” Sophie says as she checks around for any remaining boxes.

  Since most of the furniture came with the place, there isn’t a whole lot, just enough boxes and bags to fill up the trunk, the backseat, and the passenger side of my car. It makes me sad that I don’t own much of anything.

  Mental note to self: When I get my life back on track, start buying my own furniture.

  “You know me.” I let my hand fall to my side. “I’d rather laugh until my problems become so much I have a meltdown. Remember the summer of 2014?”

  She shudders as she moves up beside me. “How could I forget?”

  How could anyone forget the summer of 2014? I had found out my then boyfriend, whom I thought I was in love with, was cheating on me. I pretended not to care for almost two months straight, but then, around July, all shit hit the roof after I spotted him one day in a café drinking coffee with the woman he cheated on me with. She was pretty, too: tall, curvy, with perfect hair and flawless skin.

  I ran in and sobbed that I missed him and that I still loved him. Then I pathetically added, “You can’t say that you still don’t love me. I know you do.”

  He looked around at the people gawking at us and his cheeks reddened. “Lexi, we had fun and everything, but that was it. You’re cool and all, but you’re kind of a walking disaster.”

  Okay, I was kind of a disaster—still am—but cool? That word is the bane of my existence and something snapped inside me.

  I threw his coffee in his face then ran back to my place, locked myself in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka, blaring, “I’m Not Okay” by My Chemical Romance over and over again. I stayed that way for two whole days, which wouldn’t have been that bad except I had roommates. Finally, Sophie had Flynn pick the lock so she could get inside and drag me out of my funk.

  “But I’m not okay,” I drunkenly whined as she dragged me to my feet. “Listen to the song. It knows what I’m talking about.”

  “I know you’re not okay,” she said. “You’ve been lying on a bathroom floor that I’m pretty sure no one has ever cleaned, you smell like vomit, and you look like shit.”

  Her bluntness was like a slap across the face, but it did the job. I sucked it up, took a shower, sobered up, and mopped the floor for the first time since I moved in.

  “What am I going to do without you?” I say to Sophie with a heavyhearted sigh.

  “Lexi, you’re only moving a few hours away.” She picks up a garbage bag from off the kitchen floor. “And it’s only temporary. Besides, I think it might be good for you to get a little restart. Your life is so scattered all the time.”

  “It’s not that scattered,” I argue, a little offended. “I’m just going through some stuff. That’s all.”

  “I didn’t say it to upset you, but sometimes”—she pauses, wavering—“you don’t make the best choices, and I don’t think sugar-coating it is going to help you clean up your life.”

  “Hey, sometimes it’s not my fault,” I protest. “Sometimes, stuff just happens, like the rent thing. Not my fault.”

  “You could’ve checked your bank account more,” she says, setting the garbage bag by the front door. “And that thing with the guy and the birds; I told you not to give him money.”

  “But his birds were starving. I felt so bad for him. And he had that glass eye that wouldn’t focus on anything. It was so sad and confused the birds. They kept flying away from him.”

  “Honey, I don’t know what the eye thing has to do with this, but those birds were stray pigeons. He didn’t need the money to feed them. He played you.”

  “Okay … but that was one time. It’s not like I do stuff like that all the time.”

  Her brows elevate. “What about the woman you gave money to who was making the largest quilt with toilet paper?”

  I let my head fall back, grunting in frustration. “She seemed like a go-getter, and it sounded like a cool project. Plus, she was nice and picked up that candy bar I dropped.”

  She sighs. “You trust people too much, like Max. I knew that guy was using you, but you only saw what you wanted to.”

  “Okay, I’ll admit I knew Max was a douchebag, but the rest of the stuff…” I shrug. “I like helping people out, okay? I’ve been that weirdo with dreams before. Only, instead of a toilet paper quilt, mine was getting out of Hellville.” I sink down onto a barstool. “What if I move back there, and my soul is sucked lifeless, and I never leave? Because that’s what Hellville does to you. People who live there will always live there, and nothing exciting ever happens. I’ll probably die of boredom.”

  “That’s not true.” Amusement glimmers in her eyes. “What about all those contests they have? I mean, come on. The annual Making a Dress out of Ribbons contest? That sounds like potential excitement. And the Shining Unicorn Collecting Cult? You could always join that. Didn’t you say they had their meetings at your mom’s house?”

  “It’s the Shimmering Unicorn Collection Cult,” I correct her, biting back a grin. “And you know I’m too flaky to make a commitment to a cult.”

  “Well, I’m sure they’re not really a cult,” she say
s. “Just a bunch of women who like unicorns.”

  “I don’t know about that. They had these super exclusive meetings in my mom’s basement. They’d lock themselves down there for hours and come out with glitter all over their faces, smelling like frosting and looking high.”

  Her eyes widen. “What?”

  “True story.” I pull my behind off the barstool. “You can’t make this shit up, Soph. Weird stuff goes on in Fairville. And not weird, fun stuff, but unnaturally weird, what-the-hell-is-going-on, did-the-whole-town-get-high kind of stuff.”

  “Okay, but still … Look at the bright side: you’ll only be there for a month, two months tops. That’s all.” She drapes her free arm around me. “And if you don’t come back, I’ll personally drive out there and save you from the glitter snorting rainbow cult.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course. And besides, we have to get together soon so we can start planning my wedding. As my Maid of Honor, I demand you be present.”

  “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I grab my purse and suitcase from off the couch, give it another pat good-bye, and then head for the door. “Good-bye, all,” I whisper as I close the door.

  “Ready?” Sophie asks me as I join her in the hallway.

  I shrug, sliding the bag over my shoulder. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  As we’re passing by Miss Finikey’s place, the door to her apartment opens.

  “Finally giving up, huh?” Her tone is mocking and her grin is snide, but at least she’s got clothes on. “About damn time.”

  “Oh, come on, Miss F., you know you’re going to miss your favorite neighbor.” I shoot her a smirk.

  She rolls her eyes, but I swear I detect the faintest bit of sadness in her eyes. “As soon as you leave, I’m pulling out my party hat and kazoo.”

  “Well, I’m going to miss you,” I tell her. “You were, like, the only person in this apartment who ever talked to me except for Mr. Maybether, but he just made crude remarks about my ass being as jiggley as Jell-O and to put a little bit more wiggle in it.”

  When she says nothing, I sigh and turn to leave.

  “Oh, my hell, wait a damn minute,” she says then ducks back into her apartment. When she returns, she’s carrying a record player and a small stack of records. She nearly drops both into my arms and steps back, dusting off her hands. “You were eyeballing it once when you stopped by. I was going to give them to you for Christmas. Figured I’d give them to you before you ended up stealing them. But since you won’t be here for Christmas, there you go.”

  A few tears pool in my eyes. “Thanks, Miss F. This means a lot.”

  She brushes me off. “Take care of yourself, Lexi,” she says then steps into her apartment and slams the door.

  “Wow, she’s quite the character, isn’t she?” Sophie states as we make our way to the exit doors.

  “Yeah, but in a good way.” A faint, sad smile touches my lips as we push through the doors and step outside. “I’m really going to miss her.”

  Sophie looks at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, but I simply shrug. While Miss F. was mean as hell most of the time, deep down, she was a nice person and helped me out a lot.

  After we cram the rest of my stuff into the back of the car, I give Flynn and Sophie a hug and climb into the car. As I’m pulling out onto the road, I roll down my window and stick my hand out to wave at her, pretending I’m a wannabe actress driving away to Hollywood.

  “I’ll call you when I’m famous,” I shout out the window, “unless I forget all about you.”

  Sophie just shakes her head. “Drive safely!” she shouts. “And keep two hands on the wheel!”

  I roll up the window and do what she says. Then I steer the car toward the freeway, watching the city—my dream life—slip away from me.

  Chapter 5

  Four hours later, I’m parked on the side of the road, staring at a “Come Join Us On Saturday for Our Famous 80s-Themed Custard Pie Making Contest” banner on the side of the road. In fine print at the bottom, it reads, “Don’t miss the party of the year! With live entertainment by Fairville’s very own the Skip and Flips.” And at the very, very bottom of the banner is a series of drawings: a smiley face, a slice of pie, a dog, a party hat, a polka-dot dress, and what looks like a large, hairy man eating a fork and giving a thumbs up.

  I grip the steering wheel, trying to mentally talk my foot into pushing the gas pedal so I can get this over with. A half a mile and I’ll officially be back in my hometown. Only a half a mile and I’ll be back to the place where every memory—good and bad—ever happened … and where every single person remembers each one.

  Five more minutes drift by before someone drives past me, honking their horn.

  “If you get to the fairgrounds soon, you’ll be able to catch the last part of the contest, Lexi!” a woman hollers out her window at me. “Welcome home!”

  Great. My car’s already been recognized.

  Blowing out a stressed breath, I send my mom a message that I’m just pulling into town then drive down the road. I have no plans of going to the pie-baking contest. I’m heading straight to my parents’ house so I can unpack and start looking for jobs.

  The plan is to find one, preferably one that doesn’t involve socializing with the public, and begin saving up. I’ll continue applying for jobs in the city, commuting for interviews when I have to. Hopefully, within a month or two, I’ll have a stash of cash saved, a job lined up, and be on my way back to Denver.

  Ten minutes later, I’m parked in the driveway of the two-story home I grew up in. It still looks exactly the same: blue shutters match the door, a wraparound porch, and flowers line the walkway. But my mom’s gnome collection is gone.

  “That’s weird.” I hop out of the car.

  My mom loves those gnomes as much as she loves me. I’m not kidding. She used to spend at least an hour every day out in the garden, rearranging them to keep them out of the sunlight and sprinklers as much as possible. A few times, I even caught her talking to them, although to this day she denies it.

  “Mom, did Dad finally make you get rid of the gnomes?” I call out as I enter the house through the back door. I instantly notice confetti and yarn all over the floor, and I hear a loud bang from the kitchen. “Or did you just finally decide they were creepy, little things—oh, my God!” I shriek at the sight of a man and a woman going at it on a counter covered in confetti.

  The man has on a party hat along with an apron, and the woman is naked and holding a large, wooden spoon. When they spot me, they both scramble away from each other in a panic.

  “Who the hell are you?” the man shouts as he frantically ducks behind the counter.

  “Lexi!” I slap my hand over my eyes, spin around, and run for the door, but I end up crashing into the wall and bashing my forehead hard. “Dammit! That’s going to leave a mark!”

  “Lexi Ashford, is that you?” the woman says, and I recognize the voice as Mrs. Timpler, one of my mom’s unicorn cult friends.

  I nod, keeping my hand over my eyes. “Hey, Mrs. Timpler … Um, where are my parents?”

  “Probably at the fairgrounds for the contest,” she says. “Your mom’s competing this year.”

  “That’s cool.” I feel awkward as hell. “But why are you … Well … um … having sex in her kitchen?”

  “Her kitchen?” Puzzlement rings in her voice. “Oh, she must not have told you.”

  I keep my hand firmly over my eyes. “Told me what?”

  “They sold the house to us a couple of months ago,” she explains.

  What! “Why didn’t they tell me?”

  She hesitates. “They must have been worried it’d upset you.”

  I’m not sure what to say. While I’m not a fan of Fairville, it makes me sad that the house that holds most of my memories from when I was younger isn’t part of my family anymore.

  “Why’d they sell it?” I ask quietly.

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She touches my shou
lders. I think she’s going to give me a hug. My heart just about shits a brick, because, hello, she’s butt-ass naked. But instead, she pushes me in the direction of the back door. “You should probably go to the fairgrounds and ask them yourself. I’m sure they can explain it better than I can.” Then she opens the door and shoves me outside. “It was so nice seeing you again, Lexi. Make sure to stop by so we can talk more. Just make sure to knock next time. Doug and I like to spend our afternoons trying out new role-playing if you get what I mean. And right now is birthday fantasy week.”

  Unsure how to respond, I just stand there with my eyes covered.

  “It’s so great you’re home.” Her voice is upbeat, friendly, like I didn’t just walk in on her and her husband going at it.

  Only when she shuts the door do I dare remove my hand from my eyes. Feeling a little dazed and in desperate need of a shower, I text my mom again. When she doesn’t respond, I give my dad ring, but he doesn’t answer, either.

  Since I have no idea where they’re living, I have only one option.

  I sigh. “Looks like I’m going straight into the fire pit of hell.”

  Chapter 6

  I didn’t prepare myself enough for this. Being a city girl and all, I thought I’d be able to stick up my nose and hold my head high. But, as I stand in the middle of the crowd, which is decked out in leg warmers, neon colors, fluffed hair, bright makeup, and not to mention spandex—spandex everywhere—all I want to do is go old school, Lexi-style, and tug the hood of my jacket over my head and hunker down.

  I keep my head low as I search around for my dad. The Doo-Wop’s version of “Ordinary World” by Duran Duran hits my ears as the lovely scent of pie engulfs my nostrils.

  “Lexi Ashford? Oh, my word, is that you?” Carrie Lynn, an extremely peppy girl I went to school with, blindsides me. “My word. Little Lexi T-rexi grew up.” She pinches the bottom of my hoodie as she eyes my holey jeans and unlaced boots. “Is the grunge look a city thing? I always remembered you being more … well, clueless in the fashion department.” She laughs at herself. “Remember those big glasses you used to wear that made your eyes look three times their size? And that ratty shirt you had with the horse on it that you wouldn’t get rid of, even when we purposely ripped it? Oh, my God, that thing was so hideous.”