ASSIGNMENTS:
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Amanda Mello
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania USA
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REPORTS:
PREVIOUS NEXT
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Me: Hello?
Ashley: Hi.
Me: Hey . . . how are you? It's been a while . . .
Ashley: Yea . . . I've had a lot going on, a lot to think about.
Me: Oh yea?
Ashley: Yea. You sound kind of angry.
Me: Angry? No, not quite. More like irritated, hurt . . . those kind of things.
Ashley: Oh.
Me: Ha. Yes. Oh. Did you want something then?
Ashley: Hmm? Oh, no. Not really. Just to say hello. I thought maybe I'd stop over for a cigarette.
Me: It was one thing for you to smoke all my cigarettes when we were (pause) fucking. Now too?
Ashley: Umm . . .
Me: I am angry. I liked. Do you know that I'm angry? Somehow all of these issues that had no basis or justification popped out of nowhere. I don't get it. We spent a couple solid weeks together where you insisted you liked how young you felt with me, and then when I move to the neighborhood, you disappear.
Ashley: Sorry. Things got to be too much for me.
Me: That's fine Ashley, but don't go acting like my little brother for christ's sake! There's a reason I don't date boys my age, it's to avoid shit like this shit right here. You're thirty-two but you act eighteen. I should have realized something was up when you mentioned that all your friends are married. What's your deal? An inability to commit?
Ashley: I don't want to talk about this.
Me: What a surprise. I am going through some really tough shit right now and I need people to be supportive of me. I need good friends to offer hugs and quality time. Fuck romance. I don't want that from you.
Ashley: So, then, what?
Me: I want you to BE A FRIEND. I want you to call when you say you will, ask how my goddamn vagina is . . . this cancer/biopsy shit is really fucking scary, you picked an excellent time to bail.
Ashley: It didn't have anything to do with that. You know that.
Me: It doesn't fucking matter! Be a friend, show some support. Give me a goddamned hug every now and then. Don't do the same thing all my other friends are doing.
Ashley: What's that?
Me: Ignoring what's happening to my vagina and thus my brain by not addressing it, thinking that helps!
Ashley: Yea . . . um . . . I should get going. I have to get to the library.
Me: (scoff) Yea.
Ashley: Um. I'm sorry. I'll call you . . .
Me: Don't say that. Don't bother.
(click.)
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