Casey’s house is probably about forty-five minutes from the Griddle, thirty with no traffic. There’s traffic.
Casey and her mom sit in the backseat while I drive. Casey rocks back and forth sobbing and saying, “Why?” as her mom hugs her and keeps repeating, “It’s going to be fine. We’ll just get to your apartment and forget all about him.”
As we come to a dead stop on the 405 in minute four of our drive, I wonder why her mom didn’t just tell me to go fuck myself and get a cab for her and Casey to take back to Casey’s apartment. As we lurch forward again I ask her.
“Are you sure you guys don’t just want to get a cab? I can drop you off at a hotel or something.”
Casey’s mom says, “You just broke my little girl’s heart and probably ruined any chance she has at getting married for at least the next year. The least you can do is drive us back to her apartment.”
I say, “Okay.”
Surprisingly, the drive back to Casey’s apartment isn’t that uncomfortable for me. Having cut Casey loose gives me a feeling of detachment from anything she must be going through and that’s comforting.
Every now and then Casey says something like, “Isn’t there any way we can like just talk this through?” or “I just don’t understand. Can’t you give me some chance to like change?” to which I say, “No, I don’t think so.” Then she goes back to crying so much she can’t talk or properly breathe.
Her mom throws out things like, “I can understand realizing that you don’t want to be with somebody after a few months, but waiting a year and a half to end something—after you’ve proposed, no less…that’s just plain rude. And after all her father and I have done for you. Well, I can tell you this much, you won’t be missed at any of the Childress family functions,” and, “Do you honestly think you’re going to find another family as giving as ours? Because you’re not. The Childresses were the best thing that ever happened to you and you’re going to realize it one day, but it’ll be too late because Casey will be gone. She’ll be married to someone else who deserves to be part of our family.”
For a second I imagine Casey fucking some other guy. It doesn’t bother me at all. I imagine her sucking some other guy’s cock, which gets the same reaction. The thought of her getting gangbanged by the Lakers doesn’t make me mad or queasy or sad or anything at all. I go back to just imagining one guy fucking her. I start to feel sorry for the guy.
Casey snaps me out of the image by saying something new: “Is there someone else?”
And even though technically there isn’t, the question makes me think immediately of Alyna and what she’s doing and if the fact that I’m single would change how she felt about me at all. I say, “No.”
“Then why do you want to do this? I just don’t understand.”
I kind of feel like I do owe her an explanation, but I know telling her the truth—that I can’t stand to be around her and I hate her mother and I wish she would fuck me more—will ultimately end up with her promising to change and forcing me to give her a chance to work out our problems. I also think about explaining that I never really wanted to get engaged. Maybe telling Casey’s mom that the night we got “engaged” was actually a misunderstanding, that I never actually proposed. I think about seeing the look on her face when I tell her that I just went to Casey’s apartment that night because she promised to fuck me, but then never did—kind of like how I supposedly agreed to marry Casey and never will. But I decide it’s not worth the effort of a conversation, so instead I just say, “I just need to be by myself.”
“Then we don’t have to get married. We can just date and I’ll give you your space.”
Her mom says, “Don’t cater to him. If he doesn’t want you for who you are, then you don’t want him.” I want to smash my car into a pole just to see Casey’s mom fly through the windshield.
Casey says, “Yes, I do, Mom. I love him.”
I say, “I don’t want to date.”
Casey says, “Then we can just be friends and like start dating when you feel comfortable with the idea of it again.”
Her mom says, “You’re giving him too much. If you want him back, you make him come back on your terms.”
I change my mind about smashing my car into a pole. Instead, I realize I’d rather get into some kind of accident that would result in Casey’s mom being trapped and me having to save her, so for the rest of her life she’d know the man who ruined her daughter’s life also saved hers.
I say, “Terms? I don’t want that either.”
Casey says, “Then whatever you want, just like let me have a chance to give it to you.”
Casey’s mom says, “He doesn’t deserve you, Casey. Just let it go. He’s not worth it.”
And I’m so sick of Casey begging, and her mom being a cunt, and my imaginary car crash scenarios that I decide to just come out and say it. “Okay, you want to know what I want?”
She says, “Yes,” truly believing that whatever it is I’m about to say is going to show her the way to keep me forever.
I say, “Okay, I want to fuck twice a day minimum or at least have my dick sucked. I want you to swallow. I want to butt-fuck you every once in a while and I want you to like it….”
By this point I’m sure her mom is having an aneurysm, but I can’t stop. I feel like every word I say should have been said a million times before over the course of our relationship. I feel like every word I say should come as no shock to Casey, but I know they do. I feel like every word I say makes up for every load I should have shot in our relationship.
For those reasons I keep saying, “…I never want you to tell me a stupid fucking story about shit I couldn’t care less about again. I want you to get rid of your cats. I want you to lose about fifteen pounds off your ass. I want you to never want to get married or have kids. I want you to like video games. I want you to think retards are funny. I want you to not care if I say ‘fuck’ in front of your mom. I want you to wish Marie Osmond was dead.”
The Marie Osmond line is too much for Casey’s mom. She says, “Why would you ever want Marie Osmond dead? She’s one of the most courageous women of our time.”
I remember a line from some shitty movie Casey made me watch a month or two ago because it was one of her favorites. I decide to use the line on her. “I guess I just want you to be something you’re not.”
I don’t know if she remembers that the line is from the movie or not, but she goes back to crying. Her mom goes back to hugging her and telling her that everything’s going to be okay, and I turn up the volume on my stereo and listen to Dr. Dre’s “Can’t Make a Ho a Housewife,” which I’m pretty sure makes me smile.