Page 53

CHAPTER 53

DOMESTIC KLEPTOMANIA

MARGAUX

TWO DAYS LATER

Me:

Ahaha. You were right. You usually are.

Alice:

What about?

I mean, I like being right.

Me:

You know what.

Alice:

Not yet.

Me:

There was a day of greatness.

And then he got all mad, bc I saw on his phone he had a bunch of local women doing porn. And it turned out he handed his phone to some local teen. But also looked up if I was on there.

And found anyone who looked like me bc… as everyone knows, all I do out here is bang guys and also make sure it’s on video WHAT (neither).

Alice:

That’s his mental illness talking.

Me:

Wild! With all my spare time to MAKE PORN… bc I drove off to get Thai food for half an hour yesterday.

Alice:

With his diagnosis, it means he doesn’t think like normal people.

I send her a picture of the cat from the Thai restaurant, and then a shot of the restaurant’s front door.

Me:

I sent him this cat picture, and he accused me of being at someone’s house banging them.

If so, their house has a passing health certificate, lol.

Alice:

He cannot be reasoned with.

Me:

I know. He had a moment of clarity where he was like, ‘Everything you said was right and I shouldn’t have said/done xyz,’ and then reverted.

In happier news, did you hear Pete Davidson is going to guest host SNL this week?! Tomorrow, I guess!

Somehow, I find the energy to write. I channel the emotions I’m feeling for a very particular scene that seems fitting.

Me:

I just had to write a brutal torture scene for my book. If someone looks up my google searches, they’re going to think I’m a right psycho. I tried to add ‘for book’ and ‘writing’ in my searches.

Alice:

That’s what they all do.

TWO DAYS LATER

Timmy has been unusually quiet for most of the day. The kind of quiet that makes me suspicious rather than relieved.I should’ve known better than to let my guard down.

When he finally emerges from the back room, he moves quickly, pulling random items out of the kitchen. A frying pan, a bag of chips, and—what the hell—a bulk pack of string cheese from Costco. My string cheese. He doesn’t say a word, just loads his arms and walks out the door, leaving it to swoosh and beep behind him.

I sit there, stunned. What the fuck?

An hour later, he returns, grabs more items, and disappears again. It’s like watching a bizarre game of domestic kleptomania.

Me:

It might shock you to know…

I don’t want it to be, but part of me wishes my brain was like his, so I could just feel like everything was okay.

By the time he returns a third time, I’ve gone from confused to enraged.

He heads straight for the shower. My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Timmy, from the bathroom:

Timmy:

You want to get in… on this bubble bath?

I stare at the message for a long moment, my disbelief turning to laughter. Bubble bath? After swiping my string cheese and half the kitchen? Is this some kind of joke? My thumbs fly across the screen.

Me:

No. I’m downloading dating apps so I can be away from you, you sad fuck.

I screenshot the exchange and send it to Alice.

Alice:

This is your life with him.

Me:

Yep. I’m basically done.

Alice:

Is this what you want?

Me:

No. It’s lame. I hate it. I hear you.

Timmy’s voice carries from the bathroom. “I’m too scared to come out of the bathroom. I’m scared you might hurt me!”

I roll my eyes so hard I’m surprised they don’t get stuck.

I tell Alice about the prior cockroach incident, when Timmy threw one at me and I scratched his arm in retaliation.

Me:

Girl got to defend herself.

I also realize I shouldn’t need to.

Omg I can’t wait to hang out and just feel relaxed.

And it’s true. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t on eggshells, constantly trying to avoid upsetting Timmy, or when I hadn’t given up entirely and matched his madness with my own.

Me:

I’m going to get a therapy evaluation to see what’s going on with me.

Alice:

Good.

I worry about you. And him throwing shit at you.

Me:

Yeah, who throws a cockroach?!

Speaking of which, there’s a vent in our bathroom that big cockroaches can get through. He’d sealed it up with mesh.

But apparently when he had a bubble bath the other night, he opened the vent up ‘because it was steamy’ and they came crawling in.

The image is disgusting enough to make me gag, but it’s also infuriating.

I’d spent weeks clearing out the infestation when we first moved in. Now the roaches are back with a vengeance, invading every corner of the apartment. They’re in the silverware drawer, crawling over the plates, even hiding inside my espresso machine. Every time I open it, one scuttles out like it owns the place.

It took me ages to get rid of them the first time, and then Timmy just goes and opens up the vent and lets a bunch more back in.

Alice:

That’s so gross.

OMFG ewwwww.

I fucking hate bugs!!

Me:

Me too, especially if they are large.

And Timmy knows it.

The cockroach situation is just the latest in Timmy’s campaign of chaos. It’s like he’s discovered a whole new way to torment me.

Determined to regain some semblance of control, I put on my flip-flops and walk out to the rock pools in front of the building. The salty air and crashing waves help to clear my head.

By the time I return to the apartment, I’ve made a decision—I’m signing up for roller derby.

Me:

In other news, I’m going to start doing roller derby here soon.

Alice:

Good! It’ll be good for you to have friends there in person.

I can’t come in the middle of the night and help.

She’s right again. I’ve relied on Alice for so much remote emotional support, but there’s only so much she can do from miles away. It’s time to reclaim my life.

I’m isolated, and I’ve come to realize that’s just the way Timmy wants it.

But he can keep his bubble baths and cockroach vents. I’m going to build something better—starting now.