It looked like a pile of dog poop. A great lump of odd-textured poop, as if the Beethoven dog had been eating something rather ungodly, which in return disagreed horribly with its stomach. Jason pushed the plate away.

“Uhm, no thanks Jessie. I already ate.” What he wanted to say was along the lines of what the hell are you trying to feed me? Are you trying to kill me?

“You’re not even giving it a chance!” She complained, stomping one foot rather childishly and turning her reflective blue eyes to the ceiling.

Jason reached out his hand across the counter, “You know I love what you cook, but there was a meeting at work, and Ralph bought everyone food from that new joint up town. What’s-it-called…” he snapped his fingers as if recalling a thought, which in this case, was never there. “You know which place I’m talking about, honey.”

She slipped her hand out from his and crossed her arms stubbornly. “Whenever I do anything for you—anything, you never appreciate it. All I wanted to do was cook something nice for you to show how much I love you. Because according to you, I forgot our one year anniversary yesterday and this is how you treat me when I do something!” She blinked her eyes rapidly, on the verge of tears. Jason dismissed it as good acting classes and sighed.

“I told you this morning I forgave you for yesterday. I just hate to see you work yourself up like this. You really didn’t have to do anything for me. You know I still love you.” He laced his voice with sincerity and tried not to smile as he thought through the conversation which took place earlier in the day. He had stayed late at “work” yesterday and by the time he got back to their apartment Jessie had been conked out on the sofa, a card gripped in her thin fingers as though it was a one hundred percent off coupon to Macy’s. He had easily convinced the theater major that she forgot their anniversary and did not in the least bit feel guilty.

She sniffed and let a tear fall onto the countertop.

“Baby, what is it?” He asked. Was it that he was a “heartless cheater”? Or that he was a “lying dog”, or perhaps a “pompous jerk”? To him all of these seemed reasonably on target, having been shouted at him numerous times by previous “engagements”.

“I j-just don’t feel like you lul-luh-love m-me,” she stammered, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and leaving colorful smears across her face which reminded Jason of the Joker from Batman.

“Oh baby, you know I do,” he didn’t hesitate to use the infamous line. With pleading eyes and a soft touch of his hand, he knew it would lure any woman into his deadly trap.

“I d-don’t know,” she hiccupped and took a couple deep breaths. “You never talk t-to me and come home late. And , and you—you just don’t care!” She let out another wail, losing all composure once again.

Jason rolled his eyes and then rubbed her back. “You know I care. I’m sorry I just haven’t had time to be as close to you as I truly want. Like we both want. My work is just so demanding.” He racked his brains, trying to think of more excuses.

Jessie looked up, face looking like a semi truck had splashed her in the face with a puddle of muddy water. “Because you’re at work….” Her face took on a new pondering expression and her eyes squinted a little. “Work,” she laughed once, a little hysterically. She looked like she had a sudden epiphany, and Jason grew confused—for once—at this odd change.

“Yes,” he repeated, more slowly this time. “Work.”

“I’m not an idiot, Jason.”
He smiled a little. And she was just realizing this now? He felt like saying well it took you long enough but thought better, and reassembled his thoughts.

“’Course you’re not babe,” he stood up, not liking how inferior he felt when he was sitting down and she was towering, like some demented clown, over him.

“I know what you’ve been doing,” Jessie pointed a finger as if it might fire a bullet out of the tip and inclined her eyebrows. “Work? Oh I am sure you worked, but it definitely did not include your office.”

Actually it did. “Baby, what are you talking about?”

She shook her head like her oversized hair was getting electrocuted. “No,” she huffed. “Don’t babe me… get out.”

Jason laughed. “What?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me!” She hissed, on the brink of hysteria. “Out.”

“You can’t be serious. This is my apartment.” And a darn nice one too. He looked around at his expensive art sculptures, which he didn’t know or care to know the names of, or where they came from for that matter, and felt a feeling of self satisfaction. Hell. He was rich!

“Fine!” she took a sharp breath and stormed over to the next room and began bundling clothes up, grabbing belongings, and throwing them in a suitcase.

“What are you doing?” he asked. The lady was nuts. She had to be. She had one of the best accommodations in the city for free, dating one of the most successful and youngest businessmen in the region, and was packing it away next to her frilly Victoria Secret panties.

“What does it look like?” She struggled to zip up the bulging suitcase. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re still young. You don’t know what you’re talking about. All you want is right here and you know it.” Its true he thought. I have to be one of the best looking guys in the country. I should be on the cover of People Magazine for God’s sake.

“No. I know what I’m talking about. And DON’T try to convince me otherwise,” She regained her composure, stood between him and the door in the middle of short hall, and stared at him like a bull.

He sighed. Well she actually gained some sense.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” she demanded, and Jason flashed back to his childhood—a little boy getting tisk-tisked at by his mother.

Yes, you’re freakin’ crazy. “Sorry?”

Jessie laughed and shook her head and Jason kept his mouth shut, confused.

“I’ll get the rest later. Good bye, Jason.” She turned around and swept her rolling suitcase out, toppling a stand and letting a European vase crash to the floor. Not that Jason knew that. If Jessie would have asked him, and she would have known the answer, Jason might have guessed Egyptian. They seemed to have made a lot of pots.

He stood there with his broken pottery and watched probably the best thing that could happen to his life walk out the door—besides getting rich. He doubted that he could ever get a girl so sophisticated and yet so naïve again. Well, he supposed that she won the battle in the end. After all, she did leave him, had free lodging while at school, not to mention meals, and jewelry, and clothes...

He walked over to the window, feeling like a dead man, and waited for Jessie to walk out the front of the apartment complex. And there she was, striding down the sidewalk as determined as ever, catching the first taxi she extended her arm for.

Well. This sucks. The taxi soon got lost in the maze of cars and Jason walked over to the broken vase. He would probably go on through life, a broken man, never knowing what it would feel like to have only one love, hiding from his loneliness in his money and affairs. Ha. Like I would want only one love. All that crap is overrated. When has less ever meant more? He thought about the shallowness of his thoughts and shrugged. What’s the point in changing now?