What's in a Name

“Ashley, wait!” 

There was no way I was going to give her the satisfaction of turning around. There was nothing left to explain.

“Ashley, you bitch, I know it’s you!”

I grabbed my apartment keys and gripped them tightly between my pointer and middle finger – just like my older sister had taught me in middle school. “Always go for the eyeballs or nuts,” she had told me, although I knew if she caught up to me my keys wouldn’t do a damn thing.

I turned up Market Street and started walking faster. A group of tech bros were taking up the entire sidewalk and I pushed my way past them, knocking one into the other.

“What the hell?” They yelled after me but I didn’t care. I broke out into a sprint.

“Ashley, you need to stop right now!” She was gaining on me. I needed to think fast. 

How the hell was this happening? How did she find me? And more importantly, where the hell were the others? 

The karaoke bar my co-workers had talked about hitting up was close by. If I could just get there, they could protect me. There was power in numbers, right?

Wait, that’s exactly what got me into this mess in the first place.

I turn down an alleyway and started sprinting as fast as I could. 

This was getting to be ridiculous. Was I going to spend my entire life running from them? They would never stop until they got what they wanted. 

I slowed down to catch my breath. Tears streamed down my face. When did I start crying? What was going on? Why did she still have this effect -- this power -- on me after all these years?

“Ashley, it’s time to pay for what you did."

And then she was there in front of me, looking exactly like I remembered her. The rockabilly wig was gone and her natural blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders. God, she had always been so beautiful.

"Ashley, it’s time to come home.” 

***

The night had started in predictable fashion. The team had met up for drinks at the Mexican restaurant across the street from the office before people started closing their tabs or breaking off into smaller and smaller groups to figure out where to go next. 

I was already three Rosarita Red margaritas in – Tio Johnny’s signature drink – and there was no way I was planning on heading home to my apartment anytime soon. Thankfully it appeared Jim, Laurel, and Brent from accounting weren’t ready to call it a night either. It was a motley crew, no doubt. I don’t think I had ever said more than five sentences to Brent before this evening but he seemed down and, more importantly, that he wouldn’t rat to HR in the morning should the night take a turn. 

We were still trying to agree on a place to go next when my phone lit up. Derek was down at Lucky 13 with a crew and wanted to know if I wanted to roll by.

Of course I wanted to roll by. I always wanted to roll by when it came to Derek.

Derek. What the heck were we even doing? Why was I entertaining the thought of meeting with him and his pretentious band friends.

“That chick I want you to meet is here,” he texted.

I left Tio’s without saying good-bye.

*****

The familiar smell of whiskey and popcorn hit my nostrils the minute I walked in. I found Derek out on the patio and went up to him and gave him an awkward half hug. A girl with blunt Bettie Paige bangs and too much eyeliner was standing next to him. Ugh, definitely his type. Why did I agree to meet her? Why was I torturing myself?

“Liv, this is Ash,” he said. She looked me dead in the eyes.

No fucking way. 

“I think we’ve met before," she said with a smirk.

My heart dropped.

"Wait, what? Wild!" Derek said, oblivious to the tension between us.

"I swear this city gets smaller and smaller."

"Are you sure?" I said, trying to keep my cool. "People tell me I have a familiar-looking face all the time."

"Oh I'm sure," she said. "You said it's Ashley, right?"

"Her name is Liv," Derek said with a slight laugh.

But I was already out the door before I could correct him.

*****

I never wanted to be an Ashley.

Growing up I would beg my mom again and again to call me Kelly, after my favorite afternoon TV alter-ego, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I don’t want to be an Ashley anymore,” I would whine from the backseat of our beat up Plymouth Voyager, my older sister sitting next to me. 

“Why?” she would sign. “All of your friends are Ashleys and you love your friends.”

My mom was a lot of things, but creative wasn’t one of them.

There were four other Ashleys in my class – seven in my grade alone. Who knew how many hundreds of others were out there. It was the most popular baby girl’s name of 1988 after all.

But I didn't love them. I was scared of them.

“Fine,” she would finally say. “What if we called you Ash?”

Ashley Donte had already claimed Ash as her own. I wasn’t about to cross Ash Donte even if she was my best friend. You never wanted to cross Ash. 

As I grew older I resigned myself to the fact that this sequence of letters was me, my identity. I was an Ashley – I was one of them – whether I liked it or not. 

Until I wasn’t. Until they forced Ashley into hiding and Liv emerged.

Liv was everything Ashley was not. Most importantly, she was free of the others and what they represented. Liv was alive.

I moved across the country. I found a new job. New friends. A new life. The Ashleys couldn’t get to me.

At first the hairs on the back of my arms would bristle when I would hear my former name. At Starbucks, in a bar. Until one day it didn’t mean anything. I was Liv. I was okay. They couldn’t make me do those things anymore. They couldn't hurt me.

They say there's power in numbers, but I had found my strength all on my own.