Beautiful Disaster

"It was all okay if you consider the Dictatorship of Alice as something that should shape a relationship between two equals."

I can see Bella biting her lip hard, probably not to blurt out the first thing coming to her mind, so I relieve her of that pressure.

"Got tired of too much Gin, eh?"

Jazz seems surprised that either of us has noticed that – and still remembers – but it’s hard to ignore the many instances in which Alice has put her own ideas up for them as a couple.

"Kind of. That and so many other things," he admits. His eyes flit across the room then, taking in everything around us, before they return to Bella and me. He still seems reluctant to look at us while talking, but the tension slowly leaks from his body.

"I know it sounds petty of me, but of late it has felt as if she’s deliberately doing everything to show me how much she doesn’t care for what I think or like. Really everything. She couldn’t even care to pick her stupid clothes off the living room table!"

The clearly offended tone makes me snort even though I’m trying hard not to.

"What, her messiness is a personal offense to you?"

This drags up memories of years of fights over me leaving something lying around, memories that make me smile inside. Jazz has always been somewhat of a neat freak, and we’ve had real troubles over that. Back in the college dorm room we’ve shared that got as far as a few fist fights, and when we moved to the house, we’ve had to divide the space up into clear zones where either I had to pick up after myself immediately, or he was a step away from not being allowed entrance. I’ve never understood why Bella still finds it so amusing that I as a surgeon can feel comfortable with leaving a trail of junk wherever I go, while keeping the playroom about spotless. But at least she doesn’t throw things at me anymore when I drink the orange juice straight from the bottle. Mellowing her down day by day.

I figure Jasper must be thinking long the same lines because he grins for a second, but then the grief swallows that up immediately.

"You have no idea."

"I actually do," Bella chimes in. "Remember, I’ve had to search my books and notes between her heaps of clothes everywhere for years, too. And I don’t think that got any better since college."

He shakes his head.

"Nope. And her designing stuff and all that fabric just make it all a perfect mess. And I can’t really say it wasn’t organized because she always knew when I touched anything and got in my face immediately. In a way I’m glad she doesn’t cook or else it would have been like living in a waste dump."

"She doesn’t cook?" Bella echoes lamely, then frowns. "But I know her fridge is well stocked, she’s usually dragging me along groceries shopping, griping at every pre-packaged meal I buy."

"Alice only eats non-processed food," Jazz explains, his voice changing from hollow to acerbic again. "And only organic food. And no fat or carbohydrates. Do you have any idea how much I miss noodles? She wouldn’t even let me make mac and cheese!"

As if in answer to his own outburst his stomach growls, and Bella allows herself a soft smile.

"I can warm up some left-overs if you want them after all."

He starts to protest that he still isn’t hungry, but Bella ignores him, extricating herself from me before she shimmies by Jazz to shorten her way to the fridge.

"I always ask myself, what’s more polite, ass or crotch?" he murmurs, then snorts. Bella stops, her fingers wrapped around the handle of the fridge door, and smirks.

"As long as you don’t start making soap in my bath tub, I don’t give a shit."

"We don’t have a bath tub," I chime in, making her laugh.

"Exactly."

Jazz is shaking his head then, clearly still amused, and a hint of the smile remains even when he sobers up.

"But seriously, I feel like I’ve been living in that flat from the guy from ‘Fight Club’ for the last months. It’s like an alternate version of the Ikea catalogue.

Including those stupid glass stuff."

Getting a blue glass bowl from the cupboard, Bella dumps the contents of the by now hot microwave dish into it and brings it over to Jazz.

"You mean like these wonderful glass dishes with the little imperfections that prove that they were handcrafted by the hard-working indigenous people of where-ever?"

He just groans but accepts the food without another complaint, then starts shoveling down pasta as if he’s been starving for weeks. Although technically if that were the case he would already be vomiting, I dryly remark to myself. We both must have been watching him with the same kind of fascination because he suddenly stops and glares at us, before he gives a single guffaw that is probably meant to be a laugh.

"It’s good. Great, even. Thanks."

Bella smiles graciously, then, in a nearly idle motion pushes part of a towel sticking out from under a pillow back into hiding.

"Still, can’t have been that bad. I mean I know Alice’s decorating frenzy, but she’s usually getting everything looking good."

"Yeah, but do you really need all these clever things? I mean who really buys a stupid table with a yin-yang symbol on it."

"Me for instance," Bella huffs as she pushes herself into my side again.

"And I still don’t see what you have against the congeniality of the Omtyckt place mats, the Husvik lamps, the Pränt box or the Beata Orkide duvet covers."

I can’t hold back a loud laugh when I see his horrified expression at her fluently counting off the different items on her fingers.

"Now you’re just making that all up."

"Am not," she remarks, turning to me. "Just because you don’t speak Ikea doesn’t mean I’m just as illiterate."

Jazz and I share a look that can only be described as pained, while Bella goes on.

"But I admit, the Bredgrund shower curtain might have been a little too much even for Alice."

There’s nothing either of us feels can be said to that, and Bella drops the topic after a moment, clearly pleased with herself.

"But seriously, neither Ikea Wonderland nor her leaving her stuff strewn all over the apartment can be the reason why you broke up."

"Of course not," Jasper admits, then puts the empty bowl back onto the table. "It’s all taken together. She just," he sighs and lets the words drift off, then finally resumes. "It’s as if she simply couldn’t bear to let me decide anything, even for myself. You have no idea how furious she got when I told her I quit my job last week."

"Wait, you quit your job?" I ask, surprised, at the same time as Bella chimes in, "Didn’t you want to wait till after Christmas?"

"You knew about this?" I go on to her when it’s obvious that she did. Bella shrugs, and for a moment she looks uncomfortable before defiance makes her straighten her back.

"Yes, I knew that Jazz thought about quitting his job. And you would have, too, if you hadn’t been acting like an ass around him all summer long."

The resulting silence is deafening, and even without him in the room I’m not sure if I would have known what to reply. As it is I keep it to glaring at her, although I have to admit that I’m more angry with myself than with her – and she’s right, of course, which doesn’t really help.

"Actually it’s been a very recent development," Jazz tries to diffuse the situation, wise enough not to take sides in the silent argument between me and my girlfriend. "I mean I’ve been thinking about quitting for months, but they kicked out another thirty people and cut our salaries, and I figured before I earn minimal wages for a shitty job I’m better off trying my luck elsewhere. I’ve recently met two of my buds from college, and we’ve been talking about opening our own business together, and that last week was kind of the incentive I needed to throw my lot in with them. And am now in the lucky position that unless we get a few projects soon I’m pretty much completely broke."