I DO NOT OWN THE BREAKFAST CLUB. SHOUT OUT TO POPPY471 FOR CAPTURING THE ESSENCE OF ALLISON REYNOLDS.

Bender and Allison's Apartment. Earlier that evening.

(Allison's POV)

After I finished cleaning up our breakfast dishes, I managed to get to Art History on time, went to ceramics next and critical studies after lunch. It was 4 by the time I got home on the bus.

I was thinking about what to make for dinner when John arrived home from work.

"I'm home!" he called to me from the living room. "What's for dinner?" The TV started blaring the 5 o'clock news theme.

"Spaghetti. Could you turn that down please?"

"Spaghetti again?"

"Yes. Could you turn that down please?"

"Why do we have spaghetti all the time? I'm sick of spaghetti."

"Why don't you come and make something yourself, if you're so sick of it?"

This constant bickering was wearing me down. I had a ton of homework for my two classes tomorrow and I could be working on that if Bender ever helped out. But he never did.

"I work all day and come home to this shit."

I put down the meat I'd unwrapped and went to the doorway. "You do not come home to shit! You come home to dinner made for you every night. You come home to a house that has a clean bathroom, fresh sheets on the bed, all the bills mailed out, groceries in the fridge, everything done so you can sit around and moan about spaghetti. I'm sick of this!"

"Poor school girl, working 18 hours a week."

"I have told you, again and again, that I have homework, studio time, and my work-study. If you added all my studying, studio time, work-study, and the paintings and other projects, I'm working just as hard as you. And I contribute equally to our finances. I pay just as much rent as you. You always act like you're the single breadwinner and I'm a leech. I am not a leech!"

"Jesus, don't get so worked up." He turned up the volume.

"You know who you're turning into? Your father!"

"WHAT?" he bellowed. In a moment he was right there, in the doorway with me.

" 'Go fix me a turkey pot pie.' Isn't that typical Bender Senior? Go fix me this, go do that, always dissatisfied. You're going to start saying 'Shut up, bitch!' soon."

If I hadn't been so mad, I would have been scared of John. He loomed over me, looking thunderous. But I didn't care.

"Why don't you hit me! Go ahead, just like your dad."

John clenched his fists as if struggling with that very impulse. Instead, he turned away and crashed his fist into the wall.

"I am NOT my father."

"Could have fooled me. Going out all night drinking, coming home late with no explanation, ordering me around, taking me for granted. You haven't thanked me for a single meal I've made in over a week. Luke thanks me more than you do!"

"Oh yeah, you artist types are so superior. Of course you love Luke, Mr. Artsy Fartsy. You can't call that shit," he gestured to a cubist painting I was working on, "real work. It's some kind of mind fuck. But, noooo, Luke is so wonderful."

I was completely blind-sided. "Are you jealous of Luke?"

"I don't know, should I be?"

"No, of course not! What kind of question is that? You're the one staying out all hours, dragging back in here an hour after bar closing time. What else is there to do after last call, but go home with the last skank left in the bar? I'm surprised you haven't given me syphilis!"

"I don't know how I'd do that, seeing as we don't screw anymore."

"Maybe because you stopped caring if I was having a good time. Before we moved in together, you were always trying to get me to go all the way, coaxing and wooing. Now you just come home and demand sex. Of course we don't screw anymore!"

"You know what, why don't I just leave, if I'm that bad. We never screw, you bitch all the time, this is not what I signed up for."

"Yes, why don't you leave? And never come back?"

"I think I'll do just that."

I was insane with anger. I ran back to the kitchen, grabbed up the ground beef and threw it at him. "Don't forget dinner!"

I ran to the front door, jar of spaghetti sauce in my hand, ready to brain him with it, but he was already down the stairs and heading for the street door. Good riddance.

Then I collapsed in tears.

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