Cassie

Cassie. Like the dog, but with a C. Her apartment was a shithole, and it smelled like cats or parrots or something.
“Ugh, I hate cats, you know that.” She moved through the place sharply, displacing clothes onto chairs and shoving piles of paper from one shelf to another in her bedroom. Ray plunked the grocery bags onto the counter top.
“They’re too stuck up,” she yelled from the bedroom, “they think they’re better than everyone.” She swooped back into the kitchen and dropped a kiss on his cheek and started unpacking the bags. Her refrigerator was full of all sorts of Tupperware and bowls half covered in saran wrap.
They are better.
“Yeah,” Ray said, “dogs run and catch Frisbees and do the park. Much better.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned back.
“I stand by the fact that those are the worst pants on earth, Ray. Where did you get them, again? I know you told me.”
“Mom,” he said. They were olive green cargo pants, nice and comfortable.
“They’ll burn nicely,” she said. “My neighbor, the one who lives over there,” point, “wants us to come over for a barbeque before it really gets too cold.”
You can’t have a grill on the second floor.
“Sounds great,” Ray said. He poked a few times at a blob of clothing on the counter, but its identity remained a mystery.
“I told her we’d be there around six, could you have your mother make that potato stuff?” The groceries disappeared into parts of her place, and she scuttled around, tidying up.
“Are we still going on that trip?” Ray said. She threw an armful of clothes on the floor by the washing machine. He kicked aside some magazines and plopped down on the couch, legs on the table. He wanted a cigarette. No more smoking, Ray! It makes your kisses taste bad. When he got to the car. She wouldn’t know.
“I feel bad always asking her to cook for us. Do you think we should invite her? I still don’t think she likes me.” She doesn’t like you.
“The trip, babe, the trip. You. Me. Are we going? Or…?”
“Yes! Ray, dear. Dearest,” (kiss on the back of his head), “we already talked about that. I got off from the clinic. I just need to get a bathing suit.” She walked in front of him, in front of the TV that was turned off. “I’ve never seen you in a suit!” You haven't seen you in a suit, either. Not since you were fourteen.