I’ll be a horrible roommate. And then he’ll want to leave. And even if he doesn’t, he won’t want anything to do with a relationship of any sort with me.
I’ve decided not only to dig in to the ‘what would Ally do’ stuff, I’ve dug into my memory from a couple months ago and the tales Carly regaled to me of how awful of a roommate Aiden was.
It’s not just what would Ally do? It’s also… what would Aiden do?
I’ll do what Aiden did. Be a shitty roommate. Operation Shitty Roommate starts now.
Yep.
I take his container of food out of the fridge and leave it on the counter, so it’ll spoil (a crying shame because starving children and because there’s enough to feed four more people). I spoon some onto the counter and drop a dollop of food on the floor.
When I go to the bathroom and get ready for bed, I make an effort to make a mess - leaving all my stuff out, squirting toothpaste in the sink, and then I take all the towels down off the shelf and take them to my room so there won’t be any for him to use tomorrow.
The apartment came with towels. He doesn’t need to know they aren’t mine.
I check to make sure my alarm is set for five o’clock in the morning and go to sleep with what feels like a solid plan to get rid of my roommate.
And then I dash quietly to the bathroom and take all the toilet paper back to my room, too.
7
Jude
I wake up to Eminem blaring in my ears. It’s five after five.
The fuck?
I open the door and head down the hall. The music blares from the bathroom while the shower runs.
The water turns off abruptly and she’s singing, too, scream-singing, asking the real Slim Shady to please stand up.
I head to the kitchen and find it trashed. There’s a mess on the counters with last night’s bami goreng sitting out, looking dried up, not to mention dirty dishes and food spilled on the floor. There’s a fresh pot of coffee made, though the counter is covered in sugar and both wet and dry coffee grinds. I pour a cup as I hear her hair dryer kick on. While I wipe up the mess on the counter, the music volume kicks up. So does the singing. Now it’s Push It by Salt-N-Pepa.
I pound on the bathroom door.
Not only do I need to take a piss, but she’s also going to wake the whole fucking building.
She doesn’t answer.
I knock again.
Finally, I try the doorknob. It turns and she’s in a yellow bra and matching thong underwear, singing away while drying her hair.
“I need in here,” I call out, staring at her cute little butterfly tatt on her ass cheek.
“Get out!” she shrieks. “You sicko!” She does an impressive spin-kick, and this shuts the door in my face before the music is dialed up even louder.
All right, so I’ll shower at my place before I head to the office and guess I’ll be taking a leak outside by my car.
***
When I get back to Ally’s place just after seven o’clock at night with a bag of groceries, I find the living room and kitchen combo space even more trashed than it was this morning. There are more dirty dishes on top of what was left this morning, and in addition to that, a mess of baking shit all over the counters with pink and blue fingerprints on the fridge, the counter, even the light switch. A dusting of flour and sugar are all over the black and white tiled kitchen floor too.
I spot her tiger head suitcase and pink backpack in the middle of the living room, open wide with clothes spilling out. All sorts of crap on the coffee table. Paper drink umbrellas, a pile of wedding favors, three tiaras, and other crap from her trip. This mess in the living room is multiplying! There are now four pairs of shoes across the back of the black sectional couch. I give my head a shake as I set the food down on the only available space on the edge of the counter.
I head to the bathroom, finding the tub filled with clothes soaking – looks like swimsuits, bras, underwear. The bathroom sink is also filled with makeup sponges and brushes in soapy water.
I knock on her bedroom door. Nothing.
I put my ear to it briefly before I push the door open and stick my nose in. Spotless. Bed made, though made with the pillows at the foot instead of the head just like the night I fucked her. No clutter. Carpet looks recently vacuumed and with perfect OCD-level lines. But on the dresser are two packages of toilet paper rolls and two stacks of clean towels. Is she hoarding these?