Roommate Material
“Have a safe trip,” I told her.
She hugged me back, squeezing her arms around me. “And you have a good first day tomorrow. You’re going to kill it.”
It took me less than twenty minutes to walk home from the bistro. The streets were jam packed with cars, the sidewalks full of pedestrians. I could tell the tourists apart from the residents because they all had cameras around their necks and foreign flags stitched into their backpacks.
One day I’ll get there, I thought. I’ll become super successful and take vacations whenever I want.
I approached the front of my apartment complex slowly, noticing a young woman hurriedly tossing boxes down onto the curb. It was Jenna. And those boxes were mine. I rushed over, a sudden wave of panic washing over me.
“What are you doing?” I snapped.
Jenna rubbed at her temples, clearly stressed. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“This,” she hissed, gesturing toward all my things that were now unceremoniously lying on the filthy New York sidewalk. “I said I was looking for a neat roommate. The classified was very explicit.”
“I am neat,” I protested, trying to gather up a few of my things in my arms before they could be trampled on by onlookers.
“I found one of your hairs in the drain!” she exclaimed wildly, clearly offended.
“Are you being serious right now?” I scoffed. “You’re kicking me out because there was a hair? In the drain? Where it can easily be washed away?”
Jenna put her hands up in front of her, as if to physically stop my words from reaching her. “I’m sorry, Tia, but I really just can’t. I’ve already transferred you your half of the rent and safety deposit, okay? I just–” Jenna let out a deep sigh before returning through the complex’s front doors and shutting it firmly behind her.
The sound echoed in my mind, along with the terrible rush of blood through my ears. What was I supposed to do? How could she do this to me? Jenna really was crazy and now I was homeless with no place to go. There was a terrible pressure behind my eyes, the early signs of a horrific migraine just seconds away. It wasn’t like I could just pick up my things and go home. I had a job to get to the next day. But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to find another apartment in time. Jenna had left me stranded with no alternatives and nowhere to turn to. Because of a hair. In the drain.
“Crazy bitch,” I muttered bitterly to myself.
I sat down on the front steps of the complex, resting my head in my hands. After a moment of silent seething, I reached into my purse and pulled out of my cellphone. I dialed Molly’s number, tapping my foot impatiently against the pavement. She answered on the third dial tone.
“Hello?” she greeted. She sounded out of breath, a little flustered.
“Hi, Molly. It’s Tia.”
“Hey, girl, what’s up?” Her words were rushed, a tinge of frustration behind them.
“Is this a bad time?”
“Er,” she stuttered, “sort of. Something went wrong with my flight and now I can’t find my gate.”
“I’m sorry to bother you,” I said quickly, worried that she’d hang up. “That offer from before. About your brother’s spare room? Do you think… Do you think I could have his contact information?” I sighed, mentally kicking myself. This was probably a bad idea, but what choice did I have?
2
Alex
I was supposed to be at work. But one of the benefits about working for family was that hard schedules rarely ever applied. Besides, the firm had no open cases for me, and I didn’t much feel like doing any busy work. I was lounging around in the living room, watching the baseball game on the massive flat-screen TV mounted along the wall. I didn’t know what the score was, didn’t care. It was just something to fill the time, to keep my thoughts off of Eliza. She had moved her stuff out this morning, leaving the place emptier than I cared to admit. The little teddy bear I had bought her for Valentine’s day was sitting in the trash, its ear peaking out like a taunting reminder that she left me.
It had been a very rare event. Like a freaking solar eclipse.
Just as I was about to reach for the cold beer bottle sitting on my coffee table, my phone started to ring. I fished the device out of my jeans pocket and checked the screen. The call was from an unfamiliar number. It couldn’t have been the firm, I reasoned, and it couldn’t have been Molly because she was probably on her flight by now. Who would call me in the middle of the day on a Thursday? Curiosity got the better of me.