by G. , Whitney
“Ha!” The guy laughed. “Not that type of runner. Runner like runner. Like, people who handle the delivery of my products.”
“So, you sell things for the track team?”
“He’s talking about drugs, Greg.” I shook my head. “He’s a goddamn drug dealer.”
“I don’t deal any heavy drugs, though,” the guy said. “I’m strictly a weed, pills, and roofies guy. None of the hard stuff. I’m always looking for people to join my team, if either of you is interested. I even have a competitive health care plan.”
I rolled my eyes, but Greg kept his composure. The second he mentioned how much the rent was, I was confident that the guy would run the hell out of here, just like everyone else did.
“So, the rent is five hundred dollars each a month,” Greg said. “And we have to split the bills evenly. Well, the water bill anyway. My dad will cover all the other ones for us.”
“Cool.” He nodded. “That sounds more than doable. I can pay an entire year upfront.”
“Um. Well, before we get to that point …” Greg scratched his head. “You smoked like two cigarettes and a blunt during the house tour, and it only took twenty minutes for me to show you everything. So—”
“So, what?” The guy raised his eyebrow.
“So, if we vote for you to move in, can you limit your smoking to maybe three to four puffs a day? Neither of us smokes, so it’ll throw off the whole aura of the house, if you do.”
“Nah, I need my weed and my smokes,” the guy said, crossing his arms. “They’re a part of me, and if I’m paying five hundred dollars a month for shared rent, I should be able to do whatever the hell I want.”
He has a point …
The guy pointed to the beach. “Are there any cameras from the house that can see out there?”
“Not that we know of,” Greg said. “Why?”
“Good.” He stared out at the water. “Just making sure I have a secure place to discipline my runners, if the time comes for that. The two of you won’t be able to sit on this deck if any of that shit ever goes down, alright?”
I shot Greg a look, and he held his hands up in surrender.
“We’ll be in touch with you after our vote, no matter what.” He motioned for the guy to follow him.
I watched as Greg walked him out of the house, and then I reached over a stack of towels to grab my cell phone. There were no new emails from my posting in the Business School newspaper, but there were plenty of text messages from Lisa and Brody. They were repeating the same fake apologies, so I deleted them.
“Okay,” Greg said, returning and pacing the deck. “So, it’s between the drug dealer, the guy who does creepy ass magic tricks with roaches and rats, and the guy who can only pay us half of the rent but says he’ll take my Sociology class and get me a guaranteed B minus ... I don’t know about you, but I’m leaning toward guy number three.”
“Shut up, Greg,” I said. “Has anyone contacted you from the Craigslist ad yet?”
“Yeah. There’s been tons of interest from the Craigslist ad.”
“Okay, so why haven’t you let any of those people see the house yet?”
“Because I accidentally listed it in the males looking for sex section, so I don’t think we should answer any of those for a while. Unless that’s something you’re interested in doing on your own time.”
I shook my head. I refused to believe that he was an Honors student.
“We have one more potential roommate coming today, but since she’s twenty minutes late, I don’t know if we should keep her in the running or not.”
“A she? As in a female roommate?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Unless you have a list of people who are interested from the Business School, I think we have to open it up to women at this point.”
“Fine. Just make sure it’s not my ex or anyone who is friends with my ex. She’s an automatic no, and your ex-girlfriend is also a no, since you’ve told me about some of the things she’s done.”
“Even if she has the money?” he asked. “And I mean, my ex only keyed my car one time. If she hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t have known that it was time to get a new car. She technically did me a favor.”
I gave him a blank stare.
“Okay, okay. No ex-girlfriends. What do you think of officially opening things up to a non-college student, then?”
The doorbell rang before I could answer him, and he stepped off the deck.
I opened my calculator app and tried to figure out how many extra hours I would need to work this month, if we didn’t get a roommate. How many hours I was going to suggest that Greg work as well, since he was the one who got us into this unfortunate situation.
“Oh, wow!” a raspy voice said from inside. “This place is amazing. The picture didn’t do it justice at all.”
I didn’t bother looking up.
An extra ten hours a week should cover us for at least three months.
“Please step further into our humble abode and get as comfortable as you’d like.” Greg’s voice sounded giddy as hell. “Have you been going to SBU all this time?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “I’ve been getting that question a lot this week.”
“I’m sure you have.” He cleared his throat. “How come I’ve never seen you around? I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but I would definitely remember seeing you around here.”
“I did Semester at Sea for three years.” She paused. “I was in the full opt-in program, but I decided not to renew for the final year.”
I immediately stilled, hoping that the raspy voice didn’t belong to who I thought it did.
“Well, I’m glad you’re deciding to join us on the real campus, then,” he said. “Let me introduce you to my roommate. I’m Greg Charleston, by the way. What was your name again?”
“Rachel. Rachel Dawson.”
Jesus Christ …
I sat up and slowly turned around in the hot tub, ready to tell her “hell no,” but I found myself looking at a woman who looked nothing like the Rachel Dawson I remembered. She wasn’t even close.
Gone were her oversized black glasses that covered half her face and ruined every yearbook photo with their glare. In place of the frizzy, wild hair that always looked like she spent too much time sticking her fingers into electrical sockets, were sleek curls that fell to her breasts. She’d even tamed the thick, brown caterpillars that she’d once called eyebrows.
I tilted my head to the side in utter disbelief, unable to stop staring.
What the hell?
Her brown eyes gleamed as she spoke to Greg and I noticed honey-colored highlights in her hair. As I looked her up and down, I couldn’t believe that she wasn’t wearing her “every-damn-day” outfit from high school. The one she bragged about wearing in all her recent letters to me.
“All I ever wear on this ship is baggy grey sweatpants and a casual T-shirt.”
There was nothing baggy or casual about her current outfit at all. She was dressed in a light blue skirt that hugged curves I’d never noticed and exposed long and toned legs that she used to keep wrapped under tons of layers. Her white and grey sleeveless top was see-through, revealing a bright red and pink bra.
I didn’t want to admit it, but this Rachel Dawson was fucking beautiful.
There was no denying it.
“This is my roommate,” Greg said, when they finally stepped onto the deck. “We just met each other a few months ago, but—”
“Ethan?” Rachel’s eyes met mine, and she stepped back like she’d seen a ghost.
“Oh.” Greg smiled. “So, you guys know each other?”
“No,” we said in unison, narrowing our eyes at each other like we’d just met for the first time, all over again.
“Ha! Okay, great!” He clapped his hands. “Rachel, let me give you the official tour.” He escorted her into the house, and I knew that my vote for her living here was still going to be a no.
A definite “hell no.”
> Dealing with her smart mouth and hot-headed-ness via snail mail was one thing. Seeing her in person, even though she was now stunning as hell, wasn’t going to work for me at all.
In fact, despite the letters we consistently sent each other over the past few years, there was always a palpable tension and sense of loathing between us, and I could never understand where it was coming from. I just knew that it was the main reason why we’d sometimes take breaks in between sending letters. When we became upset with each other over a written revelation we didn’t want to read, or when we dealt with a girlfriend or a boyfriend who didn’t understand our “enemies with an understanding” relationship.
“You’ll have access to the pool, hot tub, and all the other crazy stuff we have …” Greg’s voice trailed off as he walked her to the other side of the house.
I climbed out of the hot tub and dried off, grabbing a beer inside. I needed to make sure Rachel received my answer face to face.
“Now for the bad news,” Greg said, walking Rachel into the living room. “The rent is five hundred dollars a month—each, and this tour is just a formality. We still have to vote on who we want for our third roommate, since Ethan prefers a male.”
“Yes, I do prefer that,” I said.
She ignored me. “What about the utilities? How much are those?”
“The only one we have to split is the water bill. All the others are handled.”
“Oh. Well, I’m definitely interested in being considered—gender aside. Regardless of the vote, I’d appreciate it if I could sleep on your couch for a few nights. I can pay for that as well.”
“There’s a homeless shelter down the street,” I offered.
Greg shot me a look. “Of course, you can crash on our couch for a few days, Rachel. Do you have any other questions about the house?”
“Not that I can think of.” She avoided looking at me as she tapped her lip. “Can I call someone in private to see if I’ll be able to pay that amount?”
“Absolutely.” He gestured for her to go to the deck and waited until she was out of earshot. “Holy shit. She’s sexy as hell, Ethan.” He looked her up and down as she paced the deck. “Please don’t tell me that she’s an ex of yours.”
“I would never date Rachel.”
“Well great, then.” He was still staring at her, looking as if he was seconds away from drooling. “She officially has my vote.”
“Then we’ll need a tiebreaker.” I crossed my arms. “I vote for the drug dealer.”
“What?”
“I’d rather deal with him and his runners than Rachel.”
“Wait, wait. I’m confused.” He tapped his lip. “I thought you two knew each other. I thought you were friends.”
“We’ve never been friends,” I said. “We have a history.”
“Does that history include her paying all her bills on time?”
“It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not.” He looked at me. “We need a third roommate to help us pay the bills by the end of this week. Since she’s the most normal person we’ve interviewed thus far, and you can vouch that she’s not a psycho, what’s the problem?”
“It’s a long story.”
“Give me the CliffsNotes.”
“I’ve hated her since I was seven and a half, and we just don’t get along. We can be cordial for a few minutes here or there—hell, sometimes we can be cordial for a few hours at a time, but we always end up arguing or fighting.”
“Well, seeing as though the two of you are grown as hell now, I think that you can get over your petty childhood,” he said. “I mean, there’s no way you two actually hated each other when you were kids, right?”
“Right.” I sipped my beer.” We despised each other.”
Back Then: 9½ Years Old
Ethan
Dear Rachel,
I want you to know that no one at our school is going to miss you after you move away this week. You were the ugliest, stupidest girl in the class, and everyone always laughs at you because you are the only one who always fails the spelling tests. Your hair also always looks like a wet dog is sitting on top of your head.
GOODBYE and don’t you dare write back,
Forget You FOREVER,
Ethan
P.S.—I know that you stole my Captain America toy, so I burned your Wonder Woman doll at my cousin’s camp party last week. Hope you weren’t looking for it.
Dear Ethan,
I am so happy that I’m finally moving away from you and out of this boring neighborhood! I can’t tell you how glad I am that I won’t have to deal with you anymore. I promise I won’t ever write you another letter and I promise I’ll make WAY MORE friends than you when I get to my new house, and I hope your new neighbor is another girl who won’t like you.
I’ve already forgottin you,
Rachel
P.S.—I was the one who burned your box of video games last year. THEIR. You deserved it.
Ugh! It’s T-H-E-R-E! Why does she always use the wrong one?
I looked out my window and watched as Rachel stomped away from my mailbox, heading back to her house.
I grabbed my pen from my drawer and began writing my response. I had two hours before Rachel’s family moving van was due to take off, and I wanted to make sure I got this letter to her in time. I wanted to make sure I got to write the last word.
I’d never been so happy to see someone leave this street and I couldn’t wait until she opened her box of comics to see the “gift” of dog shit I’d left inside when she made it to her new house.
“Why don’t you two just call each other?” My mother asked, setting down a glass of juice. “It must be exhausting walking up and down the street every hour to pass notes.”
“These aren’t notes, Mom. They’re letters.”
“Oh, I see.” She laughed. “Are they love letters?”
“Ugh, never.” I rolled my eyes. “Rachel is the ugliest girl on this block, and everyone knows it.”
“Ethan!”
I shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
“It’s mean, and I know that you don’t really mean it,” she said. “Hopefully, you two will get closer and become friends over time. I think this is just a phase.”
“Nope.” I printed the ‘Forget You’ neatly in my letter and signed my name. “Now that she’s moving away, I don’t plan on ever talking to her again.”
She laughed and patted me on my shoulder. “We’ll see about that.” She started talking about all the reasons why I should be “nicer” to Rachel, but I tuned her out. Rachel didn’t deserve any niceness. Ever.
She was a liar who snitched whenever things didn’t go her way, and she blamed me for everything. The only time I took sympathy on her was when the other girls made fun of her and hurt her feelings, or when they refused to play with her and told her that she dressed like a boy. Then again, she deserved it, and she did dress like a boy.
We have some of the same shirts …
“I know your father grounded you for throwing Rachel off her bike last week,” my mom said, lowering her voice. “But how about I take the two of you to the movies this weekend, while he’s at work?”
“You can take me by myself,” I said. “I don’t want Rachel anywhere near me.”
Before she could say another word, I walked out the front door—ready to place my final letter in Rachel’s mailbox.
It was already too late, though.
Her family’s yellow moving van was pulling onto the street.
Sighing, I tucked the letter into my back pocket and looked at the bright side of things. Rachel was leaving.
Rachel was leaving. Rachel was LEAVING.
I waved at the van as it began to move faster, rolling my eyes at Rachel, as she threw up her middle finger from the back seat. I was tempted to rush out to the street and toss my parting letter to her anyway, but the van suddenly started to slow down.
Then it turned into the driveway right next to my hous
e.
Then it stopped.
What is happening?
Rachel’s parents parked the truck, and they didn’t back out of the driveway. They just sat there, as if they belonged. As if this was where they were planning to move.
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Rachel’s mom stepped out first. “I don’t know why you always give Ethan such a hard time, Rachel. He’s here waiting to help you move into your new room.”
“What did you say?” My jaw dropped. “Rachel is moving right next door?”
Her mom didn’t hear me.
My dad was suddenly at my side, patting my shoulder. “They wanted a house with a pool like ours and the James’ had finally put their house up for sale. Isn’t it funny how life works out sometimes, son?”
I was speechless, and from the way Rachel’s jaw was hanging open, she was speechless as well.
“I think we made the right decision by not telling them until move-in day.” Her father laughed and opened the back of the trailer. My traitorous parents laughed as well, and then they began helping them unload their things.
Rachel remained glued to the back seat, and I stood rooted in the grass. It wasn’t until several minutes later when my mom placed a box marked “Rachel’s new room” in my hand, that I realized that this was really happening.
The dog shit I’d left for Rachel was seeping through the box, onto my shoes.
I set it down and looked up at Rachel, wondering if I should be the “bigger person” and offer a truce, but I saw my Captain America toy in her hand. Saw her smiling at me as she held it up high.
I looked around, ready to show my mom how evil Rachel really was, but our parents were all inside.
“Give me my Captain America, and I won’t burn any more of your stuff,” I said, as she rolled down the window.
“Okay, that sounds fair.” She shrugged and stepped out of the van. She held out the figurine, but she didn’t hand it to me.
She dropped it, down the sewer drain. “Oops!”
I knew I was supposed to snitch on her for doing that, that I should run to the house and get her into trouble, but I was sick of her shit.