My first date showed up very late and very drunk. I suggested that we could potentially reschedule, and jokingly mentioned that it might be possible to meet each other sober. He proceeded to break down in tears. Countless pats on the back later, I went on my way. The subsequent dates were not any better.
The next date lifted up his shirt and casually blew his nose into it while we were at dinner. There was the one who legitimately proposed to me. And then there was the one who never showed up. Actually, he did text me three hours later saying he “might not make it.”
A few weeks into this blender of shit guys, I went on a date I actually enjoyed. We ended up going out on a second date. That deep-rooted “guy is probably an asshole” fear popped up every now and then, but I tried to push that sucker away. I managed to be only slightly distant. Was my luck changing? After a few more dates, we were beginning to really hit it off, so I let my guard down. Shortly after that, his friend let it slip he had a girlfriend. So much for my changing luck. I quit searching for dates for a bit after that.
Many months later, Cooper and I ended up at the same bar together, and I must have gotten too drunk because I ended up giving him my number again. One week later, I received a text from him asking if I wanted to go out with him to get food. Surely I had been still drunk because I agreed to it. We were soon hiking and going to art museums together, and compared to the others, he didn’t seem so bad. The cruel world lowered my expectations for dating so far that I ended up with the bumbling idiot, Cooper.
Three
Will
I grabbed my luggage from the sidewalk and began lugging it up the stairs. I distracted myself with thoughts of my new roommate so I didn’t focus and pull the handles off my suitcase. Would he be like my first college roommate? Jolly and generous? I wouldn’t mind one like him. He’d been super considerate. He was vegan too so he’d never eaten my food.
I reached the front door, double-checked the house number, and fumbled for the doorbell. Ringing it was harder than anticipated with both hands full. Thankfully, the door opened after one ring, and I was able to stumble into the split-level house. To the relief of my burning muscles, I set my suitcases down and briefly scanned what appeared to be the dining room.
A female face popped from behind the door and cleared her throat.
“Oh, sorry!” I moved so she could shut the door.
“No worries.” She wore a nonchalant smile. “You must be my new roommate.”
“That I am,” I said. Nice response. It looked like I was regressing back to the middle school days when I kicked trees instead of being able to talk to girls.
She nodded and turned to walk up the few stairs to the dining room. “Do you need a tour?” she said. “I’m Kristen, by the way.” I melted at the slightest hint of her smile.
“Sure, let me just put my things away.” I answered without moving.
After several endless seconds, she interrupted our silence. “You do know where your room is, right?”
I shook my head. With little time left to live, I hadn’t put much logic into my decisions. Perhaps I should have asked the landlord for pictures of the place. She pointed down the stairs that led from the landing I stood on. I flashed a brief smile and dragged my luggage down after me. I ran my hand along the wall, looking for the light. She had a nice face: smoldering, dark-green eyes that were framed by her dark-brown hair. It was a straight cut and ended a few inches below her shoulder. She’s the type, I thought, finally finding and flicking the light switch on.
Ugh, blinded. I always forgot about my light sensitivity. How long had I been standing there mentally drooling over my new roommate? I blinked the colorful stars from my eyes before throwing my bags into my room. I took the steps back up two at a time, eager to get a tour of the house.
Kristen showed me the dining room first. It was a small room with a table that sat four. A small TV sat upon a dresser and on the adjacent wall were two windows which looked out onto the street. I asked how often she had friends over. Not often. She did mention a best friend that she saw on occasion, but I couldn’t determine much more than that. My new roommate liked to keep things close to the vest. That didn’t stop me from being intrigued, though.
“Our next stop is the kitchen. It’s actually not a great one. We’re missing a blender, and only half the stovetops work,” she said, leaning against a counter. The way she stood revealed the flash of a colorful tattoo on her arm.
“Our landlord won’t replace them?” I asked, fighting the bright distraction.
“He says he will, but he hasn’t.” She shrugged.
Still thinking of her tattoo, I missed my cue for responding.
“Last winter, the heat was broken and he never fixed it,” she continued. “I had to buy a space heater.”
“Damn, he sounded nice enough over email,” I said.
“I thought the same thing.” She smirked. “Come on, I’ll show you the living room.”
We walked into the next room over. It had two couches and a decent-sized TV. She sat on one of the couches—I sat across the room. I feigned interest in the room, looking at the curtains, out the screen door, and even noting the carpet, but all the while I was really trying to distract myself from the demure beauty who sat across from me. Although, demure wasn’t quite right. She was reserved, but she had an edge to her. Her smiles were smirks, but in the best way. I shook my head. How was I going to live with her if I couldn’t even focus on the tour? Considering today she simply wore sneakers, jeans, and a rugged tank top, I didn’t like my chances.
“And that’s essentially the house. Upstairs is my room, and that’s a mess,” Kristen said.
“So, a solid seven out of ten, I’d say. Get us a new landlord, and we could have a solid eight.” I chuckled.
“Good luck with that, man. It’s already like he doesn’t exist. I drop the check off in some random mailbox and never hear from him otherwise. Especially when the house needs something.”
“Well, I’m just glad I didn’t end up with a murderer for a roommate. Although, I guess I can’t be a hundred percent sure yet.” I smiled.
“You should be good. I only accidentally killed my goldfish when I was seven.”
“Well, now I’m glad I left my pets back in Maryland,” I teased. “Hey, want to come watch me unload my socks?” Unpacking was the worst. I could use the company, gorgeous or not.
She checked her watch, bit her lip, and looked briefly to the ceiling.
“Sure, I need to go pick up my check from work, but I can keep you company while you unpack.”
“At this hour?” I asked. It was almost dark. She nodded.
While we trekked downstairs to my room I asked her what she did for work. She was a barista at a local coffee shop. But she had started writing seriously recently and was hoping to quit work soon to focus on that. A brief grimace crossed her face. Something there, I suppose. I told her I was looking forward to reading her writing, but judging from the way she laughed I doubted I’d be doing that anytime soon.
The two of us reached my room, and I kicked open a suitcase, breaking the clasp. Damn it. I absentmindedly began taking things out while we went over the basics of our lives. Five minutes later and I had only moved a few pair of socks to my desk and fiddled with my toothbrush.
Getting up to put it in the bathroom, I asked why the other roommate had left.
“The last person to stay here before you was an interesting case. I want to say she lost her mind due to the lack of heat. One day I just heard her stomp from her room to the kitchen and yell something about a Mr. White Christmas. It almost sounded like she was singing—but in an angry way. It was eerie. I was too scared to go down.” She ran her hand through her hair. “Then something slammed, and surprise, surprise, she stomped her way up to my room. This time sing-yelling about a Mr. Snow Miser and a Mr. Ten Below. It was truly odd. So I locked the door, but she never actually knocked. Eventually, the sing-yelling turned into sob-yelling and asking for Mr. Heat Blister. Sh
e left about an hour later. I heard the door slam and she never returned.”
I was speechless at this point, laughing internally, but still speechless. This was good news though. There was simply no way I could top that oddity. I’d be the perfect roommate in comparison. Well, unless I suddenly dropped dead and she had to remove a corpse from the house. No, no, that was unlikely, I thought, trying to reassure myself. Once I had recovered from my disbelief that such a human like her old roommate existed, I was able to speak again.
“I think that’s from a children’s movie. I’ll have to look it up and show you.”
“That’d be nice to know. I know I can have my weird moments, but that took the cake. I stayed in my room that night. The next morning all her belongings were gone.” She leaned forward. “Literally—all of them—her bed included. I don’t even think the bed was hers!” A wide smile broke across Kristen’s face as she slid down the wall and took a seat.
“I guess I’m automatically an improvement then,” I said. “Oh, hey, do you mind if I clip my toenails in the kitchen? I like to get good elevation when I clip.”
Her face went blank. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes.” I let out a controlled laugh. I wanted to avoid a guffaw. “I could see you already planning on moving out.”
“I was just calculating the percentage of that being real, and the chances I had of getting away with murder.”
“Wow.” I pretended to pack up my stuff. “Please don’t kill me.” I began to joke, the smile dropping from my face once I realized I was here in Portland because I didn’t hate the idea of dying anymore. Why wait a year?
“What?” she asked, noticing my crestfallen expression. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said. Should I even bother telling her why I came to Portland? That I have some sort of weird sometimes-superhero disease? No, not yet. “I’m cool.” I half smiled. “Do you need any company to pick up your check?” I asked.
“Yeah, that’d be cool. Let me just go get my jacket.” She rose and disappeared up the stairs. I looked around my new room, not having unpacked much of anything. I half-heartedly chuckled to myself and followed her up the stairs.
We arrived at the coffee shop half an hour later. I sat and stared out of the front window of the cafe while she went into the back. The setting sun warmed my face as I waited.
I liked Kristen. Barring unforeseen circumstances, she would be a good roommate. It was a good start to my last year, even if she had a boyfriend. He had called her while we walked. I wasn’t going to judge him based on a secondhand phone conversation, but he did sound a little too fratty for my liking. Nonetheless, it didn’t matter. Never mess with roommates. Kristen and I would be wonderful friends. Hopefully she’d help me go out with a bang. My thoughts always came back to death. I clenched my fist and slowly released as Kristen reappeared from the back of the shop.
“Want anything to drink?” she asked.
“Yeah, but you’re going to have to surprise me,” I said. “I have no idea what those drinks are.” I pointed at the menu. “Although, I know the more sugar the better, I think.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said with a pleasant smile.
Looking back out the window, my thoughts drifted back to my first impression of Portland. It was a dreary, but tolerable day to arrive; I only needed a light jacket. The people seemed nice enough. I attempted to avoid thinking of Kristen, but my thoughts inevitably stalled as they circled back to her. I sure knew how to develop crushes. I lusted with the best of them.
Kristen set a cup with something brown and frothy in front of me as she sat down across the table. Taking the straw, I tasted the drink and was pleasantly surprised.
“So, you wanted to know why I am here?”
She nodded.
“Well, I’m looking for a change. I just graduated from college and had no job lined up. My degree was for plans I have no interest in pursuing now. Essentially, I was stuck. But my friend Daichi lives out here. I half joked with him about coming out here to start a food truck business. It became less of a joke and more of a reality when we bought a truck to convert. We’re in the food business now.”
“Cool. Like an ice cream truck?”
“Exactly. It’s not a career, but I only need something to last me through my last year.”
“Your last year?” she asked. “Of what? Are you sick?”
“Well,” I started, “no doctor I’ve been to can figure out what’s wrong. I received an invitation to be studied at PISP but I don’t have high hopes. So I suppose you could say I’m here for that. But I probably wouldn’t have come if Daichi wasn’t here. I’m just about ready to give up.” I thought I’d have lasted longer than a couple of hours before divulging all my secrets. “But yeah, Operation One Year Left. I’m scheduled to expire in about a year’s time. What about you?” I asked, attempting to change the subject. I didn’t even like thinking about it, let alone having a discussion.
She checked her watch, “Well, looks like I’ve got about sixty-three years left.” She smirked.
I chuckled and returned a smile before clarifying. “What about you? What brought you to Portland? Unless you’ve always been here.”
“I’ve been here and there. But, this has been home for a couple years now. It’s nice.”
“Fair enough.” I nodded as I sipped my increasingly delicious drink.
“You like that drink, don’t you?”
I looked up at her, still sipping.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said as a small snort escaped her.
My eyes went wide, and I coughed my mocha-something all over the table. I’m sure we drew the eyes of other customers, but I didn’t notice as I laughed into my sleeve.
“Well then,” she said as she placed her hands on her slightly red face and shook her head.
I finally recovered and grabbed a napkin to wipe my tears and spillage. “Maybe it’s time to go.”
“Yeah, I’d say so. Unfortunately, I’ll be back tomorrow for work.” She was still shaking her head, but thankfully she wore a small smile.
“I’m so sorry.” I beamed. “Hopefully they’ll forget by then.”
We collected our things and made our way outside. It had gotten a bit more chilly as we silently continued down the street.
Four
Will
“So, how’s the roommate? Does he seem nice enough to deal with for a year?” Daichi asked when he picked me up for my first day of being studied at the institute. We also planned on getting a bit of food truck preparation in after. Unfortunately, we still weren’t ready to open.
“Actually, it’s a she and she seems cool.” He didn’t respond, and I couldn’t resist continuing. “She’s pretty, and I don’t know if it’s her normal outfit, but she was wearing some sneakers, like those Converse ones, with some jeans and a tank top. It suited her perfectly.”
“Great! Now I can hear about this girl for the next forever,” he joked.
“Not all of us are so fortunate to have our love fall into our lap, Daichi.”
“Again, true.” Silence fell over the van.
“Okay, go on. I know you have more to say about her.” He gave a brief eye roll.
I internally cheered at him for allowing me to indulge in my crush rambling. “Well, if you insist. Where to start . . .” I steepled my fingers and tapped the tips together rhythmically. “Ah, I know. Despite not knowing the movie, The Year Without a Santa Claus, she has an ideal personality.”
“How long have you talked with her?”
“Like, two hours, why?”
“No reason. Continue.”
“Anyway, she’s chill, interesting, funny, but still slightly edgy, but not in a cringey kinda way—a perfect combination.”
“Will—slow down. You used, like, six descriptors there.”
“Sorry, sorry.” I fanned myself with our food truck to-do list.
“It’s cool; I know what those types do to you.” He winked.
I sat alone inside the institute, waiting for them to call my name. There were no magazines to hold my attention so once I had finished the required paperwork, I examined the waiting room. It was a normal enough room, stark white with a few chairs. Not many chairs for an institute, though. They must only accept a few patients, given that they only deal with the rarest of illnesses. They had seemed eager to study me so I assumed I must be one of a kind. At least I was special in that way.
The more I looked around the room, the less I thought of it as a normal room. There were no windows and no decorations: no plants, pictures, and no TV. The half a dozen chairs and the window for the receptionist were the only thing keeping the room from being a white solitary confinement room.
There was another door though, one that likely led to the treatment and examination rooms. It opened and a tall, silver haired man emerged. When I say silver, I don’t mean white or gray. His hair was literally silver, it had to be dyed. He wore all white. A lab coat hung over his slender body with a mask covering the bottom half of his face. He looked down at the chart and read from it before his head swiveled in my direction. His icy blue eyes were visible all the way across the room.
“Will?”
I stood. “That’s me.”
He nodded and held the door for me before leading me down a hallway and depositing me into a room. Everything resembled the waiting room—incredibly minimalistic. I hadn’t seen any other doors or other rooms leading off the hallway.
“The doctor will be with you shortly,” he said through his mask, examining me for a brief moment more before letting the door close behind him.
I was left alone once again. My eyes wandered but found much of the same stark décor although there was the addition of an examination chair and a cabinet complete with sink.
I took out my phone and scrolled the internet, waiting for the doctor to arrive.
About ten minutes later, she finally arrived. She was quite young. I would have guessed fresh out of college. She had brunette hair and sharp facial features. Her smile filled the dull room with a decent vibe.
Transfer_An Urban Fantasy Romance Page 2