by Nina Perez
I sensed a trick question. If I said no, that would be a lie. It's not like I have anything against white girls, but I grew up in a Brooklyn neighborhood where my exposure to white people was limited. It might be kind of weird to live with a white girl, but at this point as long as she could pay the rent and not get in my way, I'd live with a green girl. I tried to relay that to Myra.
"Well, I couldn't do it. At all.” she said. "We put up with enough of their nasty-ass attitudes at work without having to come home to one."
"Most of the drama at work comes from those chicks feeling threatened. I don’t think it’s about me being black. It’s just that I’m doing well and I just happen to be black. I’m this close to getting something they want.” I held up my hand, the tips of my thumb and index finger just an inch apart.
"And what happens when you come home with a fine-ass chocolate brother and she wants that?"
"Myra please, I'd have to hurt that girl."
"I know that's right!” We slapped hands in a high five.
"But you know what? I could just as easily get a trifling sistah for a roommate. Let us not forget that it was a brown woman I busted Lawrence with yesterday."
"True. But I just couldn't live with a white girl. Anyway, has he called?"
"Thankfully, no. I'm so not ready to deal with that."
"Well, he'll call as soon as he thinks of a lie he believes you're stupid enough to fall for."
"There's no such lie so hopefully he'll just save his breath.”
My laptop was sitting on the coffee table and I reached over to press the power button. I mentally crossed my fingers and toes as the MacBook hummed to life. "What are you doing?” Myra asked as she poured herself another glass of wine.
"Checking my e-mail. When I spoke to one of the girls on the phone she mentioned that she sent an e-mail first before calling. I didn't bother to check and I could possibly have more applicants.”
"So, did you get any?"
I scanned my inbox and sure enough one e-mail’s subject read, ”RE: Roommate Wanted.” I did a fist pump in the air. I was on a roll! Quickly I opened it and started to read. "Girl, listen to this. She says that the phone number in my ad was blurred on their copy of the paper, but she was really interested, so she e-mailed."
"Cool. You gonna call her now? It's still early."
"I would, but there's no number here. I guess I can just reply to the e-mail. I'll tell her she can come at four tomorrow.”
Unable to believe my luck, I typed a reply complete with directions by car and train. The email didn't specify what borough she was coming from, so I covered all bases and included my phone number in case there were any problems. The return email address was [email protected]. A few keystrokes and clicks later, and it was sent. I went to bed that night with a renewed sense of optimism and excitement. Out of five responses, I was sure I’d find one suitable roommate... right?
Chapter Two
Mixed Bag
Chloe
With the previous week turning out to be such a shit show, I didn't think my next week could be any worse. I was wrong, and it all started with my shower. Whereas the morning before I had to talk myself into getting out of bed, like a kid at Christmas I hopped out of bed on Sunday.
My usual Sunday attire consisted of PJ bottoms and tank tops. Since I wasn't going for the sloth look when meeting my future roommate, I decided on a pair of khaki capris and a white short-sleeved shirt. I spent a little longer than usual under the spray of the shower, allowing myself to fantasize about my new roommate. She'd have a great job and could afford her half of the rent. She wouldn't be a fast-ass, because I couldn't stand how Grace would bring dudes in and out of the apartment like there was a turnstile at the front door. Of course my new roommate would be smart and funny, and we’d stay up late chatting about men, life, and clothes. She wouldn't use all the hot water, she'd clean up after herself, and she'd keep the ketchup in the cabinet and not in the fridge—I hated when people did that. Ah, she'd be perfect! I turned off the water and prepared to get dressed.
Correction: I turned the knob, but the water didn't stop spraying. I turned and turned the knob and round and round it went, but the water kept coming. I briefly scanned my memory for anything I’d have done recently to piss off the universe. Not coming up with anything, I settled for slapping the knob with my loofah. My first applicant was due in half an hour. This would not do. Mumbling curses under my breath, I threw on a robe and grabbed the phone. Mr. Tucci answered on the second ring and I quickly explained the situation.
"Ah, don't worry, Chloe. I'll have someone up there this afternoon."
"This afternoon?” I shrieked. "That's not good enough. Mr. Tucci, I have five people coming to view the apartment today; one of them will be here soon. How is this going to look? Can't you get Mario here, like, now?"
"That's the thing. Mario is out of town this weekend. He's not coming back till tonight, so you can either wait till he gets in at who knows what time, or I can get my cousin Lou up there this afternoon. Lou lives on Long Island and I know for a fact that he ain’t gonna be able to get over here till later this afternoon.”
"Are you sure?” I asked.
“Positive.”
Mr. Tucci looks like something right out of The Sopranos. One time he had some of his family over and they were entering the building at the same time Myra and I were leaving. They really looked like “family,” if you know what I mean. Whatever it was that had Cousin Lou otherwise occupied that Sunday morning, I didn't want to know. I doubted it was church.
"Well, can you call a plumber or something?"
"You think we're gonna get a plumber in here on a Sunday without spending an arm and a leg? As long as the drain isn’t plugged up you're fine."
"Can't you look at it? Please?” I was desperate.
"Chloe, what happened last time I tried to fix something in your apartment?"
"We had to sleep in our coats and hats for three days until the radiator could get fixed?"
"Exactly. I'm the landlord, the lord of the land. As the lord, I have people do that stuff for me."
"But what am I supposed to tell the people coming to look at the apartment?"
"This is New York City. These things happen. I'm sure they'll understand."
I didn't have time to argue. I still had to get dressed. He was right. As long as the tub didn't fill up, I'd be fine. I hoped.
"Okay, but please, Mr. Tucci, tell your cousin it'd be great if he could get here sooner than later?"
"Will do. And Chloe?"
"Yes?"
"No freaks."
"Do I look like the type to live with freaks?"
"Well..."
"Goodbye, Mr. Tucci."
I was pretty sure he’d been kidding. He had to realize, in all the time that I'd been his tenant, that I had my head on straight and made good decisions. Well, if you didn’t count Lawrence, but he had no way of knowing about that. As I got dressed I began to feel at ease, despite my running shower. Things would work out fine. Today was the day I'd meet my new roommate. I was sure of it.
And I did. But first, I met a prophet, a chatterbox, a ghetto queen, and a woman in the early stages of menopause.
***
The chatterbox arrived first. In getting to know each applicant, I figured thirty minutes would be sufficient. I could show the apartment and still have time to make small talk. In the thirty minutes Rebecca Highsmith was in the apartment, I don't think I got one word in edgewise.
At eleven I answered the door and there she was, all blond and petite, looking cute in a yellow floral sundress, sandals, and yellow cardigan. She wore the outfit well, and I was about to tell her that when it started.
"You must be Chloe Brooks,” she said, just as perky as can be.
"Yes, and you must be Rebecca, nice to meet you." We shook hands and I waved her into the apartment. "I really like your—”
"Ooooh,” she squealed, "I absolutely love what you've done
with the place."
"Thanks, I—"
"This is IKEA, right? I can tell IKEA furniture anywhere. Love it. Absolutely love it. I get paid to pay attention to detail. I'm an art buyer. Well, in training, anyway. I've been working at this gallery here in the city and the commute from Jersey, which is where I'm from, was getting to be a bit much. I love it here in the city. So many things to do, people to meet. Just being in the city makes you feel like you're on the pulse of the world, you know? There’s nothing like that in Jersey, nothing at all. Have you ever been to Jersey? Probably not, huh? Even though it’s right next door; who in their right mind would want to visit there? Not much to see. Ooooh! What a cute little kitchen. It’s so quaint. I love it. Not that I spend that much time in the kitchen. I honestly couldn't tell you the toaster from the microwave from the blender, but this is really nice and wonderfully decorated."
"Well, Grace and I, she's my old roommate, we—"
"Is someone taking a shower?'
"Huh? Oh, that. Well, I had a little problem getting the shower faucet to shut off this morning, but the landlord is sending someone over soon to take care of it. He's really good about things like that. You can call him any time, day or night, and he'll have someone here to take care of it."
"Oh that's so good.” She sighed as I opened the bathroom door. "The place I'm in now, the landlord is a total creep. You have to be near dead for him to do anything about it. Ooh, this is different. I usually prefer my bathrooms to be decorated in lighter hues, but this is nice, too."
She was referring to the fact that the bathroom was decorated in hunter green. When I moved in, Grace hadn't done much with it. She didn't care what the bathroom looked like and told me I could decorate it any way I wanted. Since I take long baths with candles and bath oils at least twice a week, it's important to me that the bathroom be a comfortable and visually pleasing room. I didn't have much choice on colors though, since the wallpaper was primarily hunter green with flecks of cranberry. Quite a few people had complimented me on it and I was pleased with it myself. I couldn't tell now if Rebecca truly liked it or not, but I didn't have time to give it too much thought because Rebecca was talking again. Actually, she hadn't stopped talking.
"So, I guess these are the bedrooms?"
"Yes, this one's mine and down the hall here, this one would be yours." I opened the door, letting her enter the room first, and steeled myself for what I knew was coming next.
"Ooh."
Again with the squealing. It was like acid through my veins.
"I love it!"
In truth, there wasn't that much to love. Both bedrooms were equal in size and quite ordinary without any furniture in them. The only things remaining in Grace's old room was a small dresser and some framed black and white photos of black movie actors from back in the day. I thought she would want the pictures, but she hadn't contacted me yet. My plan was to leave them in the bedroom until someone moved in and then store the prints in the basement.
"The girl who used to live here left that stuff, but I planned on putting it in storage if she doesn't send for it. I—"
"Oh yes. I have my own bedroom set that was a gift from my Nana. She gave it to me when I was just sixteen and I've had it ever since. It would look so good in here. And you know what I think is just great? The bedrooms aren't too close together, because privacy is important. I think it's awful when you can hear every little thing that goes on in a person's bedroom, don't you? Not that I have a boyfriend or anything. I mean, you wouldn’t have to worry about that. Do you have a boyfriend?"
When she stopped to take a breath, I assumed that meant I was allowed to answer.
"Well, actually, I just—"
"I'm making it a point to leave certain things in Jersey, and that includes Joey, my ex. Wow! I'm really excited, aren't you? This will work out great, don't you think?"
Why was this girl constantly asking me questions when it was obvious she wasn't interested in my answers?
"Um, well, I still have other people interested in seeing the apartment, but I will call you—"
"Great, you do that. I know we would get along fabulously,” Rebecca said as I led her to the door. "Here's my card with my work, home, and cell numbers on it. I have a good feeling about this. You are so easy to talk to and such a good listener!"
I took the card, nodded, and shut the door. Such a good listener? I didn't have a choice. Damn, that girl could talk. Soon after she left I realized two things: Rebecca left not knowing one thing about me yet I knew her life story, and secondly I was not calling her back. I tossed the card in the trash.
***
Heather Blake arrived next. She was the complete opposite of Rebecca. Whereas Rebecca had diarrhea of the mouth, Heather barely said a word, and when she did speak she managed to give me the heebie-jeebies. Rebecca had arrived in a short sundress, which was appropriate since it was approaching the end of a summer that had all the meteorologists referring to New York City as The Baked Apple, but Heather was wearing a long navy blue skirt that flowed to her ankles with a matching blazer and white shirt. I felt hot just looking at her. Rebecca had been punctual and arrived right on time; Heather was actually fifteen minutes early. Heather was black, wore black wire-rimmed glasses, and wore her hair pinned back in a bun.
When we’d spoken over the phone she explained she was a bank teller in Manhattan, and was planning to go back to school part-time for a bachelor's degree. In doing this, she'd have to cut back on some of her expenses and wouldn't be able to afford the loft she rented downtown. She hadn’t disclosed her age, but looking at her I figured she had to be in her late twenties to early thirties.
"Hello, Heather. It’s nice to meet you." Heather nodded in my direction with a slight smile as she entered the apartment, taking everything in.
"You're early. I take it you didn't have any trouble finding the place."
"My church is near here. I came over right after service."
"Oh, great. Can I take your jacket?"
Please, please let me take it.
"No, thank you. I'm fine."
Darn.
"Can I get you anything to drink or—"
"No, thank you."
“Well, let me give you the grand tour. This is obviously the living room. It's very spacious, as you can see. Do you have much furniture?"
She shook her head. "I don't believe in acquiring too many material things. The Lord provides me with what I need, and that is enough."
I wasn’t sure how to respond so I just continued on with the tour. "Oh, okay. Here's the kitchen. My old roommate and I were pretty relaxed about the groceries. I mean, we sometimes did the shopping together and split the cost down the middle. We didn't worry about putting our names on stuff, you know? But if that's a problem for you, I thought I could just section off the shelves in the fridge and the cabinets and we each keep our things separate?" I opened the door to the fridge so she could see what I meant. She simply nodded and glanced inside.
"I see you drink alcohol."
Was that a question? I wasn't sure but, from the look she was giving me, I suddenly felt like the kitchen floor would open up and drop both the bottles of wine and myself into hell.
"Um, yes... well, occasionally?"
What was I doing? If Miss Holy Roller didn't like it, well, too bad. Why was I explaining myself to a stranger? I'm a grown-ass woman, and I don't have to answer to anybody so she could just... oh, there was that look again. It reminded me of the looks my mother would give me when I was cutting up in church with my cousin. I decided to move the tour along before she pinched my ear, also like my mom used to do.
Briefly I explained the problem with the shower. That, too, warranted nothing more than a nod from Heather. I led her to the bedrooms and took that opportunity to explain the rules of the building that Mr. Tucci had set forth.
"Other than that, things are pretty laid back around here. If you have a male friend that you'd like to sleep over, it's not a problem...." B
efore I realized my mistake, the words were already out of my mouth.
"Ever since the Lord spoke to me I don't indulge in such things as premarital sex."
Somehow, I was not surprised. I was about to usher her to the front door when she surprised me by placing a hand on my arm. "Chloe,” she said, like we were old friends. "The Lord spoke to me and told me that I would soon come into the life of someone in need of guidance. I have learned over the years that I've been saved not to question the Lord and His messages. Although at the time I was not sure who this person would be, I had faith in His word. I know now that person is you."
Huh?
"It's apparent to me that you need help, the kind of help that only He can provide. The Lord speaks to me and He never steers me wrong. Never. Moving in here with you would benefit us both. It would allow me to continue the Lord's work, to spread His word, and it will allow you to open your heart and give your life to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ."