The Roommate Disaster

The Roommate Disaster - Seven

The Roommate Disaster - Seven

"So, how's the room?" dad asks over dinner. They waited for me to get home before they start dinner. But I'm actually wishing that they're already done so they won't be asking questions anymore.

"It's actually going good. I'm done with one wall. The landscape is so perfect you have to check it out one time, okay?" I wait for them to nod. They do, with a smile. They're very supportive. "I'll be back tomorrow to finish everything. So I'm hoping, dad..." I trail off, smiling.

"Yes, of course. You can still use the car. How's Tristan?" I'm thrown off with his question. He notices my reaction so he adds, "What? Can't I ask about him?" He turns to mom.

"That's right. How's Tristan?"

My parents are impossible.

I put my fork down and lean in the table, crossing my arms just by the edge. I smile to them both. "I just want to clear something," I start. I clear my throat. "I'm going to live with Tristan, yes, but I won't have anything to do with him other than be a roommate to share the expenses in the apartment. That means, I won't bother telling you how he is because it doesn't concern me. I hope we're clear on that." I smile.

Mom sighs. "Honey, it's not like we're thinking of something else. We just want to know how he is. He's a working student and he's a nice guy. It would be rude not to ask about him."

"Oh whoa," I chuckle. "He's a nice guy, alright. But he's not the only working student that I know. I can be a working student as well."

"Nope," dad interjects right away. "You are not working. You're just going to focus on your studies and let me pay for whatever you need. Is that understood?"

I nod. There's no way I can argue with him. I opened that conversation before senior year started and he went to lecturing mode. I didn't open it since then.

"He's fine, I guess," I answer their question. I can't win with these guys. They always get answers from me. That's how cool they are. Sometimes I hate that about them.

Mom smiles. We finish our food after that in silence. Only the clinking of the utensils on the plate is the noise we hear. I take the glass of water then my phone rings.

"What did I tell about phones during dinner?" mom asks, looking stern.

"It's in my pocket. I forgot to put it in my room," I tell her, defending myself. It's as if I made a huge crime.

"Well, turn that down. We're almost finish. It's your turn to wash the plates." She wipes her mouth. "Is there anything else you need for tomorrow? I'm going to grocery early in the morning." She stands up and wait for me to answer.

"Snacks. That's what I need because I'm going to lock myself in the room," I say.

She narrows her eyes. She's sensing something. That's another thing I hate about her, but I love that about her as well.

"I just want to finish everything. If I have food in the room, I don't have to go out and waste time, looking for something to eat," I reason out. The way she's staring down doesn't say she believes me. But she walks to the living room without another word.

Dad leans in, smiling. "She's just excited that you're living with a guy. It's been a while since we see you with someone, you know."