Short Stories

And They Were Roommates!

 She'd been pacing for what felt like forever now; her fingernails trapped between her pristine white teeth. She was pacing so fast that turning around caused her auburn hair to whip her in the face. Despite its entrapment in a claw-ponytail hybrid, the hair was just long enough to reach her eyes, its curly texture hooking around her glasses and remaining there until she would tuck it behind her ear again.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, a clear sign she had been crying. The tears still fell actually, staining the neckline of her new black dress that I'd gotten her the other day. We'd gone out during our off time during the day to find something nice for her date later in the week and spent those hours laughing our butts off at the hideous clothing matchups we could make, yelling "Oh, it's so bad!" every time we found something truly horrifying. We'd both come back to our shared dorm winded and still laughing.

The room we shared wasn't that big, probably only being two hundred feet squared; just enough to fit a small living space and two beds. Its flooring was made of hickory, which she was wearing down to splinters as she paced, and the hard surfaces were made of granite. The small minifridge in the corner was a jarring sight, being a bright colour of yellow that didn't match with the room at all. But she'd wanted it, so we got it.

She was so happy to get that fridge, the damn thing. It gave me a headache the second I saw it standing in that store front, reflecting the early morning sun directly into my retinas. I can remember the grin she gave me as I groaned after realizing exactly where her focus had dwindled off to. It was bright.

Now, though, she's not smiling. The opposite. The boyfriend she had been so eager to please during her date, with a light layer of makeup and that new black dress, didn't show up. When she called me up, asking for me to pick her up, she'd already been crying. I later found out the bastard had missed the time for the date, so when she went to make sure he was ok after not picking up his damn phone, she found him with another man. He'd cheated.

When I found that out I'd been furious. How dare he hurt her. How dare he, a low class, barely passing, university student, cheat on my best friend and think he can get away with it. I was pissed, but I knew my best friend didn't need to see me mad at that moment. So, I took her back to the dorm and have been sitting with her for the past hour.

She paced passed me again, her heels clicking against the floor. I wondered if she knew she was still wearing them, no doubt their thin straps and high heels making her legs and ankles feel horrid. "I can't believe he's done this," she suddenly spoke, the first time in an hour. "I can't believe I wasted three years with him," she continued, "three years, and I didn't see the signs?! How am I this stupid?!"

I pursed my lips, "You're not stupid. He was just an asshole." She knew that. I'd watched her pace for an hour, you think I didn't know she knew that? Her betrayal was clear; clenched fists and a scrunched face telling me she was trying not to cry again.

My heart hurt for her; we'd been best friends since we were small. Our parents had been friends, so it had only been natural that we'd became friends. Spending your entire life with someone makes it really hard to see that someone hurt; especially when you know you can't do a lot to help.

"I know!"She whimpered, her pacing coming to a slow stop, "But I really thought he was the one. I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him." She wiped at her eyes, cleaning away the tears that still threatened to fall. For a few seconds everything was quiet, the only sound being the light patter of rain starting outside. Then she huffed out a laugh, anger lacing her tone, "And they were roommates!" She exclaimed.