Roommate

I was having a hard time sleeping.

I tossed and turned, imagining all of my past mistakes and future screw-ups, while the sheep I was counting found an open gate and made their way out to pasture. Then, just as I started to drift off, I heard the front door latch click open.

Here we go again.

My sleep has been noticeably worse ever since my roommate picked up an extra job working nights. I don’t think he ever sleeps. He must have been getting back from his shift, which meant it was probably very early in the morning.

I heard something drop in the kitchen. I didn’t dare look at the clock as I half-rolled, half-fell out of bed, simultaneously rubbing off whatever lack-of-sleep grime had accumulated on my face. I thought about putting on a shirt, but then realized that my roommate wasn’t going to care. We’d lived together for so long that there was no need for modesty. He knew everything there was to know about me.

I looked back at the bed to make sure I didn’t wake up my wife. She was curled up and clutching her pillow like it was a puppy about to be taken away. I felt bad. She wants my roommate to move out. I know that he hurts our relationship, but I keep telling her it’s not that easy. I want him to find his own place too, but I get comfort in knowing he’s around. I’d known him long before I even met her, so I don’t even know what our relationship would be like if he was gone. Plus, it might get boring only having the two of us in the same house. He keeps tabs on our place when we travel and he finds great takeout spots. He tends to leave his dirty dishes everywhere, though, which drives my wife crazy. Admittedly, his moodiness drives me a little crazy, too. I’ll get him to move out when we have kids. He’s scared of them. Says that they’re too unpredictable.

I staggered into the kitchen, squinting my eyes as I flipped the lights on. My roommate has the habit of eating in the dark because he doesn’t want the light to bother us while we sleep. I don’t think he realizes how much noise he makes stumbling around in the dark. But that’s just him: Good intentions, poor execution. Or bad intentions, good execution. Either way, the kitchen stank of half-frozen microwaved pizza.

The sofa creaked in harmony with my sigh as I plopped down next to him.

‘How was work?’ I grumbled. I didn’t really care how his work went, but I just wanted something to talk about besides my sleep problems.

He looked tired. I tried to ignore the pizza grease accumulating on his plate. ‘Eh, can’t complain. Actually, I could. But I’m not going to…’

‘Fair enough,’ I offered, trying to cut him off before he started complaining.

The smell of chemicals and taurine wafted through the pizza fumes as he slurped an energy drink.

‘Night drivers make me crazy, you know? I would think that driving would be easier since there’s fewer people on the road, but no no no no. Everyone driving is either sleepy, tipsy, or high. Or just a moron!’

‘Hmm.’ I could see that my roommate wanted to keep going, but I wasn’t about to take the bait.

‘Or a combination of all the above! And where are all these night drivers going anyways? Everything’s closed, people!’

‘Huh.’ I really wasn’t in the mood for this.

‘Trble slping, huh?’ he sputtered, loudly biting into another half-frozen piece of pizza.

‘Yep.’ I resisted the urge to add, ‘No thanks to you…’

‘You know, they make meds and supplements for that. I heard of this new one on a podcast. It’s supposed to help with adenosine levels.’ My roommate can be a bit of a know-it-all.

‘I know,’ I sighed. ‘Just a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

Before I could say anything else, my roommate grabbed my laptop sitting on the coffee table.  His greasy pizza fingers left a shiny trail across each key as he googled ‘headaches at night.’

Vague, late-night symptom searching. Rarely a good idea..

‘I wish you wouldn’t use my laptop. You know I’m going to start getting ads for headache meds now.’  How did he always seem to know my passwords? Maybe it’s my fault for reusing the same ones since I was thirteen. I made a mental note to change them.

‘Whatever. Sounds like that might be a good thing. Besides, mine’s out of battery.’ It was always some excuse. Lost… Out of battery… Getting fixed…  In the car… I could hear him chewing his half-frozen pizza while staring at the screen. ‘Oh, wow, (*crunch*) look at this! (*crunch*) You might have a tumor. (*crunch*) Or this rare auto-immune disease.’

His eyes light up, illuminated by the screen. ‘Do your (*crunch, gulp, slurp*) hands get numb, too?’ (*Burp*)

‘Oh, stop it,’ I pleaded. ‘You know this is just going to make me stress out.’ My hands did feel a little tingly. Have they always been this tingly?

‘Right… but you could have, like, an actual problem! That’s a good thing, right? At least it’s something to fix.’ My roommate seemed confused why I wasn’t taking his couch-diagnoses more seriously. ‘Do you think it’s worth getting checked out?’

My groggy brain was not processing very well. ‘No. Well, I don’t think so. Definitely not.’

‘C’mon, I’ll drive to the ER. This might be an emergency! I’ve heard that these things are always better if you can catch them early.’ As usual, my roommate thought he was helping. ‘Or, if you are actually dying then at least now you’ll know.’

I rubbed my temples to keep them from pulsating. ‘Look, thanks, but this isn’t a big deal. Besides, I’m not going to wake up my wife just to tell her that I’m casually going to the ER.’

This was escalating. I needed to change the topic. ‘How about a quick game of chess? I think that would help take my mind off things. Plus, I bet that you wide awake can’t beat me half-asleep.’

I stood up and dug an old chess set out of the TV stand.

‘Alright, fine, you’re on.’ I knew that would get him. My roommate tends to be hyper-competitive. ‘What are we wagering?’

Ignoring his risk-seeking tendencies, I pretended not to hear him.

‘Black or white?” I joked dryly as I set up the pieces.

He’s always black. He refuses to be white because he hates going first. He likes to wait for me to make my move, watching, analyzing. Ready to strike at any moment. Then, win or lose, he smugly jabs that I got to go first.

--

‘Hey, wake up, it’s your turn.’

I must have dozed off. I looked out the window to see the gray fingers of dawn poking holes in the night sky.

I looked down at the board. A handful of pawns and two kings. Another stalemate.

My roommate looked restless. ‘I’m bored, let’s just call it a draw. This would have been over a lot faster if I’d gotten to go first for once.’

I immediately doubted whether it was worth getting out of bed for this. Even though I wasn’t really in the mood to go outside, I thought that a run might do me some good. I like jogging in the morning, before the sidewalks get crowded and my brain gets preoccupied with the daily to-dos.

‘Sounds good. I’m going to try and get some exercise.’ I hoofed off the sofa, tip-toed into the bedroom, and pulled on a hoodie. My wife was still asleep, but the pillow she was clutching was now on the floor. I hoped our conversation hadn’t woken her up. I grabbed my sneakers and retreated back to the living room.

‘I think I’ll tag along,’ my roommate whisper-yelled over my shoulder.

I didn’t say anything. The apartment suddenly felt stifling. When does this guy actually sleep?

I tied my shoes and stepped out into the apartment corridor. One of my neighbors rushed past me in a jean jacket covering light-green scrubs. I tried to softly say, ‘Good Morning,’ but was cut off by my roommate bumping into me as he left our apartment.

He watched my neighbor power-walking down the hall.

‘Wonder where she’s off too in such a big hurry,’ my roommate muttered. ‘Would hate to be her.’

‘Probably doing her best,’ I offered.

‘Nah. She’s probably late. Again. With impatient patients.’ My roommate nudged me. ‘Eh? Eh? C’mon, stop dragging, let’s go already.’

I could see how my wife found this irritating.

We ambled out to the street and started jogging. Actually, more like walk-jogging. I’m a faster runner than my roommate, but we conveniently tend to always go at his pace. This time started no differently. I slowed down.

We jogged in silence. I thought about the upcoming day to distract myself from the feeling of tiny snakes nipping behind my eye sockets. I thought about my poor night’s sleep. I thought about yesterday’s worries and tomorrow’s fears. I thought about my roommate. My feet felt heavy. I slowed down even more.

‘You alright?’ he panted.

‘Sort of.’’

‘ER time?’

I decided I’d met my worry quota for the morning. I quickened my pace.

‘Hey! Slow down! What about your headache?’

I ran faster. Faster and faster. I sprinted down the road, suddenly in a race against the early morning light. A breeze picked up and I felt my breath rise and fall with the wind through the leaves.

The sound of my roommate’s plodding shoes scraping the concrete behind me grew more distant. Then, I only heard the sound of my own breathing. I kept running. Faster. Harder. This felt good. I counted out the steps in my head: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 …

I powered through my round-the-neighborhood loop and eased my pace as I saw my apartment building. My starved lungs gratefully absorbing big gulps of the cool morning air. I stopped and looked over my shoulder. A man in an orange beanie sipped his mug while his dog sniffed around a fire hydrant. I gave him a small wave. He raised his mug a few inches in return.

My head wasn’t hurting anymore. The sun was peeking up over the horizon. It looked like it was going to be a glorious day. Things might turn out alright after all.

I caught my breath as I waited. 1 minute. I did some light stretching. 3 minutes. The man and the dog shuffled away down the sidewalk. 5 minutes. Forget it.

I quietly opened the door to see if my wife was awake yet. She was standing at the kitchen sink with a big glass of water. Two perfect things.

As I entered the room, my chest felt heavy again. My roommate must have caught up with me. I could feel him seething over being left behind. My headache came back too. My hands definitely felt a little tingly.

‘I call shower!’ My roommate pushed his way past me.

My wife took a sip from her glass and looked at me over the rim. She looked tired. The bright sun beamed through the window.

I shrugged. ‘Looks like it’s gonna be a hot one today. I didn't sleep well and my head hurts. Do we have any coffee?’

‘Coffee?’ My roommate poked his head through the door. The wall of steam meant that I’d probably be taking a cold shower. ‘Better make that two.’

—