We’d been best friends for almost twenty years now, having met in preschool at the age of five. Inseparable ever since, we did everything together, including ravaging havoc on Glen’s grandmother’s flat when we were ten and hiding from my parents in a shabby shed in my back garden when we were thirteen. Growing up together in each other’s living rooms and basically sharing families, it had never crossed my mind to actually live together.
Her kitchen was like my own already. Her bed was as comfortable as mine as I’d fallen asleep in it gossiping more times than I could count. I knew each and every valuable piece of furniture in this living room, as well as the history they carried, and could appreciate the slightly mismatched look of them together better than anyone else could. Besides, I was here at least every other day anyway.
The fact that I hadn’t thought about it first was not lost on me, but if there was one thing Glen was good at, it was coming up with brilliant—or sometimes not so brilliant—ideas.
“What?” Glen straightened from where she lounged against me to give me a judgemental stare. Her arms folded over across her chest, and she huffed out a sharp breath. “You’ve been looking at flats for months now and not finding anything suitable. I have a spare room.”
I had been looking for a flat, ready to move out from under my parents’ roof with an unmatched eagerness for almost half a year without much success. Ever since I graduated with a business degree that I’ll likely never put to use and started giving dance lessons full-time next to my waitressing shifts in Turtle Bay.
I had enough income to not deal with the recurring clashes with Mum. She always meant well, but I was a grown-up now and didn’t need her advice every time I walked out of my bedroom. Dad just shrugged and smiled, but that didn’t make it better. So yes, I wanted out, but I’d also been picky with my choices, and never once had I considered Glen’s free room.
“It was your—” I said carefully.
“ —my grandmother’s. Yes, I know,” Glen finished for me.
It was a sore topic for both of us since we had both loved her dearly. Glen hadn’t likely opened the door to that room since her parents tidied it up four years ago. I know, I hadn’t. The thought of invading Mama Jones’ space gave me the creeps and made me the one worrying at my lower lip.
“It’s either that or I’ll lose the flat,” Glen pouted.
I was sure the situation wasn’t that dire yet. Nobody was going to take the flat away from her. She might lose warm water, WiFi, electricity, sure, but the flat itself was hers. Paid for and all.
I hesitated. “Glen, I...”
Her pouting turned into a scowl, and she slouched back into the seat, no longer leaning against me. Arms remained locked across her chest, and whatever little shine the movie had sparked in her eyes dimmed out. For some reason I thought of Mr Umbrella again and his intruding gaze. I would likely run into him more often if I were to live here. Not sure if I appreciated the idea or if the kerfuffle in my stomach was from discomfort alone.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I mean, I could stay for a while?”
“Yesss!” Glen squealed and suffocated me in a squeezing hug.
I gulped for breath as she attempted to coerce the Nutella sandwich I’d consumed back out. When she was done celebrating, we shared a meaningful look.
“Your grandmother’s room,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” Glen whispered.
Then we resumed watching the rest of the movie in contemplative silence, digesting our heavy meal and the idea Glen had come up with.
Once the movie had run its course, there was nothing left to distract us from the elephant in the room.
“Have you...?” I swallowed the lump that had risen in my throat, unable to complete that sentence.
Glen knew, though. She always knew what I was thinking. Her only response was a slight shake of her head.
After a moment, where the silence sizzled and vibrated in my ears, I braved another question. “Do you want to...?”
“I think we should,” Glen said quietly.
As if rehearsed, we both stood at the same time and tiptoed to the door we’d been avoiding for the past four years and stood staring at it, while gathering our courage to pull it open. Glen wriggled her clasped hands in front of her chest, clearly not going to be the one to open the door, so I took a deep breath and wrapped my palm around the knob not giving myself the time to chicken out.
The hinges whined a sad song from not being used for so long. Goosebumps raised on my arms. A shiver ran down my spine. For a moment, a sense of eeriness lingered around us as a dust cloud puffed up from the motion, obscuring my vision. I coughed, but once it settled, we both stared motionlessly at the room beyond.
“It’s empty,” Glen finally breathed. “Completely empty.”
And so it was. Bare wooden floorboards covered in dust were the only spectacle in this room. Darker rectangular spots indicated where the furniture used to stand, but there wasn’t even a tabouret in sight.
“Did your parents empty it out?” I wondered out loud as Glen pushed past me, leaving shuffling footprints on the grey film covering the floor.
“She used to have a canopy bed over here,” Glenn said, staring at the big open space in the middle of the room. “I always found it funny that she’d need extra curtains around the bed when the windows already had black-outs.”
