Rain pelted my window early Saturday morning as I wallowed in bed, moving my bare legs under the covers this way and that, always in search of a cooler patch.
Once I warmed one, I repeated the process, and that was the extent of which I was being a human right now. The only form of existing I was interested in.
The rain picked up, hammering the window even harder, and I was… calm.
That’s what this was.
Several nights of sleeping in a real bed, and I hadn’t even woken up in a blind panic once last night. The extra grief and guilt I’d been shouldering alongside my baseline of the latter had eased after talking with Ari, which probably helped.
I flipped onto my back and then onto my other side, my knee pillow screwing up the covers. I tugged them loose, then reveled in the new cool spots and the relieved pressure in my spine, my thoughts turning to my first meeting with Ari later today.
I hadn’t looked forward to something in a long time.
Today was also the start of Saturday morning ballroom classes at the Locc.
A softsnickof a door closing followed by a creak sounded from somewhere in the house, and curiosity got the better of me. Peeling back the covers, I eased out of bed and toward the bathroom door, freezing when my bare foot met something that was not vinyl flooring. The room was too dark for me to see what it was, so I shook my foot, and whatever it was dislodged. I took a step back and stepped right back on it, but this time it stuck to my foot when I lifted it in the air.
Reaching down, I yanked it off and tiptoed back to my bed. Using the light from my phone’s screen, I realized it was a sticky note.
Adair must’ve slipped it under my bathroom door.
I know some jokes about retirees, but they don’t work anymore
Below it, Adair’s chicken scratch was instantly recognizable, reading:
Waffles or Pancakes?
He’d even doodled a waffle and a pancake beneath the words. Something about such an innocent note squeezed my heart just as it also tried to race away. Like holding tightly to one of those weird squishy jelly things they sell at gift shops for kids.
Just when we’d gotten over the shower incident, the almost-kiss incident took its place.
It’d been a tumultuous start to our roommate situation.
I didn’t have a pen in here to write my reply. One ofthe Jacks siblings had put the gifted ones from the welcome baskets in a Live Oak plastic cup and left it on the middle of the kitchen table.
I was pretty sure there was a pencil in Gil’s tool belt.
In fact, I was sure of it.
Turning on my phone’s flashlight, I opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table and fished around inside until I found the carpenter’s pencil. It was neon orange and used down to about halfway.
Pushing away any feeling about that, I wrote my answer.
After listening intently at the door to the Jack and Jill bathroom for several seconds and then knocking lightly for good measure, I opened the door and padded to Adair’s bathroom door on the opposite side.
A small thrill raced down my spine as I slipped the note under the door and into his room.
Sunrise was still a ways off, but I went ahead and got ready for the day, washing my face over the sink, brushing my teeth, and battling the snarls out of my hair.
Ballroom dance had a whole different vibe from tap or ballet, so I opted for a breezy high-waisted skirt and a crop top. There was only a sliver of my stomach on display, but it would still get comments and side-eye from select students.
I did not care.
After grabbing a notebook and my phone, I hovered with my hand over the silver knob of my bedroom door.
I lived here. This was my home for now.
You didn’t hesitate to exist in your own home.
