Following the sound into the open living room-kitchen combo, I saw two women about my age rummaging around the cabinets and drawers.
My bag rested against the kitchen island separating the two rooms. “Hi,” I said. “My name’s Rory.” I held out my hand and approached the two women.
A tall woman with defined cheekbones and shiny brown hair grasped my hand and shook firmly. “Zoey. From Wisconsin.”
She wore a long flowy skirt of earth browns and greens and a beige tank top. The wooden beads on one bracelet jangled against another bangle on her wrist, and she twirled her silver ring.
“Nice to meet you. I love your bracelet,” I complimented, flashing her a polite smile.
A petite woman with curly black hair stepped forward. “And I’m Marissa.” Purple and blue highlights sparkled against her dark hair from the natural light coming through the sliding glass door. She wore cat-eye glasses, a nose ring, and I could see the tip of at least one tattoo curling around her collarbone. “I’m from LA.”
“Rory, from Boston,” I reintroduced myself. “Have you guys been here long?”
“Not long.” Marissa looked at Zoey. “Maybe an hour? We were on different flights but arrived at the same time. We realized we were roommates when we simultaneously checked in at the main office.”
Zoey scanned the empty mini-refrigerator and settled for a glass of water. “Is it cool if we share a room?” she asked, pointing to herself and Marissa. “We thought it would be easier since we got here first.” Zoey leaned across the island, her hip bones resting just under the lip of the counter.
My head perked up. “Does that mean I get my own room?” It sounded too good to be true.
“No, there’re two bedrooms, both with two single beds. My welcome packet says a fourth will be here. Jaime, I think it was.” Zoey handed me the welcome packet in the navy-blue folder that sat on the table near the phone.
I quickly scanned it and saw Jaime O’Sullivan’s name listed with ours. Jaime O’Sullivan. She sounds Irish. “Sure, that’s fine with me. Where’s our room?” I followed Marissa out of the kitchen and down the hall to the first room on the right.
She opened the door to a rectangular room like any other dorm I’d lived in, and I hoped it was big enough for Jaime and I. “This is it,” she said. Two single beds, two wardrobes, and two desks decorated the perimeter.
“Sweet! Our own bathroom?” I opened the door next to the desks and browsed through the tiny space. The shower was barely wide enough to fit one person, but I guessed it would do the job. Turning toward Marissa, a wide grin pressed against my cheeks.
“Yeah, so since you’re first, pick a side, and Jaime will have to deal with what’s left. Early bird gets the worm.”
Marissa left me in my room, and I unpacked my suitcase, finding a spot for all my belongings.
That afternoon, we explored the surrounding neighborhood and shopped at the convenience store for dinner. The frozen pizza we bought didn’t fit in our freezer, so we cooked it as soon as we got home. After shoving a six-pack of Guinness into the empty fridge, a quarter of our fridge space was gone.
“Shopping’s gonna be tough,” Marissa said, pointing to the nearly full fridge.
“Tomorrow, we should go to the grocery store. And we need to figure out how we’re doing food. Are we buying our own or splitting the cost and sharing? There’s not enough space to do a big grocery run, so I think we need to game plan when Jaime gets here,” I said, ticking off the list I had made earlier. “I wonder what she’s like.”
I paused and looked at my new flatmates, realizing that I was taking over the planning. Being an only child, most of my childhood was spent in extracurricular activities, where my leadership skills developed. Overextending myself had carried on into college when I immediately jumped into every activity I could fit into my schedule. Meeting people turned to managing people, as I tried to make sure everything ran perfectly. I didn’t want to be like that here, but I didn’t know how to be any other way.
“What time do you think Jaime will get here?” Zoey asked, seeming unbothered by my list of questions and suggestions. I let out a small sigh of relief as she adjusted her tank top and opened a can of stout.
I shrugged. “Maybe she isn’t coming. Maybe she backed out at the last minute.” It was evening now, but not dark yet. “Or maybe she’s coming tomorrow.”
“Do you want to go out tonight?” Marissa asked. “My friend studied here last semester and said there is a fun club downtown. You’ll like it if you’re into electronica and dance music.”
Zoey and I said nothing at first.
I mentally ran through my list of wanted experiences. Clubbing wasn’t one of them, but living like a local was, so if that was where the locals were, I would be there too. “Sure, that sounds great. I’ve never been to a club,” I said. “I’m only nineteen.”
“And I’ve never been clubbing or to a bar…legally, that is. I have a fake ID, but every time I go, I’m hiding in the corner waiting for the bouncer to kick me out,” Zoey said. “I don’t have clubbing clothes. What do you even wear?”
She didn’t look like the fake ID type, but reminded me of someone who listened to Phish or the Grateful Dead, hanging with a small group of friends in someone’s apartment until the wee hours of morning.
“I got you. I got you both,” Marissa said. “Zoey, come with me. I’m sure you have something that’ll work.”
The two women entered their shared room and left me in the kitchen. I cleaned the dishes, threw the trash away, straightened the counter, and checked the mini-fridge again. I visualized a half gallon of milk and three apples nestled next to the beer, with no room for anything else.
Scribbling on a piece of paper, I listed everything we needed to make our kitchen functional: paper towels, dish soap, and trash bags. Then I dug through my neatly folded clothes and picked out my tightest jeans and Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt. After brushing my hair and applying a fresh coat of lipstick and mascara, I hollered to my roommates. “You guys ready? Let’s live it up, Galway-style!”
