The sun is shining when my roommate asks me to join her on the roof terrace. The wind is cold, but she needs a smoke. There’s a glass of water on the table. What kind of conversation is this going to be? “I have to tell you something, and it’s about us…” she says. I frown. Her eyes fill with tears, and I hear myself let out an awkward laugh that, a few seconds later, feels inappropriate. She doesn’t want to be my roommate anymore. The second breakup this year. She’s moving somewhere else. Without me. Without me! How will we survive this? Or well… how will I survive this? I’m confused at first, then sad. We lived together for three years. Celebrated Christmas, cried, laughed, drank, smoked. Eternal conversations in the hallway when we didn’t want to, or couldn’t, sleep.
Panic strikes as I realize I have to leave my favorite place. Our apartment is actually too big for one person. And too expensive, too. This is the place where I complain mercilessly about the water pressure, where the plants are finally surviving, where, after two depressing years of living alone, I found somewhere I felt at home. I don’t really know what to say to her, so I decide to say very little. I give her a hug.
That evening, I’m having chicken and fries at my parents’ house. I dab the grease and tears from my cheeks with a napkin. The smell of the air fryer and Ajax on TV. My father smacks his lips. “And it’s really good for your friendship, too,” my mother says after a long conversation. I nod, sobbing. Friendship. That’s ultimately the most important thing. The friendship endures. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.
The next morning, we have a phone appointment with the landlord. He’s now feels more like a friend managing our lease. He can handle one of us leaving, but he’d be “very disappointed” if we both left. And as if it were no big deal, he arranges for me to stay.
Suddenly, there’s peace. And secretly: excitement. I feel like moving my bed to another room. Using my room as a laundry room. An apartment of my own, in the middle of the city. Where I can invite whoever I want, whenever I want. When I get home, my roommate isn’t there. I look around and, for a moment, feel even more at home than I already did. Yes, we’ll survive this.
