Rose Tyler stared at the letter, rereading it over and over as if it debating if it was real or not. The words written on pink paper, the writing at the corners, blurred where her hand had been clutching it. And that first line, "Don't freak out but.." was already doing little to quell her panic.
She could not believe what she was reading, her friend and roommate, Shireen had suddenly left, leaving Rose with no way of making the rent, the letter short but sweet, well not really.
'Don't freak out.," It started. 'But James and I are eloping today!! I know, I know, crazy, right! I promise I'll call after the honeymoon. Left some money on the table. Love you, bestie! —Shireen.
Rose just stood there blinking trying to understand what was happening, her friend and roommate had just left! On the table, a small wad of wrinkled bills leaned against an empty coffee mug with her friend's purple lipstick stain still on the rim. Rose took the money, looking at it dismayed, one hundred and fifty dollars. Rent was two hundred and due in two weeks.
"Great," She muttered at the bills before placing it down.
She rubbed her forehead over the cheap laminate countertop, trying to figure out what to do before picking up her phone, and hitting her name on her screen. Her foot started bobbing all on its own, heel bouncing, a habit when she was upset.
She waited biting her thumbnail until she heard Shireen's voice on the other side.
"Hello?" Shireen answered sounding bright and casual. It was an airport bright, a new-adventure bright. A kick in the gut bright.
Rose scowled.
"Hi, care to explain the suddenly, moving out, thing?" Rose said, angrily.
There was an awkward pause. Rose could hear something in the background, sounded like departure announcements or crowd noise, she wasn't sure?
Finally, Shireen spoke, "I know you're mad," Shireen started. "And I should have talked to you, first, but James texted at, like, five this morning, and he was like, 'I want to marry you, babe, already booked the bus, meet me at the stop,' and I just couldn't resist, I got excited and…"
Rose stopped her.
"Hang on," She interrupted, noticing Shireen's sparkly sandal still lying abandoned under a throw pillow on the brown and grey checkered couch. "This morning," She confirmed. "You told me last night you hated him. You even called him a discount Romeo with bad hair!" She remarked.
Shireen just made a guilty little laugh. "Yeah, well, maybe I was being a little dramatic. But he was all vulnerable and so sweet. He said he couldn't live without me. He even brought roses, like literal roses and a vanilla latte. And you know that's my favorite," She rambled. "I think also he wrote a poem but I'm not sure, anyway it rhymed so…"
"Right," Rose interjected pacing the carpet. "He brought you flowers, so now you're getting married. Sure, fully logical." She snorted, raising her hand.
"Now, don't make that face," Shireen warned. "You always make that face!" She whined.
Rose rolled her eyes.
"You can't even see my face." She grumbled.
"No but I can feel it through the phone," Shireen said. "Look, it's not forever. We'll do the courthouse, a tiny beach honeymoon weekend and then we'll figure out the rest. Anyway, I left you some money on the table, so you're not completely broke." She pointed out.
Rose sighed heavily, Shireen wasn't getting it!
"That's great but the rent is two hundred, I don't have enough," Rose said, trying to keep her voice level. "And it's due in fourteen days. That's two weeks!" She told her.
There was another brief pause before she spoke, again, "Well, you're resourceful!" Shireen's tone all optimistic reassurance. "Just post a roommate ad. People are always looking. Maybe you'll get someone who actually does dishes." She pointed out.
Rose bit her lip annoyed.
"That doesn't help my current situation." She said.
"Sorry!" Shireen snorted.
Rose tipped her head bac, using the water stain on the ceiling shaped like Donald Duck to calm her down. Her eyes getting teary from frustration.
"Don't cry, don't cry," She told herself.
Rose ran her hand through her short blond hair, defeated.
"But it's more than that...you just… left." She said, softly. "And with just a note? Like I was your landlord or something instead of your best friend." Rose protested.
"I know," Shireen said with some regret. "But he was there with the latte and this sweet, sincere look and it felt just…logical? But you're right, I should've talked to you."
"Yeah," Rose grumbled. "You should've."
Shireen exhaled. "I'm really sorry."
Rose frowned.
"Yeah but sorry doesn't pay rent," She said, hating how cringy that sounded.
Shireen sighed heavily, "I'll send more when I can, okay," She said quickly. "And I know my aunt can help, too" She promised. "I swear, I'm not leaving you hanging on purpose." She insisted.
"Well, you literally just left me hanging on purpose." Rose muttered under her breath.
Suddenly a crackled intercom voice echoed from the background.
"Listen, I gotta go," Shireen said. "I…I'll call you after the…"
"Honeymoon," Rose finished. "Right." She sighed before the call clicked off.
The apartment suddenly seemed quieter despite the little death rattle from the fridge and kids stomping up the stairs.
Rose set the phone down and stared at the bills again. She picked them up, studying them before hastily shoving it in her pocket. She sighed looking around the kitchen, trying to figure out her next step.
Finally, she dragged a wobbly chair to the table pulling her laptop closer and opening it. Rose began furiously typing in her Facebook account, 'Roommate wanted, ASAP. Small apartment near campus. Rent: $200. Must be okay with shared closet and a ceiling stain shaped like Donald Duck. Bonus if you can wash dishes. No creeps need apply!'
She then hovered over the "Post" button, quickly hitting publish.
Then, her eyes spotted the lipstick stained coffee mug, it felt like it was mocking her! She got up, grabbing a cloth, and started attacking the offending stain on the abandon mug. The lipstick mark wiping off in quick angry swipes.
"Goodbye, gaudy purple of roommates past," Rose muttered, scrubbing harder. "Hello, new housemate!" She grunted.
Meanwhile, across town, Campbell Bain's room looked like a thrift store had exploded. There were T-shirt scattered on his bed, Beatles posters framed his walls, tiny specks of sunlight flickered through his dusty blinds. From the living room, his parents' voices were still clashing like two separate songs playing on different stereos. They were fighting about him, again!
Unable to stand it anymore, he rushed to his closet, grabbing a duffel bag and plopping it onto the bed. He started shoving in jeans, hoodies, three pairs of socks and just whatever he needed at this point it didn't matter, he just needed to leave. He grabbed his favorite battered headphones, looping them around his neck.
"You can't let him leave," He heard his mom shout, her voice thin and jittery, going up and then dipping back down. "Just apologize! Tell him you were wrong!" She cried.
"I will not apologize for enforcing basic respect!" His dad fired back. "He thinks he can talk to me any which way because he's...because he's nineteen!" He yelled.
"No, it's because of me and just me, Campbell silently told himself, stuffing another T-shirt into the bag. "Because I'm always the problem!' He muttered under his breath.
Campbell then reached for the orange pharmacy bottle on his nightstand, shaking two pills into his palm before swallowing them back and sliding the meds into his back pocket. He paused, catching a glimpse of his parents, scowling, and yelling through the cracked door. Every movement and scowl affecting him deeply.
'He needs a real job," His father protested. "Not this radio nonsense!" He added, his words harshly stinging Campbell.
Campbell then grabbed his sneakers and the flyer for an open internship at a station across town. He slid the flyer into the front pocket of the duffel bag as the fighting continued.
"Campbell is still young," She defended. "He just needs time!" His mother insisted.
Campbell rolled his eyes, he was done! He zipped the duffel bag and quickly grabbed a pen and a sticky note, quickly jotting a 'goodbye' note for his parents, simply saying, 'I can't keep doing this. I'm sorry. Don't worry about me, I'll manage," He promised before adding, "And radio is a real job!'
He stuck the yellow paper under his pillow. Then taking a deep breath, he popped the screen on his window open and swung his leg over before stepping outside.
His parents voices still echoing from inside. Somehow, they now sounded small from out here. He swallowed, thickly, clutching his bag and started walking away to whatever future that laid out before him.