With a knock on the door, so ends the sad tale of the housemate I obviously had a thing for but was too afraid and screwed up to do anything about it.
When I ran into her yesterday morning, I asked if she was still moving out today (yesterday – Thursday) she said yes, but she had a busy day first. ‘Oh good,’ I told her, ‘I’ll wait till this afternoon to say goodbye.’
Then, I was off to school for the day. That evening, I heard the telltale bangings of people moving things but when I went out, I was cornered by my *cough*psycho*cough* landlord trying to collect rent off me a couple of days early. Yeah… right. As Wayne Campbell once put it – and monkey’s might fly out of my butt!
the housemate I may or may not have a thing for (as I’ve been calling her for the last six months) past us by with a friend who was helping her move (and not Salmon pants, either.) So, I didn’t really get a chance to speak to her.
Later, when she was doing another trip, I didn’t go out of my room. For some reason, I just couldn’t. I was hiding. I don’t know why.
This morning, I noticed all her kitchen wares were still here, all her food and everything, still downstairs. Maybe she hadn’t finished moving, maybe she wasn’t gone for good. Either that or she’s abandoned it all… so, you know, free food.
She did return for it all though, but did I run out and talk to her, and say goodbye?
No. Of course not. I pretended, even to myself, that I didn’t hear her. Those noises were just my other housemate. Chicken. Bloody chicken.
When I needed to head down the street, as I passed through the kitchen, I checked. The kitchen wares, the food, it was all gone. All that remained on her shelf in the pantry was a packet of fantales and to chupachups.
A goodbye gift? Crap she didn’t want to take? Who knows. There was no note or anything so more than likely the latter. It’s a common thing when housemates leave.
I plugged my earphones in and switched on my audiobook. I started my walk to the shop. A wave of sadness came over me like I wasn’t expecting. That was it, she’s gone. Without a goodbye.
Part of the sad feels, i think, was that it tapped into when someone else she who shall not be named cut off all contact without word or reason. But, surprisingly, she didn’t come directly to mind.
I went into the shop, realising again how broke I am
– between school and rent being due I’m virtually penniless. Sigh – problems over problems.
By the time I got home I was already kicking myself for feeling stupid, reminding myself that we didn’t really spend that much time together, I didn’t know that much about her nor her me. Hell, she probably thought I was the biggest loser just from outward appearances. Why would she bother saying goodbye anyway.
I was somewhere between the deep sleep of an afternoon nap and simply just deep in thought when there was a knock at my door. Half expecting my *coughpsycho*cough* landlord again, I opened up ready to give her the rent money and tell her to shove it where the sun don’t shine (well, say it very loudly psychically)
But, it was her.
She just wanted to say goodbye. She was off, she said.
I had prepared what to say to her for a goodbye over the past couple of days, why couldn’t I say it now. I like you. Let’s hang out. Here Number mine call please. Bing tiddle tiddle bong.
A lame version of a conversation on my part..
I was half-napping.
No. no no no… Here. (I gave her my number which I’d lamely scrawled on paper yesterday, or the day before)
You need anything, call me.
My brain told me to say – or if you want to hang out. I like you. I already have been missing your gorgeous smile. Dammit I do like you. But all the words halted at the tip of my tongue, just behind my chipped tooth.
She thanked me.
We both fell face forward into an awkward pause Craig Ferguson would’ve been proud of.
Did she want to say something else? Was she waiting for me to say something? Was she trying to find a polite way to say I’m going forever now and I’ll probably throw your phone number into the bin on the way out?
I don’t know, I’m not fucking psychic.
She said it’d been nice living with me.
She said maybe we’ll run into each other on the street.
She said good luck with art school.
I told her maybe I’ll need a physical trainer one day (forgetting for a moment the words physical trainer and that she had deffer ed school for a while)
Sure, she said, I’ll get you outside, away from your wii.
And she headed down the stairs. She called out a goodbye to our other housemate (The one who had moved in over new years) and continued out the door.
And, so ends the sad tale of the housemate I obviously had a thing for but was too afraid and screwed up to do anything about it.
But for now, this calls for beverages of the alcoholic variety.