As soon as I opened my bedroom door, I saw Gray cleaning up our living room. She was erasing the evidence of her core friend group’s heavy drinking. The fact that last night was the first time I’d met any of her five best friends (four in person and one online) despite all of us living in the same city for years highlighted how disjointed our social circles were.
Unlike Gray, I didn’t have a cool girl group. Instead, I had a large ‘squad’ of friends I frequently hung out with. All of whom I’d met during my last job, different gigs or miscellaneous work-related events. Which meant we all belonged to linked industries. My roommate, on the other hand, had met her best friends during a Pride Run event years ago, so their chosen professions weren’t what bound them together. Nowadays, a lot of people threw the term ‘chosen family’ around, but based on what I’d witnessed so far, that was exactly what they were to each other. Family.
In a plain white tee and maroon sleep shorts, the tattoos on Gray’s arms and legs were visible. I smiled at the sight of her bare feet which seemed paler than the rest of her since they were ink-less. Like her hands, fingers and collarbone.
“Morning!” I stretched my arms and let out a contented sigh. I basked in the warm, golden sunlight streaming through our windows.
Gray placed down the garbage bag she was holding. The noises of clinking empty glass bottles filled the air. She combed her dark auburn hair from her face, revealing her piercing blue eyes. “Hey, you’re up early.”
“Not as early as you though…” Her voice was soft, so I adjusted my own volume. “Guessing the ‘Power Rangers’ are still asleep…”
“The what?”
Instead of answering with words, I pointed at the framed, blown-up group photo hanging from one of the brick walls. One wherein all six of them were dressed as the colorful superheroes (sans masks). Blue, Green, Orange, Pink, White, Yellow. Every time I looked at my roommate in that picture, I had to grin. There was just something so oxymoronic, so paradoxical about how a person whose skin was adorned with more colors than a rainbow was nicknamed Gray and dressed as the White Ranger.
“Ah, Power Rangers-cute. Not everyone slept over, just Blue and Pink,” she informed me. “But Blue left already ’cause she has to pick up her ‘joint-custody dog’ from her ex, so it’s only Pink still snoring in my bed.”
Chuckling, I appreciated her willingness to go along with my weird superhero-thing. I racked my brain for fuzzy memories from the 90s, recalling the CRT TV in my childhood home. “I don’t remember an Orange Ranger.”
“Yeah, no, Orange wasn’t in the older shows. It’s just the six of us in the photo, but if I’m remembering the colors right… The other people we were with that day were Black, Red and Purple.”
“Gotcha.” I used the photo as a makeshift cheat sheet. “Blue Ranger is your business partner in Scope, right?”
‘Scope’ was short for ‘Scopescape,’ the online clothing brand Gray co-created and co-owned. Their company ethically manufactured and sold high-quality streetwear, e. g., hoodies, sweatshirts, tops, joggers, etc. Most of which featured graphics and prints my roommate had designed herself. The brand was still new, so they were in the early stages of ‘building awareness.’ But I was willing to bet money on their success. Their clothing didn’t just look good, it was also built to last.
“Yup, my partner-in-crime aka ‘the brains of the biz.'”
I shot one more glance at the photo. “And Pink Ranger-she’s the one you guys kept calling a ‘numbskull’ ’cause of her ex-girlfriend..?”
“We were calling her a ‘nincompoop,’ too… But yeah, you’re right. She was the one cradling a bottle of vodka when you first got home.”
I recalled the chaotic scene I’d walked into after my awkward encounter in the corridor. “Yeah, I remember. Do you guys always drink that much? I didn’t even last an hour before I tapped out… How are you functioning already?”
“We probably drink more than your average twenty-somethings… But last night, we all might’ve gone just a little bit overboard. Hence, my slight hangover.”
“Slight one?” If our roles were reversed, I knew I would’ve still been begging for the room to stop spinning. “I’d be down for a week if I were you.”
“Lightweight,” she teased.
“Compared to you guys? For sure. Your friends are great, by the way, they’re all so nice! I’m so glad I finally met the Power Rangers.”
“Wait, Cass…” She sent me an amused look. “You actually don’t remember their names, huh?”
“Not true! I remember the names of Yellow Ranger and her girlfriend.”
“Mhmm, I’m sure you do. But that’s ’cause you caught them dry humping against our door… God, those two literally can’t be around each other without touching,” she chuckled out. “We thought they’d ease up now that they live together, but if anything, they’re clingier.”
“They were not dry humping! It was just a sweet kiss goodbye,” I defended my new acquaintances. “You’re right though, I don’t remember all the names. Sorry, but like I came from work, so my brain wasn’t functional when you introduced everyone.”
“No need to apologize. You don’t need to know any of my friends’ names… You can keep referring to everyone using their superhero colors.”
“But I want to-”
“Don’t worry about it. Most of them were calling you ‘Little Mermaid,’ remember? This is like payback.” Smiling at me, she shrugged. “Oh and sorry again about that. I’d take a bullet for any of them, but they’re idiots sometimes.”
“All good.” Growing up a natural ginger, I was used to people comparing me to ‘Ariel of Atlantis.’ It was toothless stuff. “And obviously, movie-related small talk is my favorite kind… So, when everyone was singing ‘Part of Your World’ off-key..? That was right up my alley.”
“Right, that happened, too… Fuck.” She shook her head, cringing and laughing. “We were pretty drunk by the time you arrived, huh?”
“Understatement of the year,” I replied, chuckling. “By the way, why wasn’t your girlfriend here?”
“Um, our relationship is still pretty new and I don’t bring girlfriends around my friends or family until I’m 100% sure… But also, our only agenda was chewing out Pink for being dumb. And all six of us agreed years ago that it’s better not to let anyone we’re dating see what goes on during get-togethers like the one last night. ‘Cause it can get brutal and when it comes to certain things, ignorance is bliss, you know?”
“Makes sense…” I nodded. “As the saying goes, ‘no one wants to see how the sausage gets made.'”
Without another word, I moved to the kitchen then began rinsing the used glasses and other tableware in our sink. As soon as Gray realized what I was doing, she asked me to stop helping her. “Hey, no, Cass, you don’t have to do that!”
She gripped my hips from behind and pulled me away… Which was counterproductive since it just caused soapy water to drip onto the tiled floor. We struggled for a bit, but I was able to make her let go.
Although we were different in many ways, our physiques and heights were at least similar. She was only about an inch and a half taller than my 5’5″. In a fair fight, neither of us could overpower the other. “Gray, quit it. We’re both making a bigger mess,” I chastised her through my chuckles. “I wanna help. It’s a Sunday and I know you have somewhere to be soon.”
“But-”
“I got this…” I stuck my tongue out at her. “You can just finish up in the living room.”
“Fine, fine, but only ’cause I’m running late. I owe you one, okay? Thanks! Really appreciate it!”
“You don’t owe me anything, silly, but you’re welcome!”
Working together, we finished everything in no time. In a flash, Gray was showered, dressed and ready to go. She’d put on a bit of makeup, so her already-striking eyes were framed by eyeliner and mascara. She was the type to ‘dress down’ most of the time. This morning, she was wearing tight dark jeans, a black sleeveless satin top and well-worn white sneakers. The last thing she said before leaving was to call her in case ‘the dramatic knucklehead’ in her bed gave me any trouble.
Even if I’d been living with her for around a month, I still had no idea what her weekly standing appointment was. Like clockwork though, she disappeared every Sunday morning. I’d asked her about it a few times, but each time I did, she just dodged the question with a joke. I figured she preferred to keep whatever it was to herself. And though I was curious, I was the last person who’d ever advocate the revelation of someone’s secrets. Like I was deathly terrified of anyone uncovering the lower left section of my ‘Johari Window.’ My ‘facade segment’ that housed the things I knew about myself but were not known by others.
The double life I was temporarily leading was a secret of mine I planned on hiding for the rest of my days then taking straight to my grave.