Once Gray had shown up though, and they removed the TV from the wall and packed up her gaming stuff, I couldn’t stand being there anymore. Making up some vague excuse, I’d left the apartment in a rush. Since I had nothing to do, I’d ended up watching a horror movie in the cinema alone to kill time. I’d hoped that the gruesome and gory death scenes would help me adopt a ‘things-could-be-worse perspective’… But nope.
The sun was missing by the time I’d made it back to Apartment 202. Frozen in place, I’d stood by the door for god-knows-how-long, just trying to get used to how empty our home looked. Even the framed photos on the brick wall were absent. Only their dusty imprints remained. A dirty reminder of what used to be, of what was gone. Then and there, I’d promised myself I’d move into a new place posthaste. Because if I’d already found inanimate objects vanishing that painful, I didn’t want to stick around until it was time for Gray to disappear, too. How I’d felt was almost unbearable, so more than that was unimaginable. Which was why settling for this tiny, characterless, subpar condominium unit was the best decision I could make.
“I’ll take it,” I told the building’s employee. He congratulated me on my ‘new home.’ I couldn’t fault him for his misplaced cheerfulness. He probably made most of his money from commissions.
In a futile attempt to feel better, I reminded myself that my new dull surroundings were just temporary.
. . .
I smiled at my ex-roommate who was sitting on the still-bare mattress in my new room. Her layered, long dark auburn hair was partly sticking to her face because of the sweat she’d built up while helping me move in. She tucked some strands behind her ear, revealing a constellation of piercings.
“Damn, you have a lot of stuff.”
“Well, I did warn you yesterday that you were gonna regret offering to help me, remember?”
“Who said anything about regrets?” She challenged with a grin.
Due to consumer culture, I had more junk now than I did when I’d first moved into Apartment 202 almost a year ago. My logical brain knew that for a fact… And yet, somehow, my emotional heart still felt like I was leaving my old home with nothing of actual value. As far as the bleeding, beating muscle was concerned, all the items I owned were nothing more than a herd of worthless white elephants.
“Thanks again for the help,” I replied. “So… What do you think?”
“It’s-” She was obviously trying to find the right word. “It’s cozy. Yeah, it’s giving off ‘hospital vibes’ now, but a splash of color will fix that. Once you get some new furniture, hang up a few photos or art prints… It’ll be great,” she said optimistically. “I just wish you had a kitchen.”
She was right. My new place was bleak. At the moment, the only colorful item in view was the open coloring book on my single-size bed. With that said, even if we painted the walls neon, and hung up party garlands and a goddamn disco ball, I knew I’d still find my ‘shoebox unit’ depressing.
“Doesn’t matter, this should be enough for now.”
“Well, I’ll visit you a lot,” she promised. “We can watch movies on your laptop, order pizza… Seriously, I’ll be here so, so often, you’re gonna think we’re still back in Apartment 202.”
“Alright, if you say so.” I flashed her the best smile I could muster. I wished I was capable of being as hopeful as she was. But I knew in my heart that this new place would never be home to me. “Looking forward to it, Gray.”
. . .
For the first time ever, I woke up in my new bed. Now that I was conscious, the scenes from my most recent dream were getting foggier by the second. I at least knew it was a happy one that heavily featured Gray though. I checked the time on my phone and grimaced. It’d taken me ages to fall asleep last night, so I knew I’d be waking up later than usual… But in bed past noon was still pushing it. Forcing myself to get up, I made some coffee and sat in front of my window. Although I was nowhere near the top floor, I was high enough for everything below my bird’s-eye view to resemble toys.
As my eyes scanned my new sights, my mind tried and failed to recall my dream more clearly. I let out a frustrated groan. I was catastrophizing, but I pondered over how a nightmare could be better than a dream… Like at least waking up from a nightmare was always a relief, while waking up from a dream was always a disappointment. I berated myself for being so melodramatic and emo-edgy. Shaking my head, I retrieved and opened my laptop.
“You gonna make your own movie, kiddo?”
Whenever I didn’t like how dark my thoughts were, I always watched this video. Although I’d seen it so many times before, my eyes still teared up. Long ago, along with a bunch of my classmates, I was taught that physical pain was necessary since it was a biological distress signal. One that told a person when to take extra care of themselves or how to fix whatever hurts. I wondered if emotional pain also had a greater practical purpose. If the raison d’etre of the former was to improve upon the present, what was the utilitarian function of the latter if the past had already been determined? Or was it basically the difference between resolution and conclusion? Between alteration and acceptance?
“Nothing’s wrong with having big dreams. But you know what your goal should be? What you should work toward? To live a life that’s so fulfilling, your dreams are left with no choice but to mimic your reality… You think you can do that?”
My ears perked up. Ever since, I’d interpreted that piece of fatherly advice as him directing me to ‘stay hungry.’ To tirelessly chase my professional goals until I was living in a dreamlike reality. But what if I’d mistakenly had it in reverse? What if it had never been about reshaping reality? What if it had always been about loving the mold, the pattern? The gestalt shift, the sudden change in perspective was heart-stopping, mind-altering. As if on cue, once my dad had finished promising me to be there every step of the way, my phone flashed ‘Norma Bates.’
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, Cassandra. Are you okay? You sound a little off.”
“I do?” I faked obliviousness. “Mm, I’m fine… Still getting used to the new place, so I didn’t sleep very well last night,” I informed her. “Anyway, I was just watching an old video Dad took of me and I was wondering if you remember it. In it, I’m fiddling with an old camera and talking about my dream movie.”
“That’s the one where he told you I’ll act in it for free, right?” A sense of nostalgia was palpable in her tone. “I definitely remember that one.” I heard her laughter and the sound made me smile. “I haven’t seen it in years though, can you email me a copy?”
“Sure.”
“What’s wrong?” She asked and I still denied that anything was amiss. “I’m your mom, I know when something’s going on.” My lower lip quivered as more hot tears filled my eyes. “Tell me what’s happening, so I can help.”
“Just going through a lot.”
“You’re heartbroken, aren’t you?” She correctly concluded after a long, silent pause. Maybe it was a good guess, maybe it was ‘mother’s intuition.’ No idea. “I didn’t know you were dating someone new. Who is he? What happened?”
“I am heartbroken, but there’s no ‘he’ and I wasn’t dating anyone.” In reply, she asked me to ‘please stop speaking in riddles.’ I decided to just be upfront with her. “I’m heartbroken over Gray, Mom.”
She kept quiet once more. She was probably processing the fact that I was coming out to her with no preamble whatsoever. But when she spoke again, the only perceptible change I heard was the different pronoun she was using. Unsurprisingly, the news didn’t upset her since it didn’t make her love me any less. “Gray? She’s your roommate that you always post pictures of… The one with the tattoos?” When I didn’t speak up, she continued. “She’s very pretty.”
“Yup. She is, isn’t she?” Her unexpected compliment broke me. All of a sudden, I started crying like a little kid. Worried by my outburst, my mom begged me to explain to her what I was going through. “I don’t- I’m just- it hurts so, so much,” I admitted. “Everything hurts so much.”
“Aw, my Cassidy, it’ll be okay.” She used that unmistakable mom-voice I hadn’t heard from her in so, so long. “Can you tell me what happened between you two? Why did you break up?”
“We didn’t break up, we were never together.” I was hiccuping because I was sobbing so hard. “But this is the most heartbroken I’ve ever been. I’m so, so in love with her, but she doesn’t want to be with me.” She proceeded to ask if Gray was straight, which would’ve made me laugh if I wasn’t in the state I was in. “No, she’s not, she’s actually…”
For the first time, I opened up to my mom about my love life. She knew I’d had boyfriends (she’d even met my so-called ‘high school sweetheart’). We’d never had a heart-to-heart about any of my past relationships though. Not once. But truth be told, my exes were ‘nothing to write / call home about’ and as with most things, Gray was a game changer.
Excluding the explicit, inappropriate information, I told my mom about how and why I’d fallen so goddamn hard for my ex-roommate. Despite my melancholia, with my words, I painted mine and Gray’s life together in the brightest and boldest colors. To do our story justice, I did my best to encapsulate as much of the time we’d spent living together as I could. I hoped that the pieces of our past that I brought up provided an accurate picture… I hoped they expressed how truly magical of a chapter it was for me. Because although my stay in Apartment 202 didn’t end the way that I wanted it to, it was still the greatest time of my life.