the id, the ego, & the single misfiring brain cell

My cousin moved in about three months ago. I wish all such arrangements worked as well, but if they did, this one wouldn't be so special.

I'm told that the best way to lose a friend is to be roommates with her. For the most part, sadly, I think that's true.

I lived with my best friend once for several months. We were in college together. The arrangements were fairly loose: she'd bought a trailer house and only paid lot rent (which was dirt cheap, pun intended), so she asked me to just pitch in with utilities, groceries, and help take care of her dogs. It was a great deal, and I took it (also because I'd missed her terribly for several years and just wanted to spend time with her again).

For the most part, everything worked wonderfully. When the bills came in, we split them down the middle. We split the lot rent. We went running together. We enjoyed the same shows on TV. We went grocery shopping together (and split the bill, regardless of how much either of us normally ate.

Then she got a girlfriend, and our relationship shifted almost imperceptibly, but--in my view--dramatically. If I were sitting in the living room chatting with them and something I said made her girlfriend laugh, my friend (?) would lash out at me as though I'd just hit on her girlfriend (!), or something equally "not done." It was strange, unexpected, vicious, and upsetting. I didn't know how to begin responding to her comments, so I stopped spending time with the two of them if I could; when I did, I emotionally distanced myself, because said friend would insult me in ways that might have been acceptable and even funny between the two of us, but was inappropriate and mean with the girlfriend present. Eventually, I moved out. We remained friends, but our relationship never really recovered.*

* And I don't know how anymore. When I shut out someone over a period of months or years, there comes a point when I don't know how to open that door again--and I'm not sure it's wise, anyway.

So about three months ago (I don't remember exactly when), Travis moved in. He's my cousin.* He wanted to move away from home (he's 27 and going to school, so he's independent but it just made more sense for him to stay at home with his parents rather than get an apartment) and this place has more than enough room.

* Technically, first cousin, once removed. That is, he's my first cousin's son.

Like all older folks,* I like my space and my solitude, and I don't leap at the notion of a roommate anymore. I made an exception for Travis because he's...well, he's cool. We're like-minded (religiously, politically, how we think, and what we like to do**). He's far more pleasant to be around than I am (something he gets from his mother, I think), and far, far smarter (but he doesn't flaunt it). He's also quiet and neat, and helps out around the house without me asking him. And he's just good company all around (and very funny, so what's not to love?).

* 30-ish and above, I guess.

** Much of which are solitary activities, such as reading. But we like riding bicycles and watching movies together, too.

The arrangement is working out wonderfully. He buys groceries occasionally to pitch in, but for the most part, he just makes sure the fresh produce in the crisper doesn't go bad. He cleans the theater and kitchen and such from time to time, and we spend a lot of time in the basement watching films and TV series on Netflix.

I can't imagine anything happening in this situation which might endanger our relationship. Actually, since he moved in, we've become much closer. I like to think such a development is possible in every situation, but I know better. I just got a lesson about how living arrangements can sometimes not work out.

I'd arranged to stay with a friend in Boulder during the week this semester. This was a friend I've liked a great deal from the moment we met. We're around the same age. We're liberals. We're atheists. She and her hubby are vegetarians; I'm vegan. She and her hubby take very good care of themselves, and so do I. We enjoy the same sort of humor. She's smart and self-possessed. We're both English grad students, etc. She lives in Boulder, and kindly offered me a place to stay a couple of times last semester when a nasty snowstorm was inbound. I didn't take her up on the offer, but the offer meant a lot.

When I realized that I'd be taking classes Tuesday through Thursday this semester, I asked if we might be able to work out an arrangement in which I stay with them at least some of the time. She said it would be fine; they have a guest room and I was welcome to it. We ironed out the details via Facebook PMs. I was to not cook meat in their kitchen (no problem), and such. I wrote and said I'd pitch in for groceries. She said that was good.

It was perfect. She and hubby live about 10 minutes from campus on the local bus (which is free for us students, anyway), and such an arrangement would not only allow me to spend time with someone I thought highly of and enjoyed tremendously, but would also free up more time for me to study (and perhaps even to hang out with the other grad students occasionally).

I drove up the first day of my classes, stopped at King Soopers and picked up some soy milk, cereal, and coffee creamer, as well as some toiletries, and went to their townhome. She was at work and her husband was away on business. I found the occasional helpful comment on notebook paper to train me to the rules of the household. Things like, "Please remove your shoes as moisture damages the floors." I'd already been through this when she'd shown me through her home a few weeks before, but the reminder was helpful.

I went up to "my" room (the guest room) and carefully unpacked my things. I took the towel, hand towel, and washrags to the bathroom and carefully arranged them, stacking the unneeded ones on the vanity. I laid out my toiletries--of which there are few--neatly. Then I freshened up, grabbed my school things, and caught the bus to school.

My first class of the semester, multicultural literature, was short (as first classes of the semester often are), so I returned and settled onto the dining room table with my laptop, waiting for her. I hadn't bought anything for dinner, and rather thought that it would be nice to take her out for dinner, as this was the first time we'd seen one another since the end of last semester (a bit over two weeks, I guess), and also because it seemed a simple enough gesture to someone who was opening her home to me for the semester. Besides, I'd had a good lunch and wasn't very hungry. So I enjoyed one of her husband's beers--or two, as I was waiting two hours--while I waited. Meanwhile, I played with their dog (an awesome creature, as sweet as he is big) and IM'd friends, read emails, and perused my syllabus for the semester.

She'd left a detailed explanation of where she was (again, this is awesome for houseguests; I've actually house-sat several people who didn't provide so much necessary information), so I fed the dog, as per her request, and awaited her arrival.

She came in around 8:30pm. I went to give her a hug.* but she said she was sweaty. We began chatting immediately. She's one of those people. She's been everywhere and done everything,** and tells awesome stories. Plus, she's a smartass, which I love.

* My cousin asked me a week or two ago when I became such a hugger. Honestly...I really don't know. But hugs between friends are good. I've come to believe I don't get enough (and thus, my friends must not get enough).

** OK. Not everywhere and everything, but you get the idea. I'm at least decently traveled, and she makes me look like a homebody.

She asked me to put something between my computer and the tabletop, as it was not finished, but protected with a wax coating. The tabletop was warm, which with wax, is enough to necessitate a new coating. I felt guilty, apologized, and quickly scrambled to correct my oversight.

We kept talking. She had originally planned to take one of the classes I'm taking this semester, but had found out that she could take another* in its stead. I was disappointed that we wouldn't have a class together. I already knew she was taking only one class this semester, due to personal constraints. Call me selfish, but I wanted that class to be one I was also taking.

* Travel literature, which is perfect for her. Remember how I said she's been everywhere and done everything? Yeah. :)

About 20 minutes had elapsed, maybe more. She placed a plate on the other side of the table--for her dinner--with half an avocado and a tomato neatly sliced, dribbled with extra virgin olive oil, and fresh-cracked pepper. It looked like something you'd be served in a restaurant. I glanced at it and said, "That looks delicious. Do you have any more?"

She said, "Yes, but it's my lunch for tomorrow." We both looked to the counter where another tomato and half an avocado sat.

I said, "I can bring you lunch tomorrow. My class doesn't begin until 1 o'clock. It won't be any trouble."

She said, "Well...my day tomorrow is a bit hectic.*I work on East Campus**, and it's my boss's birthday...."

* As with all dialogue, I hope to capture the idea and feeling, although I admit I'm incapable of remembering the exact words. If I misrepresent her, it isn't intentional.

** East Campus is administrative, and a decent distance from the main student center.

I said, "OK. I understand. No problem. Please...keep your lunch. I won't take your lunch. I'm fine." And I was. I'd thought a bite to eat would be nice, but I often skip dinner. It isn't a big deal to me.

She said, "You have to eat, Diana. There's a grocery store at the corner...."

I said, "I know. That's ok. I'm fine. Thanks, though. Don't worry. I'm ok." And I meant it. (In retrospect, however, I can see how she thought I might have just been trying to make her feel like it was all right when in fact it was not.)

She said, "Did you expect room and board?"

It sounded like she was quasi-joking (plus--stupid me--I didn't really understand what room and board entailed*), so I--joking back--said, "Yeah."

* Yeah. I know it's stupid. But it's true. I've always seen this term as redundant, something like "right and proper" or "way, shape or form." I was a respectable age before I realized that "flora and fauna" weren't the same thing, too.

She, apparently not seeing any of it as jokes, said, "Well, you will have to buy your own food."

I said, "Wait. What does 'room and board' mean?"

She said, "'Room' is the roof over your head. 'Board' is the food."

I said, "Oh. In that case, no. I expect to buy food."

At some point through here, I just went back to the table and turned the discussion back to her class. She'd handed me the syllabus earlier, and I simply returned to it. We talked about the things she'd like to write about, and what I thought she should write about (which she thinks are a bit boring :D), and so forth. I'd completely forgotten about dinner when she set a plate in front of me identical to the one she'd prepared before.

I said, "Thank you, but you didn't have to." And I began to eat.

In the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, bracing herself with both hands, and told me what the rules and expectations were in her home. If I drank anything or ate anything that I had not bought, I was expected to replace it immediately. For the most part, I was to buy everything I ate. I would not only buy my own food, but cook my own food and clean up after myself....

I don't remember the whole thing. I tried to stop her with "Yeah. I got it. I got it. You're misunderstanding me. I didn't expect you to feed me."

She pointed out that, while she and her husband enjoy company, they are giving up their privacy to help me, because it was a bit crazy for me to travel from and to Colorado Springs every day, and it would cost a lot for me to get a hotel, but because of this, I wasn't a guest so much as a roommate, and the expectations for a roommate are different. I said, "Yes, I know. I expected to be a roommate." She said, "I saw you as a roommate more than a guest, which means you clean up after yourself, you make your bed....."

I don't remember what all she said. I was deeply hurt by this point. I couldn't keep it together anymore. Rarely do I find myself in a situation where a friend so seriously misinterprets me, then...well, lectures me. So yeah. I cried. I told her I apparently needed to go to bed, and good night. I picked up my computer and backpack and went upstairs.

In "my" room, I shut the door. My first thought was that I should pack my things and leave. Now. It didn't matter where I went. I just needed to run from this...this...whatever was happening. Then I thought, no. I will handle this maturely. When I have achieved a different frame of mind, perhaps in the morning, after a good night's sleep (as it had been a somewhat emotional day for me before all this), I'd be ready to deal with it like a rational being.

I was chatting online with a friend when she knocked and, at my invitation, entered. She apologized (several times) for upsetting me, but. That's the key, I think. "I'm sorry I upset you, but...." She reiterated that she'd envisioned me as a roommate, not a guest (I said, "Yes, I had, too"). I was expected to buy my own food, cook it, and clean up after myself. They (her and the hubby) enjoyed houseguests....

I had, by this point, tried to explain yet again that this was just a misunderstanding. By this point, I was sitting in bed with my palms over my face. I don't like to cry in front of anyone; I never have. Covering my face was the only way I knew to cling to any dignity. She went on, repeating her expectations. She said, "There are Kleenex in the nightstand." I said thank you, but didn't move. I was waiting for her to leave. At some point she brought me a warm washcloth for my eyes, and set the Kleenex out. I said thank you, but didn't move much. Then she went back to explaining. She's sorry she hurt my feelings, but if she hadn't said anything about me expecting to be fed, after a couple of weeks, she'd have asked her husband to ask me to leave.

Around this point, I said, "Good night."

She left, closing the door gently after her. I was tired, emotionally drained. I logged off shortly thereafter and slipped into a fitful sleep.

I woke the next morning, feeling much better. I had a whole different frame of mind. I figured that, in the cold light of day, she and I could iron out our differences. I just didn't understand all the rules. That's all. We'd gotten off to a rough start. We could discuss our expectations more frankly now, and we'd be fine.

On this note, I went to take a shower. When I walked out of the room, I said, loudly, "Hello? Anybody home?" I wanted to get the day off on a good note, if possible. There was no answer. I went into the bathroom and shut the door. I took a shower, which put me into an even better frame of mind. Then I squeegeed the shower.*

* OK. I was thinking, this is nuts. It isn't part of my regular routine by any stretch, but I didn't know if this was expected or not. So I did it. I'd actually begun wiping down the shower with my washrag when I noticed the squeegee.

I completely my toilette, then carefully arranged everything. I straightened my toothbrush and toothpaste. I adjusted the towel on the rack. I went back to my room (and it's a beautiful room, in a beautiful home) and made the bed to make it look like no one had been there. Then I consolidated everything I owned to my luggage, took my backpack, and went downstairs for breakfast.

I met her and a friend as I walked through the kitchen. As I walked past her, I said, "Good morning" in what I hoped was a cheerful delivery. I had high hopes for the day. She said, "Good morning," but she seemed distracted. I remember thinking it was strange that she was there as, when she hadn't responded, I thought she was probably working. The presence of her friend, oddly, didn't make much of an impression on me at that time. I didn't know her schedule well and thought they might have just taken the dog out for a walk and were just getting back.

I walked around the counter to pour some cereal, but before I could fetch a bowl, she--on the other side of the counter--said, "Diana, I dropped down to one class this semester and gave up a teaching position.*" She went on about how she will have some unavoidable personal engagements this semester that will, in themselves, be stressful. She'd thought it would be ok to have me here, but we clearly have different expectations. I expected to be a "guest" and she expected I'd be a "roommate".....

* Which is a huge deal for grad students. A teaching position pays tuition, some health insurance, and an extra stipend to boot.

By this point, I was struggling to control myself. It was back, the messed up communcation from the night before. Before I lost control completely, I said, "So when do you want me to leave?"

Before she could take a breath, her friend said, "Right now, if you don't mind."

I said, "No. That's fine. It's her home. I'll get my things."

Her friend--who I'd met briefly before and liked, as well, frankly--said, "She's been my friend for a long time, and she's very sensitive."

I nodded and walked upstairs, consolidated my things, threw them on my shoulder, and came downstairs, straightening the stair mats* as I went.

* The dog slips if they come off, but anyone and the dog misplaces them when going upstairs.

I gathered my cereal, my soy milk, and my coffee creamer in a bag. I asked if it was ok if I left my truck where it was in the parking lot until after school. She said it was ok. My friend said something again about how she was sorry for the misunderstanding; she thought it would be a roommate situation and I thought I'd be a guest. I said, "You still don't understand. That's ok. It's probably better this way." I stooped to zip my travel bag. I was trembling.

Her friend said, "Do you want to dry your hair?"

I said, "No. It's ok. I never do."

My friend said, "I don't ever, either." Her friend offered me a ride to school because of my wet hair; I said no thanks. But it was a nice gesture, anyway. Someone said something about letting the dog in now, which struck me as odd; the dog and I got along just fine....

I picked up my bag, said something about shutting the gate after me, then realized it shut easier from the outside. I excused myself, put the housekey back, then left.

***

I caught the bus to school. I was ok, I said to me. It's a misunderstanding. It can happen to anyone. It isn't a big deal. It'll blow over. But I fought the trembling. I thought about getting off the bus and walking to school. I forced myself to think about something else.

At school, I contacted Lisarea, a friend in Broomfield I haven't been in touch with for a long time.* I'd dropped a line to her a month or two back, saying I was going to college in Boulder, and would they mind if I crashed with them occasionally. She wrote back and said something along the lines of absolutely!--then something witty, of course. So last Tuesday, I wrote from school and said, "This is short notice, but do you have a place for me to crash tonight?"

* I'd no idea how long. It's been two, maybe three years. She and her "hubby" are good friends, who I think highly of. I don't know how I managed to let so much time get by without contacting or visiting them.

She wrote back and said, "Oh! Tonight might not be good. My mother is staying with us right now and I can't go downstairs to check....*, but if you're really desperate we can clear a spot for you somewhere."

* Not her exact words, although this was all via PM, and I can access her exact words if I want. Seems fair. :)

I wrote back to say I'd look around, but I didn't require much more than 8 square feet (in any configuration), and I'd holler if I really needed to impose. As it turns out, I crossposted with Lisa; she said her mom said there was a whole 'nother room downstairs and when should they expect me? Or something along those lines. I wrote that I was inbound, and would pick up some food and such en route.

I showed up with a batch of ripe avocados and organic tomatoes, as well as some wine. We were up and talking until past midnight. I've missed them.*

* I'm a crappy friend in that respect--I don't keep in touch or visit when it's convenient, because I get so caught up in my life. The beauty of this relationship is, Lisa says she is, too. We'll be close 'til we die.

It wasn't until I got to school the next day that I checked my private messages and learned that she'd said to not bother bringing anything; they had food and needed to make a run anyway.

I left some tomatoes and avocado there. I sent her a PM saying I need to come in a day early, as I have some research to do at the library at Boulder. She said, "I hope you don't mind, but I've been drinking your soy milk. We'll pick up some more." I wrote back to ask her to please eat the avocado I left.

She wrote back this:"Oh, OK. I will, but just as a personal favor to you."

Then, in a "spoiler"--a function on internet discussion forums that allows you to click it if you want to read--she said, "I already did! I was hungry and it was looking at me."

While I regret what transpired between my Boulder friend and I--and sincerely hope we can mend it, because she's an awesome person--maybe this is all working out for the best, after all.

I can only hope that I didn't lose this friend by trying--for less than 24 hours, as it turns out--to live with her.

d