Page 49 of My Roommate from Hell
Am I the asshole here? Maybe. If I had the ability to let this slide, we wouldn’t have a problem. If I had a way, somehow, to bury everything I’m feeling, then things would be great. I could ride out the semester, get that internship, and my life will be sweet.
But it’s barely been a week, and I am already at my wit’s end.
“My parents,” I say.
Bell appears on Zarmenus’s desk. She drops to the floor and starts doing circles around Zarmenus’s legs, her big black eyes glaring at me.
Zarmenus gives her a scratch on the top of her head between her pointed ears.
“I got you that weird green drink you like,” says Zarmenus, putting both drinks down on the table.
“Thanks,” I say.
“And a cinnamon scroll,” he adds. “I think that’s fairly considerate.”
So he did hear me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”
“I’m glad I did,” he says, folding his arms while leaning back against the desk. “If it’s how you feel, you should say it.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be an asshole,” I say. “I like living with you.”
He arches an eyebrow. “But…”
The internship. This could risk that.
I already know I won’t make it through an entire semester the way things are going. And who says that conflict is always a bad thing? If he could just be a touch more considerate, then I wouldn’t have to repress my emotions. I might not be a psychologist, but I’m fairly sure repressing to keep the peace isn’t healthy.
“But the mess, I don’t know, it feels a little excessive,” I say. “Like, I don’t mind clothes on the floor sometimes, or whatever. But if you keep leaving food out we’re going to get bugs, and I don’t want that.”
“Ah,” he says. “Right. Listen, I get you. I never had to clean up for myself at the palace. Imps did it for me.”
Now I’m picturing monstrous flying minions doing all his tasks for him, like a princess’s animals in a fairy tale, only horrific.
“And I get that,” I say. “I do. What if we tried, like, a chore chart?”
“I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s something I did growing up to remind me to do chores. It might help you get used to doing it, I don’t know.”
“Would me doing this chore chart make you happy?”
I mull it over. I don’t exactly love being this type of person, but the truth is that yes, it would in fact make me happy.
“It would,” I say.
“Okay, great,” he says. “You whip that up and I’ll do it. Now drink your weird green drink before it gets cold. I—”
A knock sounds on our door, interrupting him.
“Were you expecting someone?” asks Zarmenus.
“Nope.”
I pull the door open and am confused for a moment, as there’s nobody out in the hall. But then I look down. A small cotton doll is lying on the floor. It’s black and white, with a pair of shiny black button eyes.
“I think it’s for you,” I say, leaving the door open to go back to my bed.
