Page 7 of My Roommate from Hell
“I’ll order you a mattress topper,” she says, already taking out her phone to do just that.
I feel someone watching me. Zarmenus is still lying down, but he’s pulled his headphones down so they’re hanging around his neck. The sound of a wailing heavy metal singer comes through his headphones. It sounds like an eighties band, complete with crashing drums and screaming vocals.
I unzip my suitcase and start putting my books onto my shelf. Only a few of these are textbooks or texts that I’ll need to read for classes. Most of them are novels I love so much I needed to bring them with me. As I put them on the shelf, I feel a familiar itch on the roof of my mouth. I sneeze, and my eyes start to water.
“Bless you,” says Mom. She sucks in a breath. “Oh, sorry, Zarmenus, is that offensive?”
“Why would it be?”
“I’m actually not sure.”
It wouldn’t be. I can tell Mom is nervous and trying her best to be polite. There has been a lot of research about it, and the conclusion that was reached is that Hell is simply an alternate dimension, not the afterlife. No human, not even one deemed a sinner, has ever appeared there after they died.
I sneeze. It’s my allergies. I’m used to them. The weird thing is I only have a reaction like this around cats. My aunt Mackenzie has two cats named Blueberry and Muffin who I love, but whenever I visit they always make me feel exactly the same way as I do now. But that doesn’t explain why I feel like this with no cat present. The roof of my mouth itches and I sneeze again.
“Allergies?” asks Mom.
“Yeah,” I say, blowing my nose on a tissue.
“Here,” she says, handing me a nearly empty packet of antihistamines from her bag. “Must be something in the air.”
I swallow the tablet. From experience I know they kick in quickly, so I try to ignore the itchiness until it goes away. Could I be allergic to Zarmenus? Is that even possible?
I focus on ordering my bookshelf, sorting books by author surname.
It doesn’t take long to unpack everything. Mom and I manage to do a really good job. I have a Spider-Man poster on the wall, and a picture of my family on my desk next to a ceramic cactus Ashley got me as a going-away gift. Mr. Turts sits on my bed.
As I add the finishing touch, plugging in my rainbow desk lamp, I notice Zarmenus is watching me.
“Looks good,” he says, nodding in approval at my lamp.
“Thanks,” I say.
I check the time on my phone and a new fear creeps up. It’s time for Mom to go.
It is exciting, sure. But also terrifying.
“Walk me to the car?” she asks. “It’s nice meeting you, Zarmenus.”
“I know, I’m a treat.”
“Be nice to Owen, all right?”
“I’ll think about it, but I don’t take orders from anyone.”
I pull Mom out of the room before she can snap back.
“I’m sorry,” I say, as if it’s my fault he was such a jerk just then.
“It’s fine; he’s feisty, I’ll give him that.”
Oh shit, this is really happening. For the past few days I’ve had Mom to keep me company, and it’s been amazing. We’ve checkedout Waltham, going to some of the best food spots that I found online. They were all hipster places, the kinds that serve whatever is on trend, like souffle pancakes, kimchi burgers, or weird varieties of milkshake, like red velvet and glazed donut. It must be because it’s so close to Point, but the city has become a foodie hot spot. Each place we’ve tried was amazing. More than the food and the sightseeing, I’ve loved having Mom here because it means I’m not alone. Because I’m sure that’s what I’ll feel like as soon as she leaves. Like, yes, I might be sharing a space with Zarmenus, but he’s not family.
When we reach the car, tears have welled up in her eyes. Oh man, this is really happening. It’s fine, though, I’ve always known I’d get emotional today. It’s one of the biggest days of my life, after all.
She unlocks the car and the headlights flash. “Well, this is it.”
I laugh. “So dramatic.”
