The Trouble Down The Hall

Jules The door of my office opened and my boss’s head poked in. “Jules!” She called, and my heart slammed against my chest. Nothing triggered my fight or flight like the sound of Judith’s voice. “Yes.” I hid my agitation behind a neutral expression as I looked at her. “A package should be here soon for me but I’m late for a thing. Maybe you can get it for me and put it in my office before leaving?” She asked. I looked down at my wristwatch for the time because I also needed to get home. My new roommate was coming, and I needed to be there to receive him. There was still time. “Of course, I can.” “That’s good then. Bye.” “Good…” Judith slammed back the door of my office before I could finish my words. “Good night, and have fun then.” I finished, shaking my head after her. I wasn’t the first designer under a tyrannical boss, and I sure wouldn’t be the last, so I just gave a mental shrug and continued with the coloring patterns on the screen of my computer. I still had twenty minutes before I had to go home anyway, and traffic wouldn’t be a drag by this time anyway. Sighing, I worked on, until I was done and then I shut down my computer. Grabbing my coat, because of course, it was cold, I grabbed my bag and slung it over my shoulder before I walked out of my office, just as my phone buzzed against me. It was an email, and from the heading, my heart skipped because I hoped this wasn’t some bad news. Staring down at the screen, I gasped as I saw what the email was about, then for a moment, I held my breath, as if waiting for the words to rearrange themselves into something less upsetting, but they never did. Beginning February 15, the monthly rate for a private room at PurpleHearts Senior Living will be $5,800. We understand that adjustments like this can be challenging, and we truly appreciate your understanding. This change will allow us to continue enhancing the quality of services and care that our residents deserve. Challenging was indeed a word I didn’t think PurpleHearts management was capable of using given the way they keep hiking prices. I had already used my salary and the monthly rent from my new roommate to get groceries, pay for the monthly mortgage of my apartment, and sort out the other bills I had. It was exactly why I needed a roommate since Mia moved out to live with her boyfriend. Where was I supposed to get the money for this now? Maybe I would be able to sell my beat-up old car and add it to the money I had left. Sighing, just as the elevator door opened, I dropped back my phone into my coat pocket before pushing off the wall. The man who came out was holding a package, just as Judith had said. I signed the package and thanked the man, before turning over to walk to Judith’s office. It took less that ten seconds to get it to her desk and walk back to the elevator myself, going downstairs. I checked my wristwatch again. “Oh damn.” I muttered, realizing I might be late. Not late as in keep the man waiting when he arrived kind of late, but the kind where I might not be able to shower before he arrive kind. I had confirmed he would be arriving at seven thirty on the dot. Hopefully, I was at home before then. Ten minutes later, after taking the cab, money I didn’t have mind you, I rushed to the front porch of my house… well, it wasn’t really my house, at least, not until I was done paying for the mortgage of the house. I shoved the key into the lock and twisted it, pushing the door open, exhaling the kind of sigh you can only produce after surviving a full day of Judith, a little bit of traffic, and existential financial dread. Inside, I toed off my heels in the living room and instantly felt my arches sing hallelujah. The relief was so good I almost moaned. Almost. But then my brain caught up with my body. Shoes in the living room? Really, Jules? That was such a rookie mistake. The last thing I needed was my brand-new roommate thinking I was some kind of domestically challenged slob. First impressions matter, especially when you’re counting on his rent check to keep you afloat, whether or not I was going to be the landlord. I bent down, scooped them up, and padded toward my room. “Shower time, Jules. You don’t want to smell like sweat to your new roommate.” I muttered under my breath. In the bathroom, I started to shower; a scalding, lavender-scented, wash-the-day-away kind of shower. Ten minutes later, I stepped out, steam curling around me like a cozy blanket. I slipped into a white camisole and patterned green camo short shorts, the kind of outfit you would never wear outside but feels like heaven inside. A towel was twisted around my damp hair, and when I glanced in the mirror, I looked moderately fresh. And that’s when the doorbell rang. “Oh shit.” He’s early. Of course he is. The email had emphasized on him getting here at seven thirty. I padded out of my room barefoot, the towel still draped over my head like a nun’s wimple gone rogue, and pulled open the door. But it wasn’t the man I was expecting, I mean, it wasn’t the faceless Craigslist roommate whose name I had barely committed to memory. No. It was someone I hadn’t seen in years. Someone whose face I had prayed I would never have to see pressed up against my front door again. My breath stuttered. My grip on the doorknob tightened. “What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, looking up at him. Ryan Broughton, all six foot three feet of him. He had changed from the teenager I last saw, but I still recognized him. “You’re Jules?” He asked. “That’s my name, isn’t it?” I said, gritting my teeth. He nodded his head, a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “I see. It was Julia back then, but Jules is your name all right. I’m the new roommate.” He said and I dropped my mouth open, my eyes bulging in my head as I looked at him. I wasn’t sure the universe liked me at all, because of all the people in this city, in this lifetime, it had to be him.