The 5th Roommate

Stupidity

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"Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity; and I'm not sure about the universe."

- Albert Einstein

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"SORAYA, GET UP," my mom called as she shook my foot under the covers gently. "Your new roommate is arriving today. We've got to get cleaning."

I groaned at having to wake up so early. It wasn't even a school day.

"Mom, they're not arriving until tonight," I rolled over to plant my face in my pillow. "Give me one more hour."

"Nuh uh," My mom rudely took my covers off of me. "You have errands to run. You promised Belle you'd help her with her things."

I grunted, still not taking my face off my pillow. "Belle is literally my best friend. She won't mind me sleeping in." My voice was muffled.

"Her grandpa does. You know how he gets."

I groaned again. "Ugh, I'm in pain."

"From what?"

"From having to wake up early."

My mom chuckled. "Get up, lazy. Breakfast is already downstairs." She took my laundry and walked out, reminding me one last time to get up.

I reluctantly obeyed and sat up, stretching and moaning in relief as joints cracked. Out of habit, I made my bed and drank the bottled water on my bedside table. I hurriedly put on jeans and an oversized sweater, the cold making me jumpy. Then I ran down for breakfast.

My dad was already seated, a cup of steaming hot tea in front of him as he read from his k****e. Usually it would be the newspaper, but they didn't deliver it in english here, so he settled with his books.

Charles Leon actually looked like his country. You could take one look at him and say, "He's definitely from Greece."

His natural tan and fit build, his full facial hair that had streaks of white, his chiseled features, and his eyes that were the exact same shade as the Greek waters in the afternoon; everyone could see why my mom was head-over-heels for him.

"Hey, hon, you working today?" My mom walked in the room and kissed my dad on his cheek, leaning in to wrap an arm around him as he read.

My dad hummed his yes.

My mom was Persian Indian, and the exotic aura she had about her made every man swoon for her attention. My dad just happened to be the winner.

"Yazmin, my love," my dad always called my mom those three words, every time. I asked him if he ever got tired saying four syllables even when he was in a hurry. He said he loved her too much to care. "They have those herbs you want at the market. Do you want me to get some for you?"

My mom popped her head out the kitchen, tilting her head in contemplation and allowing her silky black hair to flow down her shoulders. "I'll give you a list."

Many people say I look like my mom; my dark hair, the natural almost cat-eye shape of my eyes, the arches of my eyebrows, my nose, and lips. Moreover, the feature I inherited from her that I love the most are my eyelashes. I absolutely hated mascara and curlers, so having lashes naturally thick and curled at the ends are a blessing.

The only genetic inheritance I got from my dad was his strange sea-green eyes. People say they've never seen that color before, and my mom would always tell them to go visit Greece's seas.

I rushed through breakfast and put on my boots, waving goodbye to both my parents. I grabbed my keys and put on my favorite, worn-out leather jacket that my dad had allowed me to borrow when I was a freshman. I never gave it back and it just sort of became mine.

"Love you!" I called out before walking out our door. I took the elevator down to the building's basement, where my baby was parked. We lived in a two-story apartment, right on the 34th floor. It was a nightmare when the elevator broke down. My legs couldn't function for days.

I greeted the guard sitting by the parking area and handed him my ID card that contained my bike's plate number, confirming that I was a true resident here.

"Good morning Mr. Yang!" I greeted in Chinese.

"Good morning, Little Cow." he tipped his hat. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Yes I have," I replied to his typical Chinese greeting. It was customary and a norm here in China to greet people by asking if they've eaten, and I think it's one of my favorite things about my second home. "You?"

"Don't worry about me." He laughed as I straddled my bike.

I gave him a salute and fired up my baby.

I practically purred at the feeling of the motorbike's soft rumble underneath me. The Ducati Monster 400 Cafe Racer had been a gift from my dad, knowing I shared in his love for bikes. The red on my bike always caught attention, and I secretly loved it.

I drove out of our compound, seeing old Chinese ladies perform their daily exercises of slow movements. I tried to slow down to decrease the roar of my motorcycle, so that I don't disturb them. Their music was soft and their meditation was a vital part of their day. Thankfully, they didn't seem bothered when I drove by.

I rushed by Chinese traffic; the BMWs, Mercedes,  and Porsche cars beeped in agitation. It seemed everyone had those cars in this city. People didn't even bat an eye anymore since they were such common vehicles.

In just a few minutes, I had arrived in my best friend's compound, parking my bike right outside the entrance to her building. Before I could hit the buzzer to call her, the glass door opened and my best friend did a wheelie coming out, a shovel propped up against her.

"Top of the morning to ya!" She greeted me in a dramatic voice meant for little boys on Broadway.

"Belle, your wheelies give me anxiety. You know that." I crossed my arms and frowned down at her, and she looked up at me with her big brown eyes as she stopped.

"You're being dramatic," she sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It's literally been years, and I know this wheelchair like it's a part of me."

"And we both know you're a part of me." I ruffled her curly hair.

She tossed her gorgeous brown afro and winked at me. "I know. You're nothing without me."

"I meant as in a tumor." I dodged her slap.

"Whatever, Soraya Leon. Now come help me with the garden."

I groaned and lazily followed the wheelchair-bound girl to the other side of their compound, near the pond.

"Hand me that bag, please," Belle was already focused about what she was going to do. I reached over to my side and lazily handed her the bag of dirt.

Her eyebrow raised. "You still haven't told your parents about your piercing?" She eyed my belly button.

"It's not something they need to know." I rolled my eyes. "Besides how do you know they don't already? I'm wearing a crop top."

"No pants are ever that high-waisted, you idiot."

"I'm nineteen years old, that makes me one year more legal than eighteen."

"But your parents still rule you, huh?"

I chuckled as I knelt down to help. While she shoveled dirt from the bag, I planted the seeds and covered them with the rich soil. I did gardening a lot with my dad, and knew exactly how far the seeds needed to be.

And yes, even though we were in the city, gardening wasn't strange here. Welcome to China.

"So who's the new guest?"

"Probably another old woman." I grunted as I took out a large rock. "They're always 40 and above."

"Raya, only one of them was 40. The rest were 50 plus years old."

"And by 'rest' you mean the other three. I've only had four roommates, Belle."

"Hmmm let's hope the fifth one is nicer than Mrs. Riker."

I shuddered. Mrs. Riker always forgot to wash her underwear and left them hung up around my room. Usually it's not a big deal, but when you invite your friends over and see a 54-year-old woman's underwear scattered around you'd be traumatized too. When she left last month, I've never been more relieved.

Our home was sort of like a dorm for incoming new teachers who wish to either teach the local chinese kids, or go teach in my old school. They stay with us until they find their own apartment and get settled down. And since there were only three rooms, the guests either stayed with my brother or me, depending on their gender. This time, my mom told me the guest would be staying with me.

After a few hours of working, Belle gave a big sigh and pushed back hair from her sweaty forehead. "Wanna watch a movie? My treat."

"But we're not done."

"I'm bored. We can finish this tomorrow."

"But we have classes tomorrow." And by classes, I mean teaching classes. We both decided to take a gap year before college, and what better way to spend it than to earn money teaching some rich Chinese kids English?

"Saturday, then! God, please can we just go?"

"Alright, fine!" I laughed then stood up. I looked at myself and grimaced. "But I have to get home and shower first."

"Why don't you just shower at my place, I have extra clothes." Belle was already packing up her shovel and wheeled herself ahead of me. An indicator that I push her.

"Nah, it's fine. I bought some new clothes yesterday and wanted to try them out. I'll meet you there."

"Kay. Love you." She smiled and I leaned down for her to be able to kiss my cheek. "Ew, you're all muddy." She winced.

"Who made me handle dirt without gloves?"

"Um, yourself. Duh."

Belle flipped her hair and wheeled herself inside the door while I held it open. I watched her get inside the elevator safely before waving goodbye.

Belle had an accident when she was about five years old, causing a spinal cord injury that left her paralyzed from the waist down. But none of that really stopped her. I met her when I was six, and a local Chinese boy was bullying me about my eyes. He kept saying they were "devil eyes" and that they looked like a snake's. Suddenly, this little brown girl with a crazy mass of curly hair perched on top of her proud head rolled her wheelchair over his foot, making him run to his mom crying. We've been best friends ever since.

I smiled at the memory, but then grimaced at the icky feeling of sweat and dirt as I rode my bike. The wind only served to dry up my sweat against my skin, trapping the dirt and making me need that bath even more.

As I passed by our gate on a steep hill, two tall men were carrying a bucket on two poles on top of their shoulders, heading to a restaurant.

My dumbass decided to try to drive under the bucket like what they did in movies.

However, the bucket didn't hit a helmet and flip over in the movies. The protagonist didn't get submerged in black tar in movies.

It just goes on to say that my life is definitely not a movie.

Black goo dripped down my hair and face as I gasped in shock. The two old men immediately grabbed the bucket, trying to prevent further damage.

They kept apologizing and the scared look on their faces when they realized I was a foreigner made them panic even more. I wiped tar sauce from my eyes and profusely tried to calm them down, telling them I was fine. I couldn't even get mad, they looked genuinely concerned and scared. One of them yelled at his wife to grab a towel and prepare a bath in their home, and I declined them, laughing to ease their apprehension.

"Uncles, I'm fine," I said, revving up my engine again. Despite their panic, they looked impressed with my perfect Chinese. "I will shower at home. Thank you for your concern, and I'm sorry for causing you trouble!"

"No trouble at all! Come eat at our restaurant. We will let you and your family eat for free! It's a treat." He waved his hands, hopeful that I accept his offer. When Chinese people apologized, it was often more than just words. They always gave you something in return for your forgiveness.

I nodded my head, smiling though unsure if they could see it beneath the black goo. "Of course!"

They waved as I drove home.

When I got home and the door shut behind me, I gave a big sigh as I dropped my keys in the ceramic bowl next to the it. I took off my boots, trudging to my bedroom.

"Honey?" My mom called from her room. The black tar had gotten to my ears, making her voice sound murky.

I sighed again, too focused on my intent to clean myself to answer. I walked in my room and shut the door, automatically discarding my sweater and leaving me in my lace bra and jeans. The black goo was still dripping, and underneath it, I managed to catch sight of a black suitcase on my bed. I was too tired to think about it much, thinking it was probably my mom's doing.

I opened my bathroom door.

A high-pitched scream hit through the murkiness in my ear and I was too shocked to move. My first instinct was to scream out about the intruder, but the sound of skin slipping and hitting the wet tiles piqued my curiosity. In half a second, I looked down to see a very naked, very attractive young woman lying on the shower floor, scrambling to get up from the soap-frothed floor.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I blushed profusely and immediately walked back out, slamming the door shut.

"Raya," my mom called again. "Your roommate's flight was at 5 am, not pm."

Yeah, mom. I gathered.