The Roommate 'dis'Agreement

“Why a female, though?”

I had no idea how the truth would sound to her when I explained. She was already on the fence about this, and the last thing I wanted to do was push her off, make her believe her fears were warranted. I loved how open her eyes were to the world, but even with as trusting as she could be, she was one step away from fleeing. All it would take to flip that switch would be another hint of doubt in regard to my character.

“I have guy friends, and if you don’t, let me explain what a day in that life would look like.” I cleared my throat to get into the role of the animated narrator. “I’d come home and Joe Blow would be on the couch, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other. Depending on the type of guy Joe is, dinner would either consist of pizza—new or leftover from the night before—or meat and veggies. I’m good with the healthier choices, not so much for early death delivered in a cardboard box. I’d eat, take my shower, and go to bed. If we spent any time talking, it would typically be about sports. Or the weather.”

She snickered, but continued to listen intently.

“Not all men are messy, so I can’t say I’d have to pick up after him—just like not all women are clean freaks. If Joe is a loner, things around the house would be quiet, but if he’s got a group of friends, there’ll likely be a few of them coming and going. I don’t mind other people at my house, but I have to be able to trust at least one of them. And let’s be real, if I’d chosen to live with a guy, I wouldn’t have been afforded these last few weeks of getting to know him. No man would talk on the phone to another as much as we have.”

“So you chose to live with a female because getting to know her would be easier than getting to know a male?” Her skepticism was evident in the slight lilt of her tone.

“That’s one reason, but the main reason is that I simply miss the company of a woman. I miss the conversations, the companionship only a woman can offer. I’m not saying I want someone to sit around with to talk about my feelings. But like I said, I am alone on the job. I go hours without speaking to anyone, and when I do, it’s not typically for conversational purposes. I just prefer not to come home on the weekends and be secluded in my room, or sit by myself on the couch. I can do that now. Most men don’t care about talking—they’re happy with a beer and Sports Center. I’m not. I used to be, and then I got married. I guess that’s one more thing Colleen fucked me over with.”

She was quiet for a moment, then she asked, “Why didn’t you two ever have kids?”

I blinked, oddly surprised by her question. “Uh…it just never happened, I guess. Colleen had talked about it a few times, but I didn’t feel like the timing was ever right. It’s hard to be a dad when I’m not home five days out of the week. In the end, she’d resent me, and I figured things would be better off without adding kids to the mix.”

“So you don’t ever plan to have any?”

That seemed like a strange question to ask someone you weren’t romantically involved with, but we all had things that helped us understand each other better. “No. I don’t. I have no desire to ever get married again, so therefore, I don’t ever see kids in my future.”

“Do you not like them?”

“I have no problem with them. I just don’t have any desire to have them. I like my life the way it is, and babies complicate things. If I had another job, maybe I’d feel differently, but I’m good at what I do and don’t plan on changing careers before I retire.”

“That’s a fair answer.” And just like that, the conversation was dropped. As if we’d been talking about it this whole time, Jade told me all about some summer camp she and Stevie had gone to when they were teenagers.



The phone calls continued for another two weeks before I decided to arrange a meeting. Originally, I’d asked if she would be willing to drive over here so she could see the place for herself, but she adamantly refused. I couldn’t exactly blame her—the woman probably still expected me to Buffalo Bill her. We’d joked about it, but I knew it was a lot to ask of her.

She was playing it smart, and I respected that. I even offered to meet her halfway, but she said with work, that would be difficult, and again, there was no room for argument. I appreciated her level of commitment to the family who paid her. But regardless, this meeting had to take place before any other arrangements were made. I still needed the full background check, and to do that, I had to have sensitive, personal information I would never expect anyone to pass over to a stranger on the phone. I also planned to give her mine, as well. She still seemed skeptical, and if I wanted to ease her mind, I had to offer the same as I had asked of her.

Realizing the meeting would never happen if I didn’t make the move first, I suggested I come to her. It took her a few days to agree, and then we settled on the following Saturday. Oddly enough, I was nervous to meet her, and I couldn’t explain why. I’d spoken to her on the phone, saw somewhat of an image of her, and had discovered enough preliminary history to determine she wasn’t a threat. From everything I could tell, she was who she said she was. My only guess to the anticipation I felt was that she’d back out. Or that her full history would show something I couldn’t accept.

Over the last month, she’d become a friend, someone I actually looked forward to talking to when I wasn’t bogged down on the job. If I were in the car during a reasonable hour, it was her number I dialed. At night, providing it wasn’t too late, she was the one I called, the last voice I heard before sleep. I didn’t usually get a ton of free time during the week, depending on the job, but she played along and resorted to text messaging. I’d tried to convince her to get a real phone, but she said there were other expenses she had to cover that were more important than a device that could connect to Facebook. She had me there. Although, I still wasn’t so sure what these “other expenses” were, and I didn’t feel the need to pry, considering I’d eventually get her entire credit history—even the parts that normally dropped off after so many years.

I couldn’t fall asleep to save my life the night before heading over to Fort Pierce to meet her. Too much excitement coursed through me, nerves, and an unfamiliar pang of worry stabbed at my chest. I couldn’t figure it out. I hunted people for a living. I tracked them, cornered them, and on some level—depending on how you looked at it—tortured them to get answers. I’d even gotten their blood on my hands.

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