They were 'roommates'

They were ‘roommates’

“So there’s this girl that’s wanting to rent the suite in the basement but she has a very specific condition.”

My wife, Meghan, spoke from our bedroom. I was busy mindlessly brushing my teeth, rather focused on the stubbly hair growing on my chin instead of her. I just shaved it days ago yet here the annoyance was again. 

We’d been trying to rent our renovated basement suite for a while now but to no avail. Meghan was mostly in charge of handling all the applicants, I just put in my two-cents. But all we’ve had come our way were hippies too high to even speak, rowdy frat boys with no money and one rock band looking to use the suite as their studio. 

Needless to say, I was more intrigued than the other candidates, but still busy with brushing my teeth. I mumbled back I was occupied but she didn’t listen. Meghan came into the ensuite and yanked the green toothbrush from my hand.

“I was in the middle of something.” 

“You were zoning out.” Meghan rinsed the brush from the paste and laid it on a manilla drying towel, “Did you even hear a thing I said, Chris?”

“Oh yeah, something about a girl wanting to rent but she had some like, condition? Is she sick?”

“No! Not a condition like that.” Meghan rolled her deep hazel eyes. She was frequently annoyed at how little I listened, not because I didn’t care, I just had a tendency to get caught up in even the smallest tasks. But no matter how many times she scoffed or rolled her eyes at me, our marriage was long lasting, approaching two decades. 

“Well what is it? Does she want something reasonable?”

“Yeah and it's actually rather cute.”

“Cute?” I pouted, “You haven’t called anything cute in years. Including me!” 

Meghan softly smiled and traced her delicate fingers along my cheeks. We were both warm, slightly sweaty from just getting out of the shower and I could see in the mirror before how rosy my cheeks were. 

“You’re slightly cute. But seriously, this woman knocked on our door early in the afternoon, handing me some papers with all her previous landlords and roommates praising her. And her other roommate.”

“Oh? There’s two?” 

“Yeah but listen to her story it's quite obvious.” Meghan chuckled, “She’s in her forties and has been living with this female roommate since she was sixteen.”

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Call me simple but nothing was wrong with having roommates well into adulthood. I thought that the economy we live in today, especially in Vancouver, BC was unforgiving. It was cruel even to people with two respected full-time jobs so I had no bad opinions of those having roommates for a long time. 

“I don’t get it.” I confessed. 

“She said she’s a good tenant because she never brings boys over.” Meghan said again and then paused, like she expected me to realize something obvious. But I didn’t, I still didn’t understand the conversation.

“Umm… Lady in her forties? With another lady? No boys over? Met and lived together ever since they were teens? Oh my gosh you cannot be this obtuse.”

“Well maybe I am since I’m still confused!” I said.

“Chris. What if this was a man moving in with a female roommate, one he’s had for many years? Would that make you raise a brow?”

“No. People can live together as roommates for a long time. I still don’t get the issue.”

“There’s no issue it's just-” Meghan sighed, “C’mon it's hardly brain surgery I think you can figure this out. See most women wouldn’t call their boyfriend or husband a roommate but maybe a lesbian might in fear of not getting housing.”

“Oh” I suddenly realized where she was going with this, “But how do you know that for sure?”

“Are you seriously saying you’d live with your ‘best friend’ since a teenager and never bring the other sex over? Think of it, Chris. Just you and Rob, in a house being really good roommates.”

I’d never thought of it before but so long as I’d have Meghan with me, that honestly didn’t sound like a bad idea. I’d never admit this to her but sometimes it was nice to be with just a friend, especially a really close one. The relationship was like no other, and though my wife was also my best friend, there’s something special about a platonic one in ways I can’t explain. 

“Y’know…” I stuttered, “What if that’s how some people like it?”

“But she said they don’t bring any men over? Is it not obvious enough that this is more than just a friendship?”

“But if they're both lesbians then maybe they bring other women over? Ever thought about that?” I said with pride, feeling like I got the upper hand in this conversation, “If I lived with a roommate for a long time as a gay dude of course I wouldn't bring women over but that doesn’t mean never men.”

Meghan scoffed, “But how could two lesbians live together that long and not be more than roommates?”

“Well if I put you and Rob into a house together for years would you ever consider liking him?”

“No!” Meghan said in disgust, “Never. You know I like him but never in that way. Even if he was the last man on Earth I’d never be with him.”

“Well then that proves my point then. Two people of the same sexuality can live together for years and not be romantically involved.”

“Oh well,” Meghan shrugged and turned her attention toward the sliding glass doors of our closet where she looked for a nightgown, “I guess you’re right. I wasn’t being weird was I?”

“No! I think it's funny your mind even went there. But if that’s the case then I think it’d be really cute if we had another couple living with us. Maybe we could go on double dates!”

Meghan smirked but stayed silent. She tied her wavy blonde hair into a loose ponytail and traveled to our nightstand. I followed her to the bedroom and watched her review the papers provided by who I assume was the woman over again. 

“You really wanna do this? I mean, she was absolutely sweet and I’d only assume her partner is like that?”

“But you technically haven’t met the other roommate yet?”

“No, but I’m willing to take a chance on these two. Maybe we could be the landlords they’re finally comfortable to be real with.”

I smirked, honestly excited to the future with these two if the woman was as kind as Meghan claimed, “Okay, let’s try them out. But for the record as a neurologist, who performs complex brain surgery for a living, sometimes that’s easier than another person's vague mystery.”

Meghan only chuckled, low and husky, “I know. I just like stringing you along.”