The Human Battery

Finally, I thought as I pushed open the front door. My fingers found the light switch, and I breathed a sigh as I crossed the worn threshold. Home. Behind me, I could feel my roommate, Amber, seething like a caged thunderstorm. I might be free from the party, but not from her. Never from her.

"I'm sorry," I repeated for what had to be the hundredth time that night. My stomach began to unravel from its knotted position as I collapsed back into the sofa’s familiar embrace. I steadied myself, waiting for the storm to break. 

"I just don’t understand," Amber fumed, her dark hair whipping back and forth as she paced the cramped living room. She shed clothing layers like a knight removing her armor.

That was the problem. She never understood. Amber and I lived in two different worlds. Her’s was loud and bright and brimming with action. Mine ended at the edge of my comfort zone, where things moved a little slower. Where I had time to think and breath and pause.

People always say that opposites attract. And when I first met Amber, I thought that was true. But you don’t realize how those differences grow and fester over time. Until they’re all that’s left. Until you’re standing on opposite sides of a wall, wondering why the other person can’t see your point of view.

"I got overwhelmed. The crowd and the blasting music… I couldn’t hear my own thoughts." Not to mention, I was tired. Tired of smalltalk and fake laughter and the expectations of others.

Amber rolled her eyes. "It’s a club, Sam. What were you expecting? Silence and contemplation?"

"No, I just…" I bit off the words. Why was I always defending myself? Why couldn’t my needs be enough of an explanation?

"I was really looking forward to tonight, you know," Amber continued. She sat on the ground, yanking off her favorite pair of boots. They dropped to the floor with a thud.

"It’s been weeks since I’ve had time to go out. Between work and my mom’s countless doctor appointments," she paused, eyes unfocused for a moment, frown deepening. When she spoke again, her tone could cut steel. "All I’m saying is, you could’ve hung in there for a few more hours. For me."

Amber knew precisely how to use her words as a weapon. Guilt began to creep into my chest. I took a shaking breath. "Look, I said I’m sorry. But the way you feel stuck in this apartment is the way I feel when you drag me to those clubs. I’ve had dozens of meetings this week, not to mention the extra hours I picked up at the hospital. I’m completely drained. I just need a little time to recharge."

"Recharge? You’re not a battery, Sam. You’re a human. Although sometimes you do act like a robot."

You’re not listening to me, I felt like screaming. Instead, I ground my teeth and said, "Maybe I shouldn’t go with you anymore."

"Or maybe I should find a friend that actually wants to spend time with me," Amber muttered, shoving her socks into the discarded boots. 

With those words, something inside of me snapped. I was tired of being blamed. Tired of apologizing for being myself.

"Do you think the past year has been easy for me? Living in this matchbox with you? " I rose from my hunched position on the couch. Amber looked up at me, blinking in surprise. Maybe we were both shocked to finally see me standing up for myself. "Every day you take and you take. I never have time to myself. Don’t you realize what it’s doing to me?"

If my anger was a burning ember, Amber’s was the whole campfire. She climbed to her feet in an instant, eyes dark and flaming. 

"I’m sorry that my friendship is such a burden to you. I thought you would be more grateful, seeing as it’s the only one you have."

That stung. I swallowed back unshed tears, my throat tight. "I have other friends."

"Only because of me," she practically hissed. "I spend half my time making excuses for you. 'Sorry, Sam wasn’t feeling well' or 'Sam can’t make it, she has to work overtime this week'. I lie constantly so that people won’t know how much you hate them. You say it’s so hard to make friends as an adult, but you don’t even try. You’d rather be a stuck-up homebody then connect with people."

"That’s not true!" I shouted. My hands curled into involuntary fists at my side. "Just because I need a break from people, doesn’t mean I hate them. You’d realize that if you weren’t so self-absorbed."

Amber barked out a laugh. "Self-absorbed? I came home tonight because of you. Because I didn’t want you going home alone."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" I asked, matching her snide tone. "You came home with me because you can’t stand the thought of being alone. Heaven forbid you spend one second with yourself. Imagine how the rest of us feel?"

I regretted the words as soon as they left my tongue. Amber’s cold eyes melted, tears racing in twin tracks down her cheeks. I’d struck a nerve, and we both knew it. She bent over, collecting her scattered belongings and storing them in the crook over her arm.

"I see," was all she said. It was worse than the yelling. The twists in my stomach reformed as I took a tiny step towards my friend.

"Amber, I didn’t mean…"

"Yeah," she sniffed. "You did."

She turned her back to me, picking her way out of the room and down the hall. I stood there, frozen, fumbling with the right thing to say. I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to lose her. I just wanted to be understood.

Amber’s final words of the night drifted back to me just before the slam from her bedroom door.

“I’m never going out with you again.”