Coffee cups and Shirts

Her side of the room was bare when I walked into the dorm with two coffees in hand. The only things left were eight shirts laid on the bed. 

“You're dropping out?” That was my first question. Which was rather useless because it was already clear she was. 

“What does it look like?” She sighed as she stuffed a stained shirt in a suitcase. “What does it matter to you anyway?” This time her eyes meet mine. 

I locked her gaze for a second, before darting my eyes away quickly. “You're my roommate…” I say quietly.

“Not anymore.” She stuffed another shirt in the suitcase with a huff. There were still six more shirts on her bed. 

I set the second coffee on the shared nightstand between our beds. “I got you coffee… Just how you like it…” 

“How would you know?” A hint of a smile at a joke we both know. It faded quickly as she took a sip. “Hmmm, I'll miss this.”

“You don’t have to!” I say quickly. “You can stay…”

“You know I can’t, I’m failing every class,” she begins to pace “I’m wasting my time and money. Might as well drop out, my dad did and he’s fine.” 

“Fine? Is that all you want in life? A giant glob of fine?” She stops pacing and turns towards me. “Life can be so much more than just fine! I want life to be great and colorful! Scratch that, I need it to be!” I take a gulp of air. “This is the first step to that, don't you see?” 

“You have no right to tell me how to live my life! I can be great! I can be colorful! But this can’t be my first step!” She stalks back to her bed and stuffs two shirts into the suitcase. 

“I’m sorry, Monique,” I grab her arm with the hand that doesn’t have my coffee in it. “Don’t leave, I can help you pay if you need it!” I took a huge step back hoping I didn’t say the wrong thing.

Her eyebrows lifted in anger. “Excuse me?” With a flash she was in front of me again. She slammed her finger at my chest. “I don’t need your pity, I don't need your charity, and I sure don’t need you! You came to this school because it was farthest away from home, but not so far that you couldn’t access your trust fund! I came here because it was closest to my home, and the closest to my price range! God,” she ran her hand through her hair, removing it from my chest. I felt a slight absence. “I should have done this three months ago.”

“Monique…”

“No, I’m done. This is my life.”

“Don’t drop out because of me!” I reached for her hand to show her I was sincere. 

“That’s not fair!” She screamed as she stepped away and reached for her suitcase. “You don’t get to make everything about you! I wanted control over one thing, My thing. But, you went ahead and made it a us thing!” She started to push the remaining shirts into the suitcase.

“Monique, you can’t just quit!”

“I’m not quitting, just… reevaluating” Her hands went still over the bed. One shirt remained. “I’ll live at home, I’ll get a job. I’ll go to community college next year.” She nodded to herself, seemingly sure of her decision.

“What about me?” I said exasperated.

“What about you?” 

“I’m your friend! Am I not in the equation at all?”

“Friend…” Her eyes darted to the coffee cup sitting on the nightstand, then to mine still in my hand. “Coffee, weekends. I decide when.”

“Ok,” I said slowly.

A ping echoed through the room. Her phone glowed from the nightstand. 

“My car is here.” She folded the last shirt and set it gently in the suitcase.

“Ok.”

She walked past me still standing by the door. Her suitcase rolled behind her. Halfway out the door, she turned back to me.

“When your next roommate arrives, please remember they exist. They aren't a toy in your life. Hear them, see them, and don’t…” She paused. “Don’t…Try to fix all their problems, because sometimes our problems are the only thing left of us.” She turned back around and walked off. 

I shut the door quietly. I looked back to my now half-empty room. Was this all building up under my nose? How did I not realize what I was doing? I thought I was helping. I thought I was fixing things. Was I only breaking them down?

I had caused this. This was all my fault…

A ghost of the conversation came back to me. “But, you went ahead and made it a us thing!”

This was never my decision. It was always hers. She was the right to choose what she wanted to do. A small laugh escaped me, it was cynical and quiet. What now? Run down the halls like I’m in some early 2000s movie? That would only make it about me again. What should I do?

The next best thing. I took a sip of my now cold coffee. I thought back to all the times we had interacted, I was the main talker in all of them. I never allowed her to actually have a friendship. After all, can I really even call her my friend?

I’ll have a new roommate soon.

I nodded to the air.

I’ll be better.

I’ll hear.

I’ll see. 

I’ll work on myself, and afterward meet Monique for coffee. 

A small smile.

A better life.

I looked back to the coffee cup on the nightstand. I walked over and gingerly picked it up, afraid if I touch it I'd break it. But, it was already broken. The cardboard was soft, I had gotten them from the eco-friendly place down the street. It would start to leak soon. So would mine, which hasn’t left my hand since I first walked into the room. 

I walked over to the trash can by the end of my bed. Throwing them away you would think would make me feel something, but it didn’t. All I thought was, maybe I should get a different flavor next time.