The Invisible Roommate

Finding a roommate – especially when you’ve just moved to a new city – is like playing a slot machine. You might hit the jackpot and make a friend for life, or you may end up stuck in very close quarters with a creature from the depths of the abyss. When you’re desperate, though, you just have to pull that lever and hope for the best.

I got matched with my roommate, Jon, on the Roommate Finder app. It seemed like a relatively safe proposition - Jon worked second shift, and I worked first shift. Worst case scenario, we would only see each other in passing. I was a bit concerned that Jon had grown up in the area, and yet had to resort to an app to find a roommate, but maybe he was just a homebody and didn’t have many prospects.

Things started out fine if a bit underwhelming. I knew I wouldn’t see Jon much, but I wasn’t expecting to never see Jon. We signed our leases separately, and Jon moved all his stuff in while I was at work. Our bedrooms were on separate sides of the living room, and both had an attached bathroom. We only had to leave our bedroom if we needed to grab something from the kitchen, or to leave the apartment. 

While I never saw Jon, I would occasionally hear Jon. Already in bed and half asleep, I would occasionally hear Jon come home from work late at night, but I was too groggy and unprepared to go out and meet him. Immediately after hearing the exterior door open and close, I would hear Jon’s footsteps head directly to his bedroom door, and then the sounds of the door opening and then closing. I often times wondered if Jon heard the same thing when I would head off to work in the morning. 

Our interactions made up of only noises continued on, day after day. I didn’t mind it, until I started noticing a rather disturbing issue with how Jon was maintaining the common parts of our apartment – specifically, leftovers were kept way too long in the refrigerator. I ignored it at first, thinking that surely Jon would throw his leftovers away in due time, but that time never seemed to come. 

Determined to not be my roommate’s maid, I began expressing subtle hints of a need for action from my roommate. I took my roommate’s spoiled leftovers and placed them closer and closer to his bedroom – first on the kitchen counter, then on the living room floor, and finally right outside his bedroom door. I thought for sure the smell of rotting leftovers would clue Jon in on what must be done, but Jon never heeded the call for action.   

I was perplexed as to why Jon wasn’t getting the message. On weekends when I was sure that Jon was hibernating in his bedroom, I tried knocking on his door. No answer. I was tempted to open the bedroom door and confront my roommate directly, but that seemed to be over the line – I still did have to live with the guy, after all.

As the remains of meals half enjoyed piled up in the refrigerator, and the stench becoming unbearable, I decided it was time to up the ante.   I wrote a note to my roommate kindly – but forcefully – demanding that Jon clean up after himself. I went to Jon’s bedroom door and snuck the note underneath the door. Satisfied with myself, I walked back to my bedroom door, and retired for the night, optimistic that the problem would be resolved.

After coming home from work the next day, my hopes were crushed. The leftovers were still exactly where they had been the day before. However, to my shock, one thing had changed – for the first time since Jon had moved in, his bedroom door was… slightly ajar.

I was relatively sure that Jon was gone, as his car was missing from the apartment’s parking lot. I crept towards the open bedroom door, debating what to do – should I honor my roommate’s privacy and close the door, or should I take this once in a lifetime opportunity to see what wonders laid beyond the normally fortified bedroom door? 

The curiosity was too much for me, so I cautiously opened my roommate’s door wide enough to sneak in. The first thing I noticed were boxes all over my roommate’s bedroom, all unemptied, as if Jon had just moved in, even though we had been living together for weeks. In the corner was a sole twin mattress, with no sheets on it. The walls were undecorated, and clothes laid on the floor, assumedly undisturbed from where they had been taken off. 

As I crept around all the boxes and clothes on the ground, one item in particular caught my attention – a single framed picture reverently positioned next to the mattress. I picked up the framed picture, which was of two goofy, but similar looking teenage boys, with grins etched on their faces. In the bottom right corner was an engraving that read, ‘Home will never be the same without you’.

Tucked partially underneath the mattress I saw a stained pamphlet, with a photo of one of the same teenage boys at the top, and the words ‘Celebrating the life of Chris Jankowski, son of Jane and Tim, and brother to Jon Jankowski.’ At the bottom of the pamphlet was a date, which equated to almost two months ago. 

I put the pamphlet and the picture down, and left Jon’s bedroom, closing the door behind me. I picked up the leftover plate that I had left next to his bedroom door, as well as the other leftovers around the kitchen, and placed them in the trash. I then changed the garbage bag, taking the full garbage back to the apartment dumpster.

I never really did meet my roommate face to face, but I figured the least I could do for him was occasionally tidy up the common area of the apartment. And as I continued to throw away the leftovers my roommate left, I noticed that, more often than not, my roommate continued to leave his bedroom door slightly ajar.