Moriah imagines us living together for our sophomore year so is freaking out over the lease. Plenty of things makes no sense in this town, but one of the most bizarre attributes is how you need to sign leases close to a year in advance unless you’re one of the brave who are fine with leaving their housing to chance and whatever’s leftover. Being freshmen, neither of us found this out until towards the end of last semester. And since then, Moriah has been performing a comprehensive housing hunt. I don’t know how she’s managed to get any of her work done. She wanted to take me on a dozen tours, but I was so busy I had to put my foot down.
“Oh come on! This is important.”
No it’s not, I wanted to say. Instead I highlighted how busy I was. We compromised at seeing three different places. She picked them out. She tried pushing for one more. I gave her death glare and she retreated like a dog.
Out of the three, there were two that we both agreed upon. And so I let her decide. The only thing was, that I felt stalked by a feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. As I nodded my head agreeing that an apartment was good, I had this sense that I was doing something wrong.
I just figured it out the week before. And maybe that’s why I’m glad to have this weekend to myself to just work on my paper, workout at the fitness center, and take long walks listening to my iPod touch. When I get anxious about something, I like to be with myself and then it’s only a matter of time until I feel the ease again. Moriah is always so stressed because she can’t stand to be by herself. She’s always covering herself up with other people, always having to be doing something exciting. It reminds me of how she is always covering herself up with makeup.
It is Sunday. I only have one more day to myself until the week starts again and I’m in class talking to people. Probably also talking with Moriah at least once a day at dinner for an hour. She has already texted me about the lease today. But I won’t answer until it’s much darker. Right now, I am enjoying the bright, light day sitting at the cafe. I know my mom would disapprove of me buying coffee at a cafe when I had a free coffee at the cafeteria, but it just isn’t the same there.
Right now, It’s Norah Jones playing through the speakers. Before this it was Jack Johnson. It’s not dark yet, so I don’t do any of my work. I sit there alternating between people watching inside the cafe, people watching outside through the large windows, or staring at the sky through that same window. My black coffee is a medium roast. I don’t like it so dark that it tastes burnt. And I don’t like it so light that it’s sour. The barista poured it for me into a very wide and thick white mug. I haven’t drank fast enough, and now the bottom fifth is cold. When the cold coffee touches my lips, I think again about the wrong thing I’ve been doing.
I’ve been leading Moriah on. Just like she leads on the boys. Only the boys don’t have a lease on the line. I feel bad about this. I feel a little trapped. But I just don’t want to live with Moriah. Don’t want to live off campus next year at all.