As I lay in my bed I reach forward and grasp the bar; it is cold. My room is filled with objects: posters, flags, clothes, loneliness. The windows ajar to let the sounds of the world in. The beds are both neatly made, but at night only one is filled with the warmth of a body. Two dressers and two closets are filled with the clothing of a soul who's mourning of a friend never ceases.
“Romario you crazy bastard!”
“What do you want bumbaroli”
“Lock me out of the room one more time and I swear I'll knock your ass out”
“Shut up hoe-y, you won't do nothin. I’ll kill you! HeHee”
Getting locked out of my room was a recurring event.
As I reach out for my towel I dry off and meander across the bathroom; soap in hand. Slyly I slink to my room in just a towel. When I get to my door I reach for the handle and
“are you for real right now?”
The door is locked. Filled with rage and a dumbfoundedness for the stupidity of my roommate who saw me leave in a towel to go shower I give the door a solid punch. Nursing my bruised hand I swallow my pride and ventured down the stairs of sturtevant knowing full well the onslaught of questions I would receive for being nearly nude.
It was a Friday night and dinner was already underway. Boys and girls had been waiting for the weekly Maine mall trip. In my quest for a key to unlock my room I caught a teacher who had thankfully a set of keys to do so. When I think about how embarrassing it was to walk around shirtless just for a key, it makes me think about all the good times I had with my roommate. Now I know that getting locked out of a room in just a towel doesn't seem fun, but Romario and I had a special friendship. We played tricks on each other and laughed at people as well as each other. Our devious plans were never malicious and although we sometimes argued it was always settled through a game of WWE 2K 16.
As I lay in bed I pull the covers over my shoulders and drift away. When I wake up it's always the same. Silence. Never a need to creep across the room quietly. Never a thought about locking the door when I leave. No need to clean, apart from the occasional tour that passes through.
“Yeah, just me. Just Joey”