One
Andrew Stewart MacDougall~ Friday, May 28, 10:03PM
“I’ve got my road built. Your move, Andrew.”
Michael MacLean, the Doctors Cameron, and I are sitting in my kitchen, playing Settlers of Catan. It’s been one of those long, dull, overbooked weeks, to the point where we can’t be bothered to go out, and would rather sit around in our pajamas, drinking beer and playing board games, in our own adult version of a slumber party.
The Doctors Cameron are actually Dr. Neil Cameron and Dr. Jenny Farquarson-Cameron, emergency room surgeons; however, they are inseparable to the point that my friends and I usually call them the Doctors. Several of our other friends group me with the Doctors and call us the “White Coat Crew”. I like it. It makes me feel professional, even when I’m wearing pajamas decorated with cartoon turtles.
Drinking works better in the apartment when Faris is out. While my old university friend may be an excellent roommate and friend in almost every way, but insists on keeping the kitchen reasonably halal, which means no booze. But since he’s out having a night out with his girlfriend, I was able to make the all-important beer run. He usually doesn't mind if the bottles are in the recycling bin by the time he’s back.
“You’re screwed, unless you get Largest Army,” says Michael. He’s my first year roommate from uni, and one of my more questionable friends, even with his high-paying computer job and the resultant nice trappings. Under all that, he’s still typical southeast Glasgow. “You’re going to lose hard!” He gulps down the last of his beer. Chuckles.
I don’t really spend too much time with Michael, but he’s good for the occasional laugh.
“I’ve got a plan,” I say. This is entirely untrue. I never have a plan for anything. I just sort of have vague, far-off goals I stumble towards persistently. It’s seemed to work well enough so far.
The door bursts open. It’s Faris and Areebah.
“Gave me a fright, there,” I say, laughing. “What’s the—“
“Great news!” Faris never talks over people. This has to be good. “We’re getting married!”
Areebah grins and holds out her hand. There is a small gold band on her finger.
“Congratulations!”
“That’s great!”
“That’s amazing! You’re such a good couple! So, how did he propose?” Jenny, for all her gritty childhood and her pragmatism in the emergency room, melts like warm ice cream when confronted with cute animals or sappy romantic gestures.
“Well, we went out to dinner for our anniversary, and then this beautiful plate of chocolate strawberries shows up out of nowhere, and there’s the ring.”
“That’s lovely!” Jenny grabs Neil’s hand. “Remember when you proposed.”
I do. I was there when it happened, and it involved a beer and some Christmas crackers.
“That’s…” I saw this coming, but it’s impossible not to be caught up in how excited they are. Especially since they’re such great friends. “That’s really wonderful. So are you two…” I wave a hand vaguely around at the apartment. It seems a bit rude, but I can’t have our landlady throwing us all out for living with someone who’s not on the lease.
“Actually, I’m moving out next weekend.”
“You’re what?” That was not really the solution I’d expected. No so soon.
“My brother and I already found a place. I didn't say anything, because I wanted to surprise her, but I’ve had this planned since I got the tenure-track job—“
“That’s great,” I say. I can actually hear the enthusiasm fade out of my voice. I should be happy. These people are my friends. But now I need a new roommate, and it’s going to be damn hard to replace Faris.
11:35PM
I’ve managed to sneak into my room. Faris, Areebah and the Doctors Cameron are bouncing off the walls with excitement. I can hear someone clattering around in the kitchen. It’s probably Jenny making cookies, which is her standard response to any emotional event. That’s going to be one hell of a cleanup. Michael is making snarky comments about marriage and commitment, which I’m not sure if he means.
But I have a bigger problem on my hands now. And by that, I mean my rent check. I need another roommate as soon as possible. I turn my laptop on, and go onto Craigslist. It’s not something I usually do, but I need to cast a wide net, and there’s no way I’m paying for a paper ad in the Post.
11:39PM
Veterinarian seeks renter to share flat near Uni. Must like animals. Men or women OK. Drinkers, smokers OK. Any religion OK.
Not particularly specific, but then again, I can’t be too fussy. If I interview, I should be able to spot the ones who are too insane to live with.
Now I can go help Faris and Areebah celebrate.
11:40
Jesus Christ. It looks like the flour had a fight with the sugar all over the counter. I’m not sure which one lost.
“They’re in the oven,” Jenny says. “It’ll only be a few minutes.” She’s filling the kettle.
“Oh,” I say. “All right.” I take a step forward. Something crunches under my foot. It’s slimy.
How the hell does someone who picks apart other peoples’ insides for a living not notice when an entire egg falls on the floor?
Probably the same way I didn’t notice that my best friend was planning to move out on me.