Frankly Told: Maybe Not Now
T/W
She incessantly knocked on the door of the bedroom, calling out his name every few knocks.
“Why won’t you open your bloody door?” she gave in.
Out of the room opposite her, emerged the roommate. Visibly irritated by her noise, he scratched his head of locks as he stretched out. Clearly, Saturday morning was not on the schedule in that apartment.
“What’s with all this noise in the morning?” he asked, barely stepping from the threshold of his room.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “He just hasn’t been responding to me and I am worried that something might have happened to him. I hope you don’t mind, I took the spare key from where you guys keep it so I could come in and check up on him. I’ve just found his room locked and you know how he sleeps heavily.”
The roommate smacked his lips and muttered something under his breath before turning back into his room. Concern stirred inside her like a pot with the almost lackadaisical way he was acting. Before she could go back to attacking his door, he emerged from his room, brandishing a key in the air.
Silence overcame the apartment as he walked over, inserted the key and twisted it. Shock slightly rattled him as he expected resistance from a key already in the keyhole on the other side that never came. Still, he stepped back and shrugged his shoulders when a wind smacked his face as she booked it past him and through the door into the room. He smirked at the adorable nature of her reaction and began walking to his room.
He had only settled back in his room when a wave of discomfort washed over him. In the apartment, there was the kind of silence that made it hard to breathe. He got up once more, battling his hangover with resolve and walked out to check on her. She found her standing by the desk, shock scribbled on her face in the darkest of shades and tears rolling down her face in torrents. Her mouth contorted as if it was ready for a scream that never came. In her hands, were a couple of leaves of paper, shaking like they balanced in the wind.
“Wha-What’s going on?” he tried to ease into it, which startled her.
“What’s that?” he pointed, hardly moving from the door that stood ajar.
“He… He… He…” was all that left her lips.
She looked at him and her eyes said everything he needed to hear. In quick strides he was in front of her, snatching the papers from her hands. His eyes schemed across the lines and lines of ink, written in his roommate’s unmistakable handwriting. Her knees gave way and she fell back into the seat. He stumbled all over the page, his eyes trying to catch the words in a panic. He missed some words and read some but had to go over and over them again.
“What the-” he started and cut it short. “What does this mean?”
He flipped the pages over this way and that. He muttered as he reread the lines in a hurried voice.
“You were an amazing friend, brother, and roommate and I wish I could find a way to say it without you wanting to take the blame,” he read. “There are things that we can work through and there are some that we can’t. I just hope you will be able to empty this room and donate and sell what you can. I have, in the envelope, enough to keep my half of rent paid for the next six months.”
“By the time you read this,” he whispered sharply. “I don’t know if I will be here. I can’t say how it will happen but it’s tonight. I hope you won’t miss me too much.”
“Let her know bro,” he continued. “I don’t have the guts to. You were always better at these things than me. Love you guys both…”
He looked at her. Whatever colour she had had long left her skin and sobs beat her body down into uncontrollable shivers. He couldn’t find the words but his legs broke into a run and he was in his room, instinctively looking for his wallet, his keys and some clothes. He tripped as he tried to throw his trousers on. Throwing a hoodie on his bare torso he was out again, his slapping slides sounding through the apartment.
“What are you still sitting here for?” he shot at her through the door. “Can you come?”
Seeing as the shock had rendered her paralysed he walked in, took her by the arm and paraded her out of the room.
“There are phone calls that need to be made,” his voice shook violently. “I need you to help me do this.”
Every inch of him was in pain. He strode on about to leave the house into whatever would meet him outside. In his mind, memories fluttered about blinding him. He could feel every year that had passed in his bones. Regret for every fight washed over him in waves. He fumbled around trying to get her to balance as if he himself was balanced enough to walk out.
“Can you try walking?” He complained.
When he got to the door, his strength had nearly left him and he pulled the door open with everything that was left, nearly dropping her. His strength left him like a spirit. Behind the door, there his roommate stood in the light of the afternoon.
“What the hell?” he expired and collapsed to his knees.
She was quicker than he was and nearly tackled the roommate in a tight embrace. Tears, now accompanied by screaming.
“I’m here,” he repeated over and over in her ear and she incoherently yelled into his.
“We thought we lost you,” he stuttered.
He balanced her in one arm, the other carrying groceries. He looked at his roommate whose face held relief mixed with some indescribable emotions. He had his hand on his chest, breathing heavily. In his eyes, there was disbelief like he was seeing a ghost.
“Maybe not now.”
