Saturday, October 09, 2010

I looked about the room, it, it had been decorated. My memory exaggerates it but it was an amalgam of southern country, old English and Victorian. (Go here for part 1.) And then there was the shrine(s). I knew my roommate was fundamentalist, but… The Jesus statute creeped me out, the eyes seemed to follow me as I walked across the room. Pivoting in the center to take it all in, I muttered this can’t stay this way. I looked at Karen standing in the doorway and asked her to come in and shut the door. “I’m not sure I should,” she replied, “I’m Jewish and might be struck by lightening of something.” I began cracking up and knew that I’d like Karen.

We dug through the boxes till I found the bedding and she helped me make the bed and then left. On my way to bed after washing up Marsha came in and we exchanged pleasantries and spoke a little of our days. She stopped for a minute and then brought up the decorating. “…it’s a little much isn’t it? …my mother fancies herself a decorator. “…let’s redo it and make it our space.” I agreed and bid her goodnight.

My phone woke me in the morning; it was Dad, wondering what time I wanted him to pick me up. We agreed on a time and he hung up, after which I called Mom. I’d called her three times the previous day, under the pretext that I was letting her know I was fine, but really I was checking on her, to make sure she was doing OK. She sounded good and we talked about my room and what my roommate was like etc. and I felt better knowing she was doing OK.

The rest of the day was sort of a blur and that evening I came back to the room and Marsha was there with a friend, they were discussing the friend’s roommate, with whom the girl was uncomfortable. A few days later I’d return from class to find Marsha and two other girls comforting the friend who had returned to find her roommate, Katey, in flagrante delicto with another girl (much later, I’d learn that the other girl was Rachel). Knowing that I wanted no part of this discussion, though curious about the women, I beat if for the library.

This crying-comforting scene went of a couple of more evenings until Marsha and her friend approached me about a possible room/roommate switch. TBC.

Kim

2 Comments:

Anonymous VJ said...

Ugg, I'm hoping it got a bit better Kim.

Besides a decent Frosh roommate, I had a 'housemate' one year who owned his own condo. He was likely certifiable & a seriously creepy lonely older bachelor who was probably actually trolling the local Uni for naive cuties/'Co-ed's' who might mistake his reasonable digs as a great deal and move in sight unseen. Still, even back in the day, this was somewhat unlikely except with desperate foreign transfer students. I think I recall he got into some trouble soon afterward for something like that. But for me? It meant nearly constant study & a determined focus on same. I made the best grades of my undergrad career, before I moved out into a kindly widow woman's duplex near the lake. I remained friends with her for decades afterward too. But nothing much exciting save for some Frosh mayhem. Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'

8:30 AM  
Anonymous Robert Taylor said...

Karen's remark reminds me of my wedding in 1970. The matron of honour, my wife's best friend was Jewish and at the wedding rehearsal, she was quite nervous about stepping inside Christ Church (Anglican Church of Canada) as she had never, in her life been inside a Christian church. She mentioned that she was afraid of lightning.

5:19 PM  

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