The Perfect Roommate by Minka Kent Read Online (FREE)
But those all stopped the last few days. She went cold turkey on me. On our friendship.
My message consists of the word “lunch” and a question mark. I follow up with a sushi emoji.
I will shove raw fish down my throat until I puke if it means getting some answers.
Three gray dots bounce on the screen before disappearing. She read my message, began to respond, then deleted it. She must be thinking about how to get out of this, how to say no. Or maybe she’s texting Lauren, asking if she wants to come.
God forbid Tessa does anything without Lauren.
I’m about to place my phone down when it vibrates in my hand.
Her message consists of the word “time” and a question mark.
We settle on one o’clock.
I order the spicy tuna roll and a “saketini.”
Tessa doesn’t comment about me not liking raw fish and I don’t comment on the fact that she ordered tempura chicken. I bet she only orders real sushi when Lauren’s around. And I bet when you boil Tessa down to the bones, she’s a small-town girl just like me, who saw a bit of the girl she wanted to be in Lauren Wiedenfeld and somewhere along the line lost herself trying to become her.
We probably have more in common than Tessa realizes, but I’m not here to discuss that.
“Where’s Lauren?” Tessa asks. Like she doesn’t already know.
“She’s staying at Thayer’s all weekend.” I sip my martini. It’s disgusting. I smile. “This is so good. Want to try?”
Tessa sips from the clean side of my glass. “Amazing. I should get one next time.”
“You should.” I glance at her water glass. If Lauren were here, she’d be drinking.
For a Saturday, this place is dead, and our food arrives in record time. The tinkle of chopsticks on plates fills the booth we share, and I chase every bite of my tuna roll with a gulp of my martini. I’m going to be lit by the time this is over.
“Tessa,” I eventually say. She looks up, chewing, her rosebud lips neat and tight and her round eyes trained on me. “I wanted to ask you something …”
This feels like an episode of Real Housewives of Meyer State University, where two of the women are about to have a confrontation about an incident that happened earlier. All we need is a camera crew and a producer with a headset and clipboard.
“What’s up?” she asks, playing dumb. Girls do that. We play dumb. Especially when we sense impending conflict.
“Did I … did I do something this past week? Something that upset you?” I ask, forehead wrinkled and voice soft so as not to put her on the defense. I need this to go smoothly. I need her to feel comfortable opening up to me or she’ll never tell me anything about Lauren.
“What are you talking about?” She seems legitimately confused. And I almost buy it.