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I know it’s been awhile – I’ve been working on book edits and interviewing tirelessly for my corporate gig – I can’t tell you how exhausted I am.
A few weeks ago, I submitted the below piece to a literary publication; whether they will consider publishing it, I have no idea. If they do, I’ll make an announcement on where you can find the full excerpt.
Either way, I would like to share a portion of it with you. To give context, this is a short snippet from my memoir entitled, ‘West Seventh.’
In this chapter, I am confronted with the task of “roommate shopping,” stumbling on a motley crew of women in need of a fifth housemate.
My previous living arrangement was set to expire: the family I was staying with, needed their open room back; they were anticipating the return of their overseas daughter, prompting my departure.
The house on West Seventh called “Big Blue,” inherently became the sixth roommate and was the location I lived in at the time of my brain bleed.
I hope you enjoy the read!
*Obviously, names have been changed.
Standing at the corner of West Seventh and Stewart Avenue in St. Paul, I immediately noticed the distinctive personality of my new neighborhood. Modern duplexes were placed next to refurbished Victorian style properties, angling post-World War II, single-family residences. The energy of the community felt erratic, but this would become my last roommate interview before leaving the Sallis’ middle-class, suburban basement; their daughter was set to return from studying abroad and they need their rented room back.
Abnormalities continued to snag the corner of my eye along the walk toward the address listed in my phone: a very pronounced mental health campus. Rusted train tracks through the center of the block. Graffitied traffic signs. Lawns that altered between manicured and untreated. My lips pursed and pushed out a low throttle groan.
The strikingly blue two-story home from the ad, fit right into the noise. Conforming without conforming, she was no ordinary blue, rather, an intense, complex blue. An overwhelming, almost annoying blue. Flattened images on Craigslist underestimated her depth -- the color itself came as no surprise, but in 3D appeared luminous. I was reminded of the children’s series, “Bear in the Big Blue House,” a taste of late ‘90s nostalgia that aired on Nickelodeon. The TV show featured a giant foamed-stuffed bear who watched over an ensemble of magical characters. Bright colors give me a headache. I fucking hate it and hoped I wouldn’t be greeted by a Muppet.
Instead, an Amazonian-built blonde woman met me at the screen door.
“Hey! Octavia? I’m Kristin,” she announced, sticking out her hand to shake.
“Yeah, hey!”
Thrust from a DC Universe, Kristin’s transition into 2012 world unfolded seamlessly: a warm spirit and an honest face. She wore a fitted sports tee, rolled Levi’s and classic white chucks with her hair pulled back - all characteristic of the Midwest’s “super-casual-kind-of-affable” look.
“Come on in!”
I took her lead and passed through the enclosed patio deck, stepping into the living room. The outdated interior design suggested the furniture came second, third, maybe fourth hand. This is not uncommon for young homeowners who have a revolving door of tenants. You take what you can get.
An older woman sitting quietly on a steel blue sectional, introduced herself as Ira. Though she was clearly old enough to be any one of our mothers, her petite frame and youthful dress added to the off-center events of the day. Streaks of pearl played peek-a-boo, weaving in and out of her mid-back length, caramel-colored mane. She had personal style of the early 2000’s – low rise jeans, a chunky double-pronged faux leather belt and a polo – that seemed unusual for a woman of her age.
Adjacent to Ira, sat Dawn – the early thirties live-in landlord. I was familiar with this brand of mousy, underdeveloped woman before: the throwback 1998 JNCO jeans and dark-rimmed, cheaply framed glasses. At the top of her head, light-brown roots began to sprout, exposing the demarcation between her birth color and a hostile counterculture. Dawn’s asymmetrical bob was layered in a chaotic, unfashionable way. I later found out about her peculiar obsession with vintage Barbie’s, Japanese knick knacks and Nintendo video games. Shocking.
According to Kristin, the home had been recently renovated, furniture notwithstanding. Dawn and her brother David purchased the fixer-upper after receiving an insurance payout from the death of their absent father. A remodel to the upstairs formed a three-bedroom, kitchen and bath rental used to help pay off the remaining mortgage and supply a steady stream of supplemental income. David, the younger of the two, decided to pursue his MBA in Maryland, still lending a hand when necessary to his sister.
It was clear that Kristin would be the mouthpiece of this roommate interview; I barely heard a peep from the others.