Broken-Hearted Girls Should Quit Talking About Exes If They Don’t Want New Roommates.
Tales Of Week 9 Of The Andie Chronicles And Her Breakup
Day 57: Tales Of New Roommates And Bad Dreams
I should have set my alarm for Monday morning.
I should have done a lot of things last night, but instead, I passed out and hoped I would wake up and the whole of last week would be one bad dream.
God forbid this would be some bad soap opera where that could actually happen.
I would kill for a good coma storyline right now.
Perhaps only then I wouldn’t have to deal with dishonest friends and meddling exes.
And as the light crept into my bedroom, I found myself not alone in my bed. I could feel a body in the doona, warm and familiar. It was a man, and for a moment I thought it was Douglas.
The ex.
For a second I thought this was a soap opera because that would make sense. But as I opened my eyes wider I quickly discovered this wasn’t him at all. It was James, cuddling with one of my pillows under his arms. I poked him, and he stirred.
I poked him again and again until he woke up.
“Hey, quit it,” he said, pushing the pillow into me. “What time is it?”
“Really? That’s what you have to ask me. How about telling me what you’re doing here.” He was lucky I figured out who he was before I got my pepper spray from the bedside table.
I bought a keychain of them from a girl on TikTok. Part of me was excited to use it.
“I decided this is where I’m staying from now. I’m not going anywhere.” James sat up, tugging at the doona and pulling it with him.
“Nope, not going anywhere.”
“Do you mean you’re never leaving bed?”
He shook his head.
“No, I’m never leaving your side. I’m moving in.”
This wasn’t the ideal response to the situation at hand. The last time we spoke, we didn’t. We refused to speak to each other. We refused to explain our actions.
And we never came to any sort of conclusion either one of us could feel good about.
“Is that a question or are you telling me you’re moving in?”
“Yeah, I’m telling you. It’s happening. You and me living here together.”
He said it as so matter of fact. Like I wasn’t getting a say. Like he didn’t even ask me. There was another thing; questions. I still had a million questions he wasn’t answering.
The idea of moving in was just one of them.
“I think I need a coffee. And a shower, before I comprehend what is happening here.”
Day 58: Tales Of Semi-Confessions And Full Friendship Suspicions
I thought this little prank being pulled on me would end last night when work finished.
But true to his word, James didn’t leave.
And, as I was making toast this morning, he told me I would need to help him pack the van he hired to move everything else of his into my house.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath, burning the toast.
I took my eyes off the prize for one moment and look what happened. I had charred toast and a new roommate.
“You can’t just move in here without telling me what’s going on James. It doesn’t work like that where you can push me around.”
I replaced the burned toast with two fresh pieces of bread.
“And don’t think for a second I can forget last week or that this radical change of pace simply fixes everything.”
James joined me in the kitchen.
“I thought about what happened between us. I didn’t feel like I could tell you about an event I wanted to go to. And you couldn’t tell me you weren’t dealing well with the whole Douglas situation. We’re not on the same page. And this is the only way to get us there.”
“How did you know I wasn’t dealing with Douglas?”
In our stand-off the other night, I refused to tell him why I had gone to the conference.
“Please, Andie. You implemented a self-imposed ban on leaving this house until you were over him. And then, as your first outing, you went to a conference Douglas was speaking at. How is that you doing ok?”
He was right.
Though I was there to try to find things out and get answers to questions I still had, his summary didn’t exactly sell the idea I was doing well with everything.
It made me sound bat shit crazy.
I hated there was some truth to it, too. The whole idea of Douglas lurking in my life was sending me crazy.
“I guess you’re right. But I can’t have anyone living here who is sleeping with my ex-boyfriend.”
James cocked his head.
“Eww, please. I-am-not sleeping him. And do you know how hard it is not to go to a conference when you know no one except the keynote speaker? As soon as he saw me, he insisted I roll with him. I couldn’t escape the guy.”
“If only you looked around the room you might have seen me.”
And if only you were telling me the truth, I thought.
There was something James wasn’t telling me. I could feel it. Stupid intuition.
Perhaps with James as my roommate, I might find out what it it.
The toast popped.
Burned again.
Crap.
Day 59: Tales Of Strongarmed Remolavists And Secret Best Friends
For some reason, James had convinced Sophia to take the day off work and help him sort through his furniture.
“What can I say,” she said, pulling blue dots of a row of stickers and putting them on each of James’ dining room chairs. “He asked and I said yes.”
“You’re a good friend, you know that?”
I couldn’t say the same. I was only there because I wanted to personally mitigate what pieces James wanted to bring into my already carefully designed home.
We needed a bed for his room, as I didn’t have a spare. But I wasn’t sure how we would fit anything else in.
Sophia kept placing dots everywhere.
“I don’t consider this selfless. I am taking most of this to my mum’s place.”
I had to laugh. Asking wasn’t all it took. Much like moving into my home, as it turns out.
“How are you feeling about the move?” Sophia asked me.
Fear rushed over me. I didn’t want to tell Sophia exactly what was going through my mind. I didn’t want to tell anyone for that matter.
If I kept publicly admitting I acted like a heartbroken crazy cat lady and stalked my ex, I might never recover from the embarrassment. And I could start believing it too.
In truth, I was trying to get rid of my ex from my life, by any means necessary. Yet, to do this, I was saddled with a roommate, one right now I wasn’t exactly trusting.
I couldn’t tell Sophia I had doubts about my best friend and our business partner.
Not yet.
Or was yet even the right word?
Would I ever tell anyone about how I was feeling?
That much I didn’t know.
Sophia was staring at me, waiting for my answer. “Well, I never thought at thirty-five I would be getting a roommate. It feels like I’m going backwards instead of forwards, you know?”
She nodded.
Everyone knew that.
Even if it wasn’t true. Even it was true.
Everyone was thinking I was regressing into my teenage self. The next thing I will have is a curfew and allowance from James. FML if that happens.
“As long as you know it’s not going backwards, it’s ok. And when we’re all basking in the success and living together because we can’t trust anyone else around us, we will laugh about this moment.”
As she said that, Sophia stuck a sticker on a piece of art that I quite liked.
“No, no, that’s coming with us. I have the perfect spot for.”
Sophia stared at me, whilst adding another sticker to the frame. “Good luck getting it off me!”
Day 60: Tales Of Moving Confessions And BFF Suspicions
When a friend asks you to help them unpack, say no. Say N-O.
Don’t worry about how you will make it look, because you won’t give a fuck when you’re sweating through clothes hauling boxes around.
And it won’t matter when the person you’re helping as they inflict constant direction for what they want, where they want it, and you’re resisting clocking them on the head with one of their shoes.
It doesn’t matter how much you love them, come up with an excuse to get you out of it.
You’ll thank me later.
When James said I could finish up, and that he could cover the rest of the unpacking, I almost accepted his request to stop.
But I couldn’t stand the mess piling in my home, the mess of bubble wrap and packaging materials filling the precious floor space of every room.
I needed my space back.
Putting the last of James’ shoes in closest, I found myself holding a pair of dress shoes. It was the ones he was wearing the other day at the conference.
I noticed them when he stood next to Douglas.
They weren’t nearly impressive as the Italian leather soles of my ex.
I held them in my hands.
“James,” I called out to, who was in the ensuite. “Why do you want to live here?”
He stuck his head out to where I was standing.
“You know the answer to that, babe. Because we need to get on the same page.” I had heard him say that before. Yet, the reason didn’t sit well with me.
“I know. I know. But you’re willing to give up your apartment for that? Give up your independence? It’s so unlike you.”
“Yeah, well, you and the business need me.”
I wasn’t so sure about me. I didn’t need him to hold my hand. I didn’t need him to wipe my ass in the evenings.
Was this something he was telling himself to justify this decision?
Or was this some cover to make up for whatever the hell was going on between him and Douglas?
I stared at James who was now at the entrance of the wardrobe. “James, if you’re going to live here, you have start to telling the absolute truth.”
I couldn’t believe the words were coming from my mouth. It felt so confrontational when that’s the opposite of how I wanted it to be.
With my arm outstretched I grabbed his hand, held it, and gave my best look of concern.
“Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I want to be here for you, and all this break-up stuff. And the business, that’s not a lie. But I’m not exactly leaving my building voluntarily.”
Ahh, I thought. There was more to this. I was right.
It was then I realised how wrong I wanted to be.
Day 61: Tales Of Family Values And Undeniable Unfairness
GG landed us a table at Entrecôte using Taylor’s name.
The private table in the dining room, with a view over the exquisite outdoor terrace. Despite it only being the four OG’s, we had this entire room to ourselves, big enough for twenty people around the feast-style table.
Two French waiters doted on us, bringing us each a bottle of champagne and a shared bottle of vodka for the middle of the table.
Sophia leaned into me as the waiters scuttled away. “Do you think they’re really French?” she asked, taking the largest gulp from the flute.
“Nah, it has to be a gimmick. It’s a little too obvious. A French restaurant in the middle of Melbourne with French waiters. Give it a bone.”
Sophia giggled, then continued to drink.
I swiftly joined her, almost immediately needing to refill my glass. If I couldn’t have a drink after the week I had, when could I?!
I looked across the table at James, my new roommate. He too was in desperate need of a drink. I was lucky to have never been through what he had endured lately.
It turns out James’ was renting his apartment from his aunty.
A sweet woman who lived in Perth. She married a man who frequented the mines. Once her husband passed away, James was convinced she would want her apartment back.
Yet, that was five years ago and it was only now she wanted it. He obliged; she had been renting it to him for next to nothing.
But when his Aunty told him to pack his things, a real estate agent visited and wanted to take photos for an online listing.
Confused, James contacted his aunty.
Using blunt, frank and ugly words, she told James she had only recently discovered his homosexual “lifestyle” and kicked him out.
I felt blindsided by the revelation. I had no idea James rented the apartment, or who he rented it off. And I certainly didn’t realise any members of James’ family were raging homophobes.
Alas, some people surprise you, especially when you’ve had other things on your mind.
As we held up our glasses and brought them together, I looked at James.
He looked confused.
Was he happy to be living with me? Time would tell.
Was it how he wanted to leave his apartment, the place he called home for so long? Of course not.
And was he still hiding something from me? I felt convinced of it.
But now wasn’t the time.
We needed to find a way to co-habitat and mend our broken hearts together.
This wouldn’t be easy considering how raw we both felt. Thrust together by chance and coincidence couldn’t possibly bode well, could it?
Day 62: Tales Of Ungrateful Roommates And Drag Contemplations
“Barbie wants to come over and see my new place. Is that ok?”
I loved how James called his mother that. She seemed like the kind of woman who objected to her children calling her anything but mother.
Yet, once you got to know her, you know her well-presented self was a facade. She was a free spirit, carefree, and inspiring to a woman like me.
“Ah, ok. When is she coming?”
“Tomorrow night. I’m out tonight, but she’s used to seeing me hungover. Can you make your lasagna?”
I nodded, unsure how James thought asking me a favour in the same breath as going out without inviting me would fly in this new arrangement.
I wanted to stay silent. He was having a rough time, of course. Yet, this wasn’t an arrangement I could survive in the long run, one where he could come and go and I played housewife to his needs.
“Um, sure. Only if I’m not hungover.”
“Are you going out tonight?”
I nodded. “Wherever you’re going, I’m going with you.”
It sounded like I didn’t trust James. I had to watch my tone. I couldn’t let him know I was a little suspicious this living arrangement had guilt sprinkled all over it.
“No, you’re not invited. It’s the boys and me.”
The boys, that was code for his gay-clubbing friends. Some of them did drag. James was contemplating partaking. Even if he didn’t end up becoming a queen, they could use these fact-finding nights as an excuse to go out and party.
James had been talking about it for a long time. But there was a lot going on, I didn’t blame James for hitting pause on the idea.
“I know this is one of your boys’ nights. But I love how you think you can move into my home, take over my space and then not invite me out with you. And then ask me to cook for your mother tomorrow night. Seems a little one-sided to me.”
It didn’t help that I didn’t have any Saturday night plans.
No boyfriend.
No man texting me.
No one to keep warm and forget about my new flatmate.
I wondered what Douglas would think of this new arrangement. Knowing him, he would have paid for James to stay in one of his apartment buildings. Free rent. Free reign to do what he wanted.
No nag like me to berate him.
Why did I care what Douglas would think? Why did I care about what Douglas would do?
James sighed. “I thought you wanted some time away from me.” I did, but James didn’t know that. “No, you didn’t,” I retorted.
“No, you’re right, I didn’t. I’m doing life as usual, but I guess life isn’t usual, is it?”
I knew what he meant more than I could say. Life had changed so much in the last two months. And I couldn’t see a point where it would ever return to normal.
Day 63: Tales Of Spilled Wine And Maternal Honesty
Only minutes earlier I had a slight catastrophe with a bottle of pinot noir, that I had saved in my newly delivered wine fridge for a special occasion. I blamed the cork.
Not many wineries still used corks, but this one did. I hadn’t opened a bottle like this since my late teens when I worked at the high-end cinemas, manning the bar.
I had it mastered then, but now I wasn’t so confident.
As the bottle slipped from my grasp and crashed to the floor, my confidence shattered with it.
Of course, Barbie, James’ mother, arrived just after it happened, when I hadn’t quite mopped up what looked like a crime scene. And James was still in the shower, not helping me prepare for her arrival.
This whole living together thing was going oh-so-well.
Fine, ok, I’ll drop the sarcasm.
“Sorry Barbie, come in. Mind the red wine.”
She looked my home up and down. I realised she had never been here before. We had always met at James’ apartment.
“My dear, what a wonderful home you have. Better than the hole of an apartment James was in. I always told him never to stay there. He insisted, though.”
She handed me a bouquet of purple iris’. “Oh thank you, aren’t they beautiful?”
“From my garden. They used to grow outside his block too, but some monster poisoned them.”
I set the flowers on the kitchen bench and clambered for the mop. As I attempted to remove the pooling liquid on the floor, I asked Barbie about James’ recent departure.
“What do you think of this whole getting kicked out situation?”
“It’s a tragedy. When families can’t accept each other for who they are, then what hope does the rest of the world have? It’s not that hard to love someone. It takes more energy to hate them.”
James entered the kitchen, looking fresh and unaffected by the mess.
“Barbie, you’re always full of wisdom. It’s a shame my aunty can’t be more like you.”
His mother laughed.
“Well, could you really handle having two of me? Because I’m about to spend the night berating the both of you about getting your shit sorted.”
Oh, fuck.
You’re reading a recap of The Andie Chronicles, the 2023 romance-fiction series from the 1 Lovelock Drive (1LD) universe.
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