A New Roommate

 I have completely forsaken the stories in order thing that I was going to do. That should be fine as long as readers read the background first.  So this is present day.  Georgia's roommate, David, the gay ex-Mormon midwife has moved out.  Her sister and mother have gone back to Virginia.  Georgia can't afford to not have a roommate so she gets a new one, a woman named Etheline.  I'd wanted a name close to Maybelline but a little bit different.  Etheline, of course, has her own quirks.

 “When I turned 50,” thinks Georgia, “I thought I was old.”

“Huh,” she says, looking in the mirror.  She squints her eyes.  “Better,” she says.

She closes her eyes.  “Best.”

She pops them open again and regards the mirror.

“Not bad for 64. “  She has recently stopped dyeing her hair a spellbinding red, per the box.  “Our spellbinding red will not only cover your gray but will give you a certain razzle dazzle.”  It was the same type of dye she’d used in the 70’s, available only in Virginia.  She’d had her cousin ship it up to her for years.

“No more,” Georgia announced via e-mail to George earlier this year.  “I am letting nature take its natural course.  And, well, it is a good way to save a little money.  I appreciate your sending it up all of these years.”

“Good for you,” George replied, “I’ve recently started doing the same with the hair on my balls.  It feels so freeing, does it not?”

Georgia thinks now.  Indeed, freeing.  To her surprise she liked her little nest of grey hair.  She is convinced it is what gets her a seat on the bus nine times out of ten.  She used to be insulted when people stood up as soon as she got on.  Now, she relished the front seats. 

“I have earned this,” she thought. 

She leaves the bathroom and heads back into the living room.  Ever since David moved out and took the futon – Georgia hadn’t wanted it after David’s boyfriend’s niece’s girlfriend had had her baby on it – Georgia has made due with a papasan she’d bought some months ago from the nearby Sally Ann.  The day had been warm when she rolled it home.  Other than a giant ink stain in the centre of the cushion, it was in good shape.  Sure, it was hard to get out of sometimes but other than that, it fit her body quite nicely.

Her body.  Ever since her irritable bowel syndrome had re-kicked in after several dormant years, she’d managed to lose a good 10 pounds.  Nothing like a few strong bouts of diarrhea to keep things flowing and reduce fat, she thought.  She knew this wasn’t the healthiest way of going about things but for the first time in a good number of years she was able to fit into her size 10 pants from 20 years ago.

“See,” she says to herself now, “It pays to keep a backlog of clothes.”

Indeed.  The jeans were a bit snug but as long as she avoided bloating items like popcorn, pop tarts, and pop she did just fine.

Her new roommate, Etheline, was also a bit of a health nut.  She was a bit generous too – many was a time she shared her salad, blood pudding, and raw herring.  At first Georgia blanched but over time she came to enjoy these bizarre foods, even craving them more than a Costco hotdog and root beer with ice.

After her family moved back home and David went to an ex-Mormon ashram in Kelowna, Georgia desperately needed someone to help pay the rent.  Her most recent gig at a downtown ESL school had abruptly ended after she received two months’ worth of 3’s out of 5’s on her student evaluations.

“We expect no less than 4.722,” said the director of studies.  “Three is akin to 20 per cent in our eyes.”

“Three out of five is 20 per cent?” asked Georgia.

“Yes, in our eyes.”

“In your eyes?”

“Yes, as I said.”

Georgia packed up her notebooks the very day of that conversation and after taking a picture dictionary and four different levels of Longman grammar books was on her way.

David left.  EI came.  And eventually Etheline, with her blood pudding and job as an assistant to the assistant of the director of the local chapter of Yoga and Alcohol Don’t Mix –YADM an organization Georgia hadn’t previously heard of, came.  She had been the first person to respond to Georgia’s Craigslist ad.  After a gruelling series of interviews that included a young woman who was blind in one eye with both a snake tattoo and an actual snake, Georgia had chosen Etheline.  She was 52, vigorously committed to left wing politics, a non-drinker (something Georgia felt was pretty much implied by her work at YADM), a non-mother, and quiet after 10 pm.  This had been the factor that cinched it for Georgia.

“I’m an early to bed, early to rise person,” Etheline said. 

Georgia had confirmed this fact with Etheline’s former roommate in North Vancouver.

Etheline loved the North Shore, she said, but the commute to YADM on Commercial Drive was getting to her after all of these years.

“If I live here I can walk to work and be home in time to cook our dinner sometimes.”

“Oh?”  said Georgia.

“I can make 18 different kinds of salad.”

“Oh, You aren’t anti-meat are you?  I like meat.  Mainly I guess hotdogs but sometimes I splurge and buy a pork chop which I fry up.  Generally non smelly meats but yes, anyway, with the yoga and everything – “

“No, no. I’m okay with meat.    Blood pudding, for example.”

“Is that made with blood?  I always thought it was blood.”

Etheline had explained no, it wasn’t and Georgia realized she was going to be just fine with the situation.  A quiet roommate with no meat hang ups.  She wasn’t going to be delivering babies on the futon in the middle of the night or playing the fiddle.