Hurtful Words

“Lindsey!” my mother called out to me as she entered the kitchen, setting two plastic bags on the counter, “Lindsey, I’m home!” I wiped my eyes once more before I entered the room, trying to conceal the fact I had been crying.
“Hi Mom,” I mumbled, going to sit by the counter, “how was your day?”
“It was fine,” she answered, suspicion evident in her tone, “Lindsey, are you alright? You look like you’ve been crying.” I shook my head quickly.
“I’m fine,” I said, searching through the bags, “it’s just the dust or something. It’s getting to me.” My mother nodded although her expression told me she didn’t believe me.
“I got Chinese,” she said, “I hope it’s okay.” I looked up at her, biting down on my lip gently as she unpacked the take out containers and lined them up along the counter top. I nodded at her.
“It’s perfect.”

So, my mother and I spent the night sitting on the floor of our kitchen, eating Chinese take out, laughing hysterically as we recalled different memories the house I had spent almost my whole life in held. It was close to nine o’clock at night when we finally managed to pack all of my boxes in the back of my mother’s car and she drove me the forty minutes or so to Max’s apartment. We didn’t speak the entire time and I leant my head against the cool glass of the car window, watching the streetlights as they whirred by. When we finally arrived at the apartment complex, my mother unloaded the boxes and I hugged her tightly, insisting I would be able to take them upstairs myself. I could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to argue with me, but she didn’t. “I love you, okay?” she said as she got back into her car, “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, Mom,” I sighed, closing her door for her.
“And, Lindsey?” she called after me, causing me to turn back around, “Remember, you can always come back home.” I gave her a lopsided smile before stepping away from the car.
“Thanks, Mom.”

I lugged the four or five boxes up to apartment seventeen, just as Max had told me to. I noticed that the apartment building was fairly quiet but as I neared the top of the stairs, the low hum of a television that had the volume too loud could be heard. I rolled my eyes, finally getting all of the boxes to the apartment door, and knocked. When Max didn’t answer, I knocked again, though twice as hard. “Max, if you don’t open this fucking door,” I muttered as I pounded against it. I almost fell through the doorway as it opened. I stumbled for a second before standing upright. I was about to send some remark about him having the television too loud his way when I looked up to notice it wasn’t Max that hadn’t opened the door but, instead, someone quite a bit taller with messy dark hair and a tattoo creeping up his neck. “Oh,” was all I managed to say as this guy looked down at me, his arms crossed over his chest as he leant against the doorframe. “I’m sorry, this must be the wrong apartment. I’m looking for Max Gre-,” I barely had time to finish when the complete stranger in front of me sent a loud grunt in my direction and moved out of the doorway. He didn’t slam the door in my face and I took the opportunity to quickly check the address Max had given me. This was definitely his apartment. I noticed the guy who had opened the door was sprawled across the couch again and had turned the volume up on the television once more. I shook my head at him before dragging my boxes inside. “Uh, do you know where the spare room is?” I asked, straining to be heard over the television. He didn’t even look up at me, simply lifted an arm and pointed in the direction of a small corridor that led away from the adjoining kitchen and lounge. “Right,” I mumbled, putting my hands on my hips before wandering in the direction he had pointed. I opened the door on the left and found it to be Max’s room, noticing the old band shirt that he had been wearing the day before hanging over a lamp that had been left on and the same photograph as Dane had beside his bed tacked to the wall beside Max’s. I closed the door and turned to the other, opening it. The room was much lighter than Max’s had been with hard wood floors and sea green walls. It was tiny with the ceiling slanting down as it reached the far wall and there was a large window facing down onto the street below. A bed was pushed up against the wall to my left below the window, just as Max had promised, and on the opposite wall was a small walk-in wardrobe. A large smile spread across my face as I set my bag down just inside the door and sat on the edge of the bed.
I spent an hour or so dragging the boxes to my room and unpacking various things, making my bed and hanging my mirror. When I walked through to the lounge again, I noticed Max’s friend had fallen asleep, or passed out. He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself or offer me help as I lifted and moved my various belongings into the back room. I snuck around where he was sprawled across the couch and turned the volume on the television down. I frowned to myself, picking up several cans and bits of trash up off the floor and coffee table, even the couch he was lying on, and took them into the kitchen, throwing them in the bin. I tied my hair back off my face and filled the sink with warm, soapy water, deciding to make a start on the stacks of dirty dishes lined up along the counter while I waited for Max to get home. It was almost midnight when I had finished tidying the kitchen and I heard the front door being unlocked. “Lindsey?” I heard Max ask as he dropped his keys on the small round table behind me, “What are you doing here?”
“Take a guess,” I joked, draining the water from the sink and drying my hands.
“Shit, Linds, I’m sorry,” he said, “I completely forgot.” I rolled my eyes; it was so like him to forget something like that.
“Don’t worry about it,” I replied, letting my hair down, “I don’t think your roommate likes me much, though.”
“What?” Max asked, taking a break from searching through the refrigerator to look up at me. I nodded in the direction of the couch where his friend laid face down, snoring loudly.
“I meant to tell you, Linds,” he said, “it’s only a temporary thing, really.”
“How temporary?” I asked cautiously, not really getting the best first impression from this guy.
“I don’t know,” Max replied, pausing to think it over before turning back to the refrigerator, “a month or so.” I pulled a face, crossing my arms tightly over my chest as I leant back against the counter.
“Come on, Lindsey,” Max sighed, “he’s not that bad.” I scoffed at his answer. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?” he asked, glancing at the clock quickly. I nodded.
“Yeah, I think I might go to bed,” I replied. Max gave me a quick hug and a small kiss on the cheek before mumbling what sounded like a goodnight. I was almost half way to my room when I turned back. “Hey, Max?” I called over to him in a strained whisper, hoping I wouldn’t wake his roommate. Max whirled around quickly, blinking at me a couple of times. “What is it?” he asked.
“Thanks for letting me stay,” I said. He nodded over at me, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Anytime, Kiddo,” he replied, “anytime.”

I woke up the next morning at a quarter past six. I looked around the room, my room, feeling a little disoriented at first before the events of the night before came flooding back to me. I lay in the warmth of my bed for a moment longer before searching through the boxes scattered around my room, looking for something clean to wear to work. I shuffled past open boxes and piled clothing to reach my bedroom door, opening it quietly and walking through the apartment to another three doors. I was sure one of them was a storage cupboard while one of the remaining two was the bathroom. I opened one of the remaining doors to find another bedroom, much smaller than and as messy as, or perhaps messier, than Max’s. I presumed it was where his friend, and my ‘temporary’ roommate, was staying. I quickly closed the door again before opening another. Inside was a small bathroom with barely enough room to stand. I showered and dressed, drying my hair before returning to my room to apply my makeup. The apartment was freezing and as soon as I was finished getting ready I went in search of the radiator. I turned it on, rubbing my arms to try and warm them. I noticed the clock. It was only seven; I didn’t start work for another hour or so. I decided to search through Max’s cupboards for something to eat for breakfast. Upon finding nothing but a box of cereal, I made the informed decision that I would go grocery shopping after I had finished work. But, in the meantime, cereal would do. I opened various drawers, looking for a spoon. When I finally found one, I closed the cutlery drawer a little too quickly, causing a loud slamming sound followed by the crashing of the knives and forks inside to echo throughout the apartment. I heard a loud groan followed by the dark mess of Max’s friend’s hair poke up from behind the sofa. He squinted at me, his eyes not quite used to the light. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled, rubbing furiously at his eyes. I winced at the sound of his voice, realizing I had been the one to wake him. “Sorry,” I muttered. He peered over the back of the sofa at me.
“Who are you?” he asked, looking me up and down. I tucked my hair behind my ears self-consciously.
“Uh, Lindsey,” I stammered, “I’m a friend of Max’s.” He looked me up and down once more before giving a small grunt and sprawling out over the couch again. I thought I might have really annoyed him but moments later, while I was eating the cereal I had found, I heard him snoring softly. I finished my cereal and left for work.