Hurtful Words

I was woken again four hours later but this time by my alarm rather than a drunken roommate. It was still dark outside and my room was so called I couldn’t help but shiver. I walked through to the kitchen, turning on the radiator as I did so. I had made a cup of tea and a piece of toast when I heard someone clamber through to the bathroom. I wasn’t sure who it was until I heard the awful sound of vomiting and knew it was Ronnie. I rolled my eyes as I heard the toilet flush and a deep, throaty groan. I thought he would return to his room and I guess I was surprised when he sauntered into the lounge instead, flopping face down on the couch. “I fucking hate myself,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” I replied, taking another bite out of my toast and continuing with the book I was reading. He lifted his head, narrowing his eyes at me before a smirk crossed his face.
“Is that my shirt?” he asked. His eyes were bleary and the black he wore around his eyes had smudged down onto his cheeks. I looked down at the old shirt I was wearing.
“S-sorry,” I said, my cheeks flushing, “I thought it was Max’s.”
Ronnie shook his head and quickly rolled onto his back. “Doesn’t matter, though,” he replied, “it looks better on you, anyway.” I bit my lip softly and went back to reading my book. I heard small growl and looked over at Ronnie. He was still watching me.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his head hanging off the end of the sofa so he could see me better.
“I’m reading,” I replied, finishing my tea. “And now I’m going to have a shower,” I told him, putting my cup in the sink, “and then I’m going to work.” Just as I was walking past the sofa, toward the bathroom, Ronnie reached out and grabbed my wrist. I looked down at him and then at his hand.
“Okay,” he said, letting me go and rolling over.

I had a quick shower, getting myself ready for work and grabbed my bag. I poked my head into Max’s room, saying a quick goodbye and rushed through the lounge to the front door. I noticed Ronnie was still lying face down on the sofa, his hair sticking up at odd angles. I smoothed it down with the palm of my hand as I walked past. I was a little obsessive about things like that. He looked up in annoyance but his expression soon turned to a smug smile. I rolled my eyes. “Bye Ronnie,” I said as I rushed out the door.
“Bye Lindsey,” he replied in a whiny, mocking tone.

Work was absolutely hectic. I had taken to going in earlier now that I’d moved so I was able to keep from working too late at night. When I had finally finished the filing, I locked up and walked the nine blocks to the apartment. I managed to drag myself up the stairs, my feet were aching, and I knocked on the door. I noticed it was much quieter than I had been the previous nights I had returned to the apartment, there was no buzzing of the television or the thudding of music. For a second, I wondered if anyone would be home to let me in. I knocked on the door a few times before it swung open.
“Would you just fucking stop that?” Ronnie groaned, holding his head. I suppose he had been feeling unwell for most of the day with his hangover.
“Christ, Ronnie,” I said as I pushed past him into the apartment, dropping my bag on the table in the kitchen, “you look like shit.”
“Yeah, thanks for that, Lindsey,” he muttered sarcastically, turning the light off in the lounge room and sprawling out over the floor. I wondered why, if he had such a problem with me, he insisted on being in the same room as me whenever possible. I shook my head and made a cup of tea. I set it beside Ronnie on the floor along with two aspirin I had found in the cupboard. He gave me a dissatisfied growl, but I ignored it. “What time’s Max getting home?” I asked, looking around the kitchen for a pot. Ronnie grunted before answering with a muffled, “How the fuck should I know?” Finally finding a deep saucepan, I filled it with boiling water and put it on the stovetop.
“Do you eat pasta?” I asked him; searching the cupboards for the packet I had bought the night before.
“Oh, fuck off, Lindsey,” was all he answered with before he got up off the floor and sauntered off in the direction of his room. I was going to respond but decided against it. And when I went to retrieve the cup of cold tea and aspirin from the floor, I noticed the white pills had disappeared and the mug was empty.

Max arrived home half an hour after the Ronnie episode, just as I was finishing up with the pasta I was making. “She can cook, she can clean,” Max exclaimed as he entered the apartment, “what more could I ask for!” He grabbed the back of my shirt as I hurried past him to turn the stove off. “What, I don’t even get a hello?” he pouted.
“Max, don’t. I’m tired and I jus-,” I muttered, trying to pull my shirt from his grasp.
“Come on, Lindsey,” he whined, hooking his arms around my waist as I tried to escape.
“Max!” I shouted, “Would you fucking stop it?” He looked shocked, almost pained, for a second but a goofy grin spread across his face.
“Okay, okay,” he replied, holding his hands up in surrender, “but I come bearing gifts.” I turned around, narrowing my eyes at him, my arms folded across my chest. Max reached into his pocket before holding out a bright, silver key; the key to my apartment. Our apartment. Max and I. And Ronnie. I groaned at the thought of him.
“What?” Max asked, wiping his hair out of his face, still holding the key.
“Nothing,” I replied, shaking my head taking the key from him. “Thanks for this, by the way,” I said, motioning to him with the key and slipping it into my bag.
“Anytime,” he sighed, sitting at the table.
“Where do you go, anyway?” I asked, out of curiosity more than anything, turning around and looking at him, one hand on my hip, the other motioning to him with the spoon I was using.
“What?” he said, laughing slightly as he looked up at me, though his face was tired.
“You,” I replied, “where do you go all the time?”
“Well, I have a job,” he scoffed, though I could tell he was joking.
“Really?” I said. It wasn’t really a question and I didn’t expect an answer. “So, where are you the rest of the time?” I asked, stirring the sauce on the stove.
“What’s with all the questions?”
“I don’t know, I’m just curious,” I replied nonchalantly.
“Well,” he said, getting up from the table and searching through the refrigerator, “I might have a girlfriend.”
“Oh, really?” I asked. I couldn’t get rid of my smile.
“Don’t get too excited,” he joked, “it’s nothing serious.” I shrugged, though my smile grew wider. “Lindsey,” he whined, letting his head fall back, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
“I didn’t say anything,” I replied, trying my best to sound as innocent as possible. He rolled his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t be last he heard about the subject. But I decided to let it go. For now.
“Do you want some pasta?” I asked, serving him a plate before he had a chance to answer and setting it on the table before serving another and walking off in the direction of the corridor.
“Hey,” Max called after me, “hey, where are you going?” I didn’t answer him, knocking softly on Ronnie’s bedroom door. I heard a grunt from inside and opened the door.
“Can you get out, please?” Ronnie asked, though his tone suggested he didn’t have the slightest intention of being polite. I sat the plate of pasta on his bare stomach. He was lying on his bed wearing only a pair of those black jeans I always saw him in. He scowled at me but I did my best to ignore it. I had decided that if we were to live together, I wasn’t going to let him get to me. “As awful as you feel right now,” I said calmly, “I can guarantee you’ll feel ten times worse tomorrow if you don’t eat something." And with that, I left his room.