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Authors: Kristen Lynn
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own. I want to start taking accountability for my own actions. I need to do this to help me get better.” What the hell am I saying? “But I am extremely tired tonight and just want to get to my room, okay?”
“Alright dear, should we pray together?” She tries to grab my hand.
I fake cough and cover my mouth to avoid any more of this intimacy.
“Already did…right after I barfed. Prayed it all better and the Lord is happy that I’m done with the puking and I can now go back to my room and settle in. So thanks, but already talked to God and I’m pretty sure he forgave me for doing the technicolor yawn in there, so I’m gonna go now. Thanks Rita. Thanks a bunch. You are really good at this.”
Rita looks like I just grabbed her ass and she has no clue how to handle it. So I walk out the door and leave her there puzzled, figuring she may as well use the toilet while she’s in there. She’s probably got some hacking to do herself.
Room 109
I know I have to go to my old room and I hope that Bath Salts Mary is already asleep or out chewing curd somewhere because I don’t want to have a one-sided conversation about why I am leaving. I’m just going to get it over with. I walk in quietly and there she is. Oh God. Those eyes turn my way. “Hey Bath-I mean Mary, I don’t know if they told you yet, but I’ve been moved down the hall. Sure will miss having you as a roommate. I just need to get my things.”
Mary looks different for some reason. She has make-up on. Huh…who would have thought? She’s no Miss America but she cleans up at least decently. I’d say she’s at least about a two or a three. And I’ll be darned, but she’s got on lavender satin pajamas. Who the hell is she dressing up for? I keep grabbing things and throwing them into my duffle bag. I swipe my stuff from the bathroom, grab my boys’ drawings, and am ready to head out.
“Well, good luck to you Mary,” I say sweetly and smile. “I know we didn’t become the greatest of friends and I am sure we both have issues that—.”
“Not to be rude,” she interrupts, “but I’m expecting someone and if you could just stop talking and leave then I would like that.” Her blood shot eyes are piercing through my skin.
I stand frozen. Did she just talk, like in human words? Wait a minute. Did she just kick me out? Has she got a boyfriend coming in here? Oh…does she have a girlfriend coming in here? Well, I guess I should leave before she gets feisty. But that bitch has a lot of nerve and apparently needs to get her freak on. Gross. I just look away and walk out the door.
I head to room 109. Why does it have to be an odd number? It is eight thirty and I am tired and ready for my sleeping pill in my little white cup. I must say, however, that this room is ten times better. There is a queen size bed with a fluffy white comforter and two fluffy pillows. There is a private bathroom and a closet with low drawers, no hooks, probably so we can’t hang ourselves. There is even a little table with two fabric-covered arm chairs with floral patterns. They are a pretty sage green, cream, and pale yellow. It’s kind of bed and breakfast-ish, but I like it.
I get my jammies on, pink flannel pants and a wife-beater. It’s not quite as sexy as Bath Salts Mary’s seductive satin number, but the thought of what lies under that lavender fabric gives me a strep throat taste in my mouth. I start to feel a little better about my lame jammies. I don’t unpack, as I am still planning to call Eric in the morning to come get me. I do hang up the pictures my boys drew for me, because they make me happy. I then, lie in this deliciously comfortable bed and let out a sigh of relief. That is, until my door knocks and in walks Katelyn, perfect looking Katelyn.
“Hey there, just checking on your room. I have your therapy schedule for tomorrow and I brought your p.m. meds. How are you
“Alright dear, should we pray together?” She tries to grab my hand.
I fake cough and cover my mouth to avoid any more of this intimacy.
“Already did…right after I barfed. Prayed it all better and the Lord is happy that I’m done with the puking and I can now go back to my room and settle in. So thanks, but already talked to God and I’m pretty sure he forgave me for doing the technicolor yawn in there, so I’m gonna go now. Thanks Rita. Thanks a bunch. You are really good at this.”
Rita looks like I just grabbed her ass and she has no clue how to handle it. So I walk out the door and leave her there puzzled, figuring she may as well use the toilet while she’s in there. She’s probably got some hacking to do herself.
Room 109
I know I have to go to my old room and I hope that Bath Salts Mary is already asleep or out chewing curd somewhere because I don’t want to have a one-sided conversation about why I am leaving. I’m just going to get it over with. I walk in quietly and there she is. Oh God. Those eyes turn my way. “Hey Bath-I mean Mary, I don’t know if they told you yet, but I’ve been moved down the hall. Sure will miss having you as a roommate. I just need to get my things.”
Mary looks different for some reason. She has make-up on. Huh…who would have thought? She’s no Miss America but she cleans up at least decently. I’d say she’s at least about a two or a three. And I’ll be darned, but she’s got on lavender satin pajamas. Who the hell is she dressing up for? I keep grabbing things and throwing them into my duffle bag. I swipe my stuff from the bathroom, grab my boys’ drawings, and am ready to head out.
“Well, good luck to you Mary,” I say sweetly and smile. “I know we didn’t become the greatest of friends and I am sure we both have issues that—.”
“Not to be rude,” she interrupts, “but I’m expecting someone and if you could just stop talking and leave then I would like that.” Her blood shot eyes are piercing through my skin.
I stand frozen. Did she just talk, like in human words? Wait a minute. Did she just kick me out? Has she got a boyfriend coming in here? Oh…does she have a girlfriend coming in here? Well, I guess I should leave before she gets feisty. But that bitch has a lot of nerve and apparently needs to get her freak on. Gross. I just look away and walk out the door.
I head to room 109. Why does it have to be an odd number? It is eight thirty and I am tired and ready for my sleeping pill in my little white cup. I must say, however, that this room is ten times better. There is a queen size bed with a fluffy white comforter and two fluffy pillows. There is a private bathroom and a closet with low drawers, no hooks, probably so we can’t hang ourselves. There is even a little table with two fabric-covered arm chairs with floral patterns. They are a pretty sage green, cream, and pale yellow. It’s kind of bed and breakfast-ish, but I like it.
I get my jammies on, pink flannel pants and a wife-beater. It’s not quite as sexy as Bath Salts Mary’s seductive satin number, but the thought of what lies under that lavender fabric gives me a strep throat taste in my mouth. I start to feel a little better about my lame jammies. I don’t unpack, as I am still planning to call Eric in the morning to come get me. I do hang up the pictures my boys drew for me, because they make me happy. I then, lie in this deliciously comfortable bed and let out a sigh of relief. That is, until my door knocks and in walks Katelyn, perfect looking Katelyn.
“Hey there, just checking on your room. I have your therapy schedule for tomorrow and I brought your p.m. meds. How are you
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