I rubbed my eyes, propping myself up in my dorm room bed to see what on earth was going on. It was 2:30 a.m. and the lights in our tiny room were suddenly on. I looked over and saw Maggie* casually strolling in. She continued to make noise as she got ready for bed as though neither I nor our other roommate Tania were there.
“Um, can you turn the lights off?” I asked irritably.
“I will when I finish getting ready,” she responded nonchalantly.
Oh. Cool. Love that for us. It was my first night freshman year of college and my roommate was already proving to be a royal bitch. My college dreams had included losing my virginity and getting drunk off cheap beer. They did not include living with a sociopath.
“I’m sleeping and it’s the middle of the night. Turn them off!” Tania snapped. Tania was our other roommate and she clearly was not having it either. Maggie huffed as she marched back to the door and shut the lights off. This was going to be a long fucking year, I thought irritably to myself.
Tania and I had only met Maggie mere hours ago. I couldn’t imagine what crawled up her ass and died to make her dislike us so much. That is until one day a couple of weeks later when I happened to overhear her conversation as I walked towards our door. The dumbass left the door ajar and was speaking loud AF allowing me to hear everything she was saying. Turns out it was just regular old racism. “I actually have to work for everything and these brats just come here think they can just come in here and get whatever they want. The Black one is probably only here because of affirmative action. And the other one just has mommy and daddy give her everything.”
I fumed. That stupid cunt. Sure, my parents were paying for school, but what’s it to her? My parents were also hard-working immigrants who grounded me if I didn’t get straight A’s. I wasn’t even allowed to talk to boys as a teenager. I hardly lived the life of a Kardashian. And even if I did, who cares? As for Tania, that is one major (fucked up) assumption to make. I didn’t know Tania well, but she planned to be an engineer which was more than I could say for myself or Maggie. My major plan for the first semester was to hookup with Jason* who lived down the hall and swallowed a raw goldfish while pledging his frat. We all had our callings.
Realizing I had to live with this whack bitch for a whole year, I didn’t bother confronting her with my new-found knowledge. God only knew what she would do to my stuff when I wasn’t there. So, I kept my mouth shut and shared very little with her. But I did tell Tania, who eventually transferred to another campus leaving me alone with Fuckface.
Fuckface (my new name for her) started leaving notes on the fridge accusing me of random things like using her alarm clock, spilling jam, moving her rug, and last of all stealing her money. Stealing. Her. Money. After she berated me for being a princess, it seemed idiotic of her to suggest I stole from her. I decided to write her a note back:
Dearest Fuckface,
I haven’t spilled my jam, (it’s not even open), used your stupid alarm clock, and I definitely haven’t stolen your money. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t need to steal, as my parents give me all the money I want.
xoxo
your loving roommate
Was this mature? No. Was it satisfying? Extremely.
She already hated me and vice versa so I didn’t see any point in not being a complete bitch. The claws were out. I wasn’t about to let this simpleton come for me.
She never responded to my note, and we continued to ignore each other. Then a few days later the RA knocked on my door.
“Rachel, we need to talk,” Rebecca said.
“Um, OK. About what?”
“Come with me.” She led me to her room and shut the door. “We found alcohol in your room.”
“What?” It’s true I had a bottle of Apple-flavored Boones in my fridge. I had recently discovered the pleasures of flavored wine and at the ripe age of 17, I found it to be highly delicious as it tasted like freedom. As a result of said discovery, I didn’t have to rely on shitty frat party beer to get wasted. But how did Rebecca find out? Would I get kicked out of the dorm for underage drinking? What on earth would I tell my Indian parents? If I was going down, so was everyone else because I am certainly not the only one drinking in this dorm. I could give two fucks if snitches got stitches or whatever that phrase was. I wished I was in France or anywhere in Europe, where I’m sure no one would care about such trivialities.
“Maggie was upset that you spilled some jam in her fridge — “
“I did not spill any jam in her fridge. That’s so ridiculous.” Why is Fuckface obsessed with jam?
“OK, well she was under the impression that you did, so she asked me to come and look, and when she opened the fridge, the wine was there. I asked her whose it was, and she said it was yours.”
“She framed me! Don’t you see that?”
“As your punishment, you’ll have to perform ten hours of community service at the hospital.”
“WHAT! DO YOU NOT SEE THAT I WAS FRAMED?”
“It’s either that or get kicked out of the dorm.”
I was about to lose my mind.
This was war. I didn’t know how I would get back at that stark raving lunatic, but I would.
Thankfully the volunteer department at the hospital was so lackadaisical I could get away with not doing anything. I would sign in, the coordinator would tell me what to do, like sweep a floor or something, which I wouldn’t do. Instead, I would go back home for a few hours, come back, and have her sign my slip saying I finished. Ha! Fuck Fuckface, Rebecca, and the U.S. government for being so damn uptight about drinking!
It was payback time.
After I finally “finished” my community service, I laid out my plot. Fuckface had a fondness for going to the library and studying into the wee hours of the morning. She usually came back around 1 or 2 a.m. Wouldn’t it be fun if I locked her out with the door chain?
I locked the chain and went to sleep, giddy with power. Around 1:30 a.m., the keys jiggled in the lock. Fuckface opened the door partway, only to find it still locked by the chain.
“Huh? What’s going on? Let me in.”
I laid there pretending to be asleep.
“I know you can hear me, let me in.”
“Go fuck yourself, you dumb bitch.” I meant to pretend I was asleep longer, but I couldn’t hold it in. Patience was never my virtue.
“LET ME IN!” Fuckface was now screaming at the top of her lungs. I guess she didn’t like my response.
“Why don’t you get the RA Fuckface?” I yelled back. For the record, this time I actually used the term “Fuckface”.
“I’m going to KILL you!”
“Oh really? What are you going to do? Sit on me with your fat ass?”
“You, stupid bitch!”
“Oh, and by the way, my parents can afford a really expensive lawyer, and you’ll be stuck with a public defender if you assault me.” I had to hit her where it hurt. In reality, I highly doubted my parents would pay for a lawyer for any of this nonsense. Knowing them, they would just want to sweep it under the rug and pretend none of this ever happened. But she didn’t know that.
“LET ME IN!”
“NO!”
Finally, I heard another voice “Rachel, let her in.”
It was Rebecca. Well, I guess I had to allow her to enter.
“Fine.” I got up and unlocked the door. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were trying to get in.”
“ARGHHH! You are such a spoiled little bitch.”
“You’re a pathetic, pimple-faced, jealous, loser. And by the way, I didn’t even do my community service!”
Rebecca finally interrupted. “I think you guys should live apart.”
“Fine. I can’t wait to have a roommate that isn’t a complete bitch. Good night.”
Epilogue:
A few days later, I got a new roommate named Kim. We loved clubbing in NYC, high heels, MAC lipstick, punk rock, and Led Zeppelin. Most importantly, she did not care about jam. Last I checked Fuckface is someone’s assistant, Tania is indeed an engineer, and I became a model agent and then started my own business.
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