My Rommate Mary

My roommate Mary is a theater major. She dresses in these colorful clothes, clothes no else would dare to wear day to day.

My roommate Mary likes to read but is messy, with her paperbacks all over our living room and her bedroom. Her favorite book(s) is Harry Potter, and she has dozens of merchandise to prove it. Harry Potter blankets, Harry Potter shirts, Harry Potter socks, Harry Potter tea sets, and even Harry Potter chopsticks that she uses to eat her spicy tuna.

My roommate Mary is childish. It is obvious she hasn’t grown up yet, even though she just turned 19. She ‘forgets’ to do chores, has to be reminded to clean up after herself, and can barely maintain a hygienic routine. She laughs loudly, too loudly to be polite, and she has no sense of social rules or how one should talk and act in front of other people. She is always listening to music which makes her an astronaut, transporting her to the stars.

My roommate Mary talks to her family late at night when she thinks I am asleep. She speaks in her family language with them, with words that sound like clicks of a tongue. The conversations last for a while, and sometimes her family speaks loud enough for me to hear them through the thin walls of our apartment. When the conversation ends, and Mary hangs up the phone, there is a brief moment of silence. And then Mary starts to cry. It is not loud like her laugh or expressive like her curses. But her crying is soft and raw, like her tears have been let out to breathe. After a while she stops, and I know she has fallen asleep. And that’s when I feel bad for my roommate Mary.