Marie's survey of the kitchen was slow and methodical. As she scrutinized the room, she took a deep breath and a much needed break. She had washed all the dishes, mopped the floor, scrubbed the sink, waxed the dinner table, and organized the food in the pantry and fridge and freezer. And yet, the nagging feeling that she had missed something remained. Maybe she hadn't been thorough enough with the sink, she fussed. Maybe it needed the toothbrush treatment, she thought to herself, not without a little sarcasm, as she sighed and collapsed into a chair. She knew too well what was going on: stress had transformed into nervous energy, and here she was, obsessively and needlessly cleaning house.
Marie's business wasn't doing as well as it once had. Antiques had never been particularly lucrative, but she had always managed, even been comfortable. She did most of her business online, but it had always been her dream to open a store, and that dream, for a time, had seemed feasible. Then things had taken a turn for the worse in recent months. She knew that it wouldn't be long before she might not even be able to make rent. She could figure out how to live frugally otherwise, but there was no way that she could work around her bills.
Although she rented the house, it had become her home, like an exoskeleton. She still had a lease to honor. More importantly, to move would be heartbreaking -- to leave behind the soft green carpet, the worn patterned wallpaper, its sounds as it settled at night, the way the light shone through its high, ornate windows. Moving just wasn't an option.
Marie had lived alone for the past year and a half in this modest-two bedroom home in the country, with neighbors occupying houses just as beautiful on one side and a gorgeous lake on the other side. Not only was the house itself lovely, but the little lake was her private lake, part of the property. The landscape was peppered with trees and backgrounded by a mountain range. Marie had been especially fortunate to live so close to the city, which was only a ten-minute drive down a long, lazy road. She had luck and a generous landlord to thank for it. Now she would have to find a roommate to help her keep it.
Marie was desperate. She would have preferred living with a friend, but as a woman nearing 30, most of her friends were already married or shacked up with significant others. And if they weren't, they had their own leases to worry about. So she had done the unthinkable. She had posted an ad online.
The ad asked for the usual: someone who was conscientious, quiet, and tidy. She had even thrown in "hygienic" for good measure. And she had expressed a preference for a female roommate. But the slew of bizarre responses had immediately made her rethink things. One woman wanted to know whether Marie was "pet friendly," as she owned five cats. Another had wondered whether Marie was sober, too, as she was a recovering alcoholic and coke addict. A third responder was 20 years old and wrote on behalf of herself and her 47-year-old boyfriend, who didn't actually ask but presumed it would be fine if the two of them moved in with her. Marie was overwhelmed and wondered whether someone was playing a trick on her.
So Marie gave her full attention to a brief and unassuming message sent to her by a man named Colin. Marie had learned that the shorter the message, the less peculiar the sender. He claimed to be quiet, respectful, a self-described "introvert," and easy to get along with. At that point, it was all she really wanted. So they set up a meeting and mini-tour of the house for the next day.
Marie tried to imagine what it might be like to live platonically with a man. Aside from her father, the only men she had lived with were boyfriends. Would there be sexual tension? If there were, would it be too much for them? Would they find it too difficult to do anything but go at each other anytime they were home? Would their sexual relationship disintegrate after just a month and then find them living out some kind of Fatal Attraction-scenario made even worse by living in such close quarters? Or maybe her attraction would be one-sided, making it unbearable for Marie to live with him. Or maybe it would be his lust that would be unrequited, and he would attack her. And even if no attraction was involved, there were still the usual roommate concerns to fuss about, like whether or not they'd even get along.
The truth was that Marie didn't like change. She was neurotic, and she knew it. It was just that it had been too long since she'd shared a space with someone, let alone a stranger. She recognized that her fears were unfounded, irrational even -- plenty of her friends had lived with members of the opposite sex, and none of them that she could remember had spiraled out of control. And besides all that, she was pretty good at maintaining control.
As Marie waited for Colin in the coffee shop the next day, she reminded herself of all these things: that she was being absurd, that situations like these were run-of-the-mill, and that she was just loathe to give up living alone. These thoughts reassured her, and she was glad that she'd showed up early, just a little before 2, to settle in and settle down. She'd felt it best to meet him here first so she could size Colin up before she brought him home with her.
And then Colin entered, a big, built man, shaved bald with a mustache and stubble. Marie's initial reaction was that sexual tension would not likely be an issue, and she sighed with relief. In terms of her usual type, Colin was a major departure. All her boyfriends and hook-ups had been thin, almost petite, with full heads of hair. The majority of them had been clean-shaven. "Boyish" was the word that came to mind. There was nothing boyish about the man who strode up to her. Marie rose to greet him.
"Colin?" she asked.
"Yes. Marie?" She nodded. She realized that he stood at least a foot taller than she did. For the first time, she thought that maybe a male roommate wasn't a bad idea after all, and that a man this size could serve as a pretty good security guard.
Colin, however, regarded Marie with awe. She hadn't disclosed much about herself via their e-mails and he hadn't had the time to snoop around on the Internet, so he had imagined a much older, less attractive woman. But Marie was young, a little thing with thick, long, strawberry blonde hair that almost overpowered her. Her eyes were hazel and her skin fair and glowing. He shook her outstretched hand, careful not to crush her delicate fingers. Just as careful not to stare, he took a seat across from her. The cup of coffee in front of her was almost as big as her head.
"How's it going?" she asked easily.
"Oh, just fine. And you?"
"Going well. Do you want to get yourself some coffee?"
"Oh, no. I don't really do caffeine."
"All right." Marie raised an eyebrow. "It's your life." Colin laughed at this and relaxed a little bit. "So what do you do?" she asked. "I mean, what allows you to be out on a weekday afternoon like this?"
"I'm an architect. I used to do some of my work from home, but right now I'm actually taking some time off. What's your thing?" He rubbed his knees, hoping she wouldn't notice his fidgeting.
"My thing is running a business. Online antique shop." She steepled her fingers. "Architect, huh? What have you designed?"
"My last project included a skyscraper downtown. I guess the corporation saw that there was a little empty space in the city and decided to fill it."
"I'm not hearing a lot of pride. Is that why you're taking a break?"
"Something like that. Rethinking my priorities, I guess."
"Got it." Marie paused and took a giant gulp of coffee. She set the empty cup back on the table. She guessed there was no way of being completely sure yet, but to her, he didn't seem like a maniac. "You ready to take a look at this place or what?"
Marie led the way out of the coffee shop, but Colin reached over her to open the door for her. He brushed her side and the brief touch left him momentarily stunned.
"Do you want to follow me?" she asked, turning to him on the sidewalk outside.
"Pardon?"
"You know, your car follows my car to my house. Or if you have GPS, I could just give you the address."
"I'll just follow," he responded sheepishly.
