Free My Summer Roommate by Bridie Hall Page A

never quite satisfied with the creations.
    “Hm?” He raises his eyebrows, grinning.
    “I get it, what you’re saying. I think.”
    “I know you do.” He says it so surely that I want to ask how he knows. But his gaze is dangerously charming, and I decide he’s up to something and I better leave it at that. When he sees my hesitation, he grins. He enjoys seeing me squirm, I can tell, and that fires up my fighting spirit, so I have difficulty holding back.
    Izzy, oblivious to the exchange we just had, sits back and presses play. The movie starts, and we go quiet. Izzy’s curled up in the corner of the couch, and the pizza is going cold in her hands. Chris, however, is finishing his third slice, and he seems to be watching the screen only cursorily. I can’t focus on the story, either.
    When Rick says, ‘Tell me, who was it you left me for? Was it Laszlo, or were there others in between or … aren’t you the kind that tells?’ Isabelle says, “That’s harsh.”
    For a second everything’s quiet and I think the moment has passed. The n Chris says, “Harsh, but right.”
    “But he didn’t have to say it like that,” Izzy says.
    Chris is sitting on my left, Izzy on my right, and Chris leans forward to look at her when he says, “I don’t understand you, women. What difference does it make if you tell the truth wrapped up in niceties or if you put it the way it is? It’s the truth.”
    “It makes a big difference how you present it,” I say, because I know Izzy’s right.
    “Why?”
    “Because …” I’m trying to think of how to explain it in short. “Think about the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ situation. Most people, when breaking up with someone, will say it’s their fault and not their partner’s. You don’t want to break up with them and then add insult to injury and accuse them of it being their fault. In most cases, both partners are to blame, of course, but you do the nice thing and assume the blame.”
    “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” Chris says, and now his focus is on me. I can feel Izzy’s eyes watching us intently. “The breakup sucks either way.”
    “It sucks more if you feel like shit for ruining everything.”
    He makes a face like he’s thinking about it. “Maybe there’s a grain of truth in there somewhere. But I still think saying it straight is the best policy.”
    His gaze is becoming too intense. I shrug and turn back to the screen. “Let’s agree to disagree, then.”
    I t ake a sip of beer just to give the impression of calmness. But I’m far from it. Just knowing that he’s still watching me makes me all antsy.
    “Let’s,” he finally says. “But if I like you, I’m just gonna say I like you. I won’t beat around the bush about it.”
    The sip of beer almost goes down the wrong pipe.
    I know he’s making it sound ambiguous on purpose, because out of the corner of my eye, I can see the hint of a grin on his face.
    Izzy chuckles beside me. “Am I in the way here? I could always go home.”
    “Stay where you are,” I say, and it sounds terse and strained. I think both of them notice it. Shit.
    I try to divert the attention back to the initial issue, and I say, “If subjective interpretation weren’t important, there’d be no need for Isabelle’s art. We’d just have photos. And even those contain a certain level of interpretation in them.”
    Izzy raises her eyebrows at Chris. “She got you there.”
    “I surrender.”
    But even that simple verb hold s double meaning. And I want to tell him about interpretations and insinuations and all that, but with Izzy there, I’d just dig myself a deeper hole.
    After the movie, Izzy and I stay on the couch chatting, discussing the movie, making a list of movies still to watch. Chris is there, but doesn’t actively participate in our discussions. Still, I feel his presence as he moves around the room.
    It’s past midnight when Izzy leaves and even then only when she realizes that the couch is where