Take a Lemon

Lee Ann Taylor! My crush for the last several weeks, was Marsha’s roommate? Was this some kind of a cruel joke? I could just see myself pining for her, watching her select a new boyfriend in front of me. Even if it would be undone in the timeline when they changed me back, in the meantime it was just going to be torture. When I had accepted that I was giving up on her for this fall’s House Parties, I hadn’t expected to have it rubbed in like this.

But I’m an actor, right? I’m skilled at managing my emotions – that’s what I always tell myself. That has to include pretending that I’m really the girl Lee Ann knows as a friend and roommate, instead of the guy who’d been flirting with her. Fortunately, her back was to me as she opened the door and preceded me into “our” dorm room. It gave me a chance to get my face under control.

I set down my suitcase and closed the door behind us as Lee Ann turned around. “How was your break, Marsh?” She was as gorgeous as I remembered, and her voice was like music; no changes there, thank goodness. Even if she was now off-limits to me, I would have hated to see such perfection spoiled. That’s speaking strictly as a connoisseur, of course. My own vested interests seemed to be massively on hold.

“Um…” I stammered. Apparently, I had not gotten myself quite as under control as I had thought. “It was… refreshing.” I’d had to think about that. “Interesting” would have prompted questions I didn’t want to have to answer or parry. “Relaxing” was an outright lie. “I feel as though I’m ready for a brand new start.”

“Great!” she said, smiling. “Did Phil ever call?”

Phil? Who in heck was Phil?

“Um, no,”

She sighed. “I warned you, Marsh. With a boy like Phil, you’re going to have to take the initiative. He wants to ask you out, that’s obvious, but he won’t allow himself to believe that a girl as pretty as you would ever say yes. We’ll have to come up with a scheme to make him do it.”

“Actually,” I gasped, “I’m… going to be a bit busy just now. I think I could have done better on my midterms… and this play is going to take a lot of my time. This really isn’t a good time for me to be dating.”

“You are not going to back out on this again,” she snapped. “Don’t you remember how miserable you were last May when you didn’t have a date for House Parties? How I had to argue with you about asking your ex-boyfriend from home? Do you really want to go through that again?”

“This… this just really isn’t a good time for me, Lee Ann. I mean, I appreciate your help, but I think… it’s just not…”

Lee Ann sighed again. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Marsh. Phil’s a perfectly nice boy, and you’ve known each other since the beginning of the year. But I’m not going to force you. If you’re afraid, you can just let some other girl snap him up. Your loss.”

“I’m sorry, Lee Ann,” I told her, actually feeling a bit guilty. The real Marsha would probably have been eager to date this guy, but getting into character only went so far. “Um, so, how was your break?”

“Stephen is so exasperating. You know what he did? I swear, this time I really was thinking of breaking it off with him. But Saturday morning, bright and early, he rang my bell. The sweetheart had driven overnight all the way from St. Louis to see me. He was exhausted, of course, so I kissed him and sent him off to bed, but we got to spend a day and a half together before he had to drive back to school.”

“That’s… great, Lee Ann. I mean, really, that’s great!” I said, trying to force enthusiasm into my voice. Inwardly, I was both totally crushed and at the same time, relieved. Thanks a lot, Chandra. Apparently, the rumors of her relationship’s demise were premature. Looking at the bright side, it did mean that I didn’t have to worry about watching some other guy win her heart. I had too many dark sides to look at already to want to think about this one too much.

“Mm Hmm. That’s what I’m telling you, Marsh. There are a lot of nice guys out there. I think Phil is one of them, but you’re going to have to figure that out for yourself, apparently.” She shrugged. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in with you when you got back. I should probably finish the reading for tomorrow’s classes. If I don’t see you later, good night.” And she went into what was obviously her bedroom and closed the door.

I finally had a chance to look around. I was standing in the living room, with four doors leading off it, in addition to the main door. One of them was obviously a bathroom, which meant that this was a three-girl suite. I knew which door was Lee Ann’s, but I didn’t know which was Marsha’s or, for that matter, who our third roommate was. For a moment, I dithered. I could knock at one of the other doors, but what if it was Marsha’s door and one of the other girls saw me? I didn’t want them wondering why I didn’t know which door was ‘mine.’ I could just open a door, but again, I didn’t want to do that if ‘my’ other roommate was there. So I temporized. I sat down on the couch and picked up The Decameron, which I was reading for EuroLit. I figured that I could just sit there for maybe an hour. If nobody came in or I didn’t figure things out, I would take a chance on one of the doors.

As it happened, I had to wait just over half an hour before the main door opened in, and our other roommate entered, wheeling a duffel and carrying a garment bag. She was a tall girl with a calm disposition that seemed at odds with her fiery red hair. Of course, when I say, ‘tall’, that doesn’t mean much, since just about everybody looked tall to me, these days. She didn’t see me at first, dropping her duffel and turning to close the door, until I stood and greeted her.

“Welcome back,” I said. “How was your break?”

“Oh, hey, Marsh,” she answered. “You’re just the person I wanted to see. Let me put my stuff in my room, and then I have something to show you.”

She pushed open the door next to Lee Ann’s and dragged her duffel inside. I congratulated myself on my stratagem; I had just learned that Marsha’s room was the one on the other side of the bathroom, without her roommates learning that I hadn’t known. My as-yet-nameless roommate returned quickly and opened the garment bag, taking out a formal gown.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding it up in front of herself.

“Um, the color looks good on you,” I managed, trying to recall how my mother had answered similar questions when Tina had asked her. “And the cut looks good for your figure.”

“Thanks,” she said, “but please look more carefully. I want your professional opinion. I… got this on the bargain rack.”

Professional opinion? What was that supposed to mean? I got a very queasy sensation in my stomach as one possibility suggested itself to me. But I stood and came closer, taking the top of the gown in my hand.

I rubbed it between my fingers, trying to invent something that would sound good. “The material seems good quality, and the lining should be comfortable and warm – that’ll be important for the fall.” I tugged at a seam. “The stitching is strong and tight. I’d say you got a good buy.”

I had no idea if what I’d said made any sense at all, but she seemed pleased. “I was really worried,” she admitted, “but I really couldn’t afford anything more expensive. When would you be able to take it in for me?”

“I’m… not really sure, yet.” I forced myself to say, my suspicions bolstered. “There’s plenty of time – I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Marsh,” she smiled.

“I- I really need to start preparing for classes,” I said, hurriedly, wanting to know the worst as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“OK. G’night, Marsh.”

“Good night.”

And I picked up my book and dragged my suitcase to the last door. Pushing it open, I saw what was largely a typical dorm room, not all that different from the one I’d had a week ago as Marshall: the standard bed, wardrobe, and desk, arranged to give a reasonable impression of space. But there were a couple of major differences. Next to the desk was Mom’s old sewing machine, and beside the wardrobe was a garment rack, with about a dozen articles of clothing with customer’s names pinned to them, waiting for Marsha to repair or adjust them.

I was so screwed.