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October 6, 2010
Sonia pulled her bookbag onto her bed and unzipped the top a few inches to peek inside. She pulled out her laptop, then stuffed everything that came out with it back into her bookbag.
Becky had swiveled around in her desk chair to watch Sonia retrieving her laptop. Her lips were puckered, and one eyebrow quirked up as she silently looked on.
“Is it drugs?” Becky asked.
Sonia was startled at Becky’s question. “What?”
“You are all weird about your bookbag. Are you carrying around drugs?”
“No, I would never use drugs.”
Becky gave a small shake of her head, turned back to her desk, and continued typing.
Becky was the roommate Sonia got assigned as a freshman, and the two hit it off. Sonia’s mother complained to anyone who would listen that Sonia should be paired with another Fashion Design student, but that was against school policy for matching freshman roommates. They had grown close that first year, watching movies together, eating popcorn while they were studying, eating together at the cafeteria. But now, in their sophomore year, things felt different.
Sonia opened her laptop, readying herself for the work she needed to do on a paper. But her fingers hovered over the keyboard and her eyes drifted to her bookbag. The brochures from Dr. Miller peeked out. She didn’t want to have to look at them, although keeping them in there forced her to get a glance of them every time she got into her bookbag.
Sonia repositioned the pillows on her bed to make a more comfortable work area for herself. She took a deep breath and then opened the document she had started weeks ago for this major paper in History. She scowled at the blurriness on the page and zoomed in to make it easier to read. Sonia bit her lip as she thought about how much writing she needed to do to get this history paper done. She had procrastinated both researching and writing this paper for far too long. Her fingers remained poised over the keyboard as she considered just how much she had put off since her visit with Dr. Miller.
Sonia closed her eyes and gave her head a shake, trying to get rid of everything that had been holding her back and just get to work. Sonia reached over her left shoulder to rub at the pain building there. What could be causing this pain?
She clicked on her browser and typed shoulder pain in the search bar. Various ailments appeared on her screen, and she could feel her pulse quicken to see how many different health problems could cause shoulder pain.
She clicked on “Myofascial pain syndrome” and read the various symptoms and treatments. Sonia skipped over stretching and massage that were listed as possible treatments, but focused on “cold laser.” She could feel her stomach clench as she read Myofascial pain syndrome was a long-term health condition that could be treated with lasers or steroid injections. Sonia winced at the thought of something piercing her skin or burning into her body.
“What’s wrong?”
Sonia jumped at Becky’s voice. She had been concentrating so hard on her computer screen, she didn’t notice Becky turning to face her again.
“Nothing’s wrong. Why?”
Becky shook her head. “You’re over there making these noises, and when I turn to look at you, you’ve got this look on your face like someone is torturing you. And nothing is wrong?”
Sonia willed her face to be calm and relaxed. “No, nothing.”
Becky turned back to her desk with a snort. “I don’t get you.”
Sonia could feel guilt curl around her. She’d be trying to act casual, but it clearly wasn’t working. Without thinking, her hand drifted to her bookbag, and she played with the zipper pull.
Becky really likes cookies, so maybe I could bake a batch of cookies when I go home over the next break to make up with her.
Sonia stared blankly at her laptop, no longer focusing on the information about Myofascial pain syndrome, but considering what to do about her situation with Becky. It was obvious there was now a strain between them, which Sonia had not intended at all. Would it make things better if I apologized? But wouldn’t that make Becky think I had been doing something wrong? Something immoral, if not illegal?
Sonia opened a new browser tab and looked at the college calendar, noting that course selection for next semester would soon be open. According to the Fashion Design Department, for her junior year, Sonia would need to take Surface Design for Textiles, Pattern Making, and Tailoring. These classes all needed her to be able to see the fine details of garments and make adjustments where needed. Would her eyesight last long enough to complete these classes? What about her senior year, when the expectations were even higher?
Sonia realized she had been lost in her thoughts for far too long, again. She sighed, closed the browsers on her laptop, and opened her Word document to get back to work on her research paper. Sonia sat and chewed on her lip before deciding she really needed to get a drink before she could get down to work. She went to her closet and rummaged around on the top shelf, searching for the electric kettle her mother insisted she bring to college. She also dug out the shoe box that had instant coffee, hot chocolate packets, and several tea bags floating around in it.
“I’m going to make myself some tea. Want some? Or coffee or hot chocolate?”
“Nah.”
“M’kay. Be right back.”
Sonia pulled a mug and tea bag out of a shoebox in her closet and set them on her dresser, tucked the electric kettle under her arm, and opened the door to walk over to the lounge to fill the kettle with water. As she pulled the door shut, Becky turned and made eye contact with her, then glanced at her bed where her bookbag and laptop sat. Becky swiveled back to her work; the invisible wall being built between them was palpable.
I wish I could take my bookbag with me, but that would look really suspicious.
Sonia returned after her kettle boiled and nervously eyed her bookbag, wondering if Becky’s glance toward it meant she would look in it to see what she was hiding. Sharing a room was harder than she thought it would be. Maybe I could casually ask her if she looked in my bookbag?
Sonia cleared her throat, wishing she could get rid of the strangling sensation.
Sonia’s voice wavered as she broke the silence. “You haven’t been, um, poking around in my bookbag, have you?”
Becky whirled toward Sonia. “What?”
Sonia hesitated, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her laptop. “I... I noticed you were curious about my bookbag...”
Becky’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Why would you ask me something like that? You automatically assume I look in it the first chance I get! Is that the kind of person you think I am?”
As Becky questioned her, Sonia's eyes flitted around the room, avoiding the intensity of Becky's stare. Sonia bit her lip and looked at the floor. “Well, no. It’s just... you haven’t been as willing to talk to me this semester as you were last semester.”
Becky stood up, knocking her chair over. “What are you talking about? I told you about the house fire we had this summer. Why are you making this about me? What about you!?”
Sonia felt her heart rate increase and her breath grew ragged and shallow. “But nothing happened to me this summer,” Sonia protested.
“What is wrong with you?” Becky demanded.
Sonia gaped at her, shocked Becky was confronting her about her eyesight.
Becky continued, “You accuse me of being a snoop and then you say I won’t talk to you. I can’t believe I thought you were my friend.” Becky stormed out of the room, leaving her chair on the floor.
Relief and worry battled within Sonia, the conflict in her chest leaving her uncertain how to untangle the knots. She doesn’t know anything about my eyes, but I sure made a mess of things with her. Why is living with other people so hard?
Sonia thought back to the worst argument she could remember about sharing space. It was the summer she turned twelve and had spent a whole year with her Girl Scout troop, learning how to sew from Maeve.