I stood underneath a store awning to avoid the rain and waited at the corner of Broadway Street and Cambie Street, watching the bustle of everyone rushing to get home after the day’s work. Street traffic was just starting to get dense, and the cars were slowing down in speed, unable to move any faster than a crawl. I nursed two Starbucks cups in both hands, enjoying their warmth as I kept an eye out for Sacha, who had promised to help me shop for a TV this Friday evening.
It wasn’t long before I spotted a familiar figure in a long charcoal grey overcoat matched with a navy knit scarf heading towards me. I looked up and smiled at Sacha, offering one of the coffee cups I held. Seeing the sparkling droplets sprinkled over his dark brown hair, I smiled at my friend whom I’ve known since my university days.
“Leave your umbrella at home?” I chided, opening my own after Sacha took the coffee from my hand.
“No – at work, actually,” he responded, taking a quick sip from the cup. “Thanks. This is exactly what I needed after schlepping around in this…stuff.” He grimaced, looking down at his black leather shoes, covered with slushy snow melted by the rain. “I think I preferred the freezing cold of yesterday. At least the snow was still solid.”
I looked at Sacha’s shoes, tilting my head in thought. “You need man boots.”
“Yes, and those would go really well with my dress pants. I thought you were supposed to be good with fashion, Ellie,” Sacha said, taking the umbrella from my hand since I was having trouble holding it six feet above the ground to accommodate his height. “I hope you’re not writing about men’s fashion in your next blog entry.”
I gave Sacha a glare. “Hey, I could…if I wanted.”
“Then do your readers a favour and make sure I approve of it before you hit ‘Post’.” Sacha raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth curled upward in a growing smile.
Or a smirk. The smug bastard.
I squinted my eyes at him, trying to look evil. “I’m not one of your subordinates, mister. Don’t treat me like one of your office clerks. I don’t need you to approve anything,” I said, trying to sound as cocky as he looked.
“Sorry shorty. It’s just that you look a bit like our new marketing assistant. I get you two confused sometimes.”
“You snob,” I simply retorted, unable to outwit Sacha for the gazillionth time. “I don’t know why I still hang out with you.”
“Because you need to learn better banter,” Sacha said matter-of-factly, not missing a beat. “And, because I know my electronics.”
We walked north along Cambie Street, heading for the Best Buy near 6th Street. Jokes aside, we moved the conversation along to what kind of a TV I’d like to buy, and what brands were the best. Even though Sacha was good with electronics, I was hesitant to buy anything based on specs alone. I explained that I really wanted to make sure that this new TV fit into my apartment, unlike the last one, which apparently was top-of-the-line, but was way too big for our apartment – courtesy of David’s decision.
“It needs to look nice with my TV stand,” I stated. “I need to visually like it.”
“Pun intended?”
“No. Um…yes. Geez – I dunno,” I mumbled. We had just walked into the Best Buy and I was overwhelmed by the bright lights and goods displayed everywhere. We headed towards the section with televisions. The store was relatively quiet since it was mid-January, way past the boxing week sales madness. Sacha and I walked down the first row of televisions displayed and was quickly approached by a sales person, eager to help.
“Looking for a TV? For the house? Or a spare room?” he asked. He was an older man in his late forties or early fifties who spoke with a mild accent.
“Uh…neither,” I replied.
“It’s for an apartment,” Sacha interjected. “We’re looking for something between 42 to 50 inches, maybe plasma, 1080p.”
I nodded dumbly, trusting Sacha on…almost everything to do with this television except for its size and visual appeal. I had sworn to make myself do some research beforehand, but dealing with a breakup during the holidays had taken up all of my energy. And now, all I really cared to do is cuddle up on the couch with a new TV, drinking a cup of warm cocoa, my cat snuggled up next to me, and not worry about how it all came to be, 1080p or not.
“We have some good ones on sale,” the salesperson said, snapping me out of my reverie. He walked us over to one television set. “This one is good one, 46 inches, 1080p, plasma display…”
Sacha looked at the label sticker on the set. “Hmm. 120 hertz.” He looked over at me. “You still gaming a lot?”
“What’s ‘a lot’?” I asked. “Maybe once a week? Is that considered a lot?” I ventured.
“Enough to warrant getting something better.” He turned to the salesperson again. “Do you have anything with 240 hertz?”
I had no idea what Sacha was talking about. Should have done my research, I thought to myself. I focused on some of the other sets that were sitting on the shelves that looked kind of pretty.
“If you need 240 hertz, then I would recommend you getting this one,” he said, pointing to another television set. This one was enormous. “This one is one of our customer favourites.”
Sacha walked over to check out the set.
“It’s huge, Sacha. It would never fit on my stand.”
“It’s 50 inches,” he replied, inspecting the base. “It’s not too bad…it might.”
“Yes, the man knows what he wants,” the salesperson said, winking at me in jest. “We shouldn’t get in the way of a man and his TV.”
“But it’s going to be my TV,” I said, trying to smile politely.
“Ah,” he said to Sacha with a smile and an understanding look, “I hope the miss isn’t going to fight with you for the remote control.”
Sacha cleared his throat, looking over at me. Should I correct him, or will you? was his silent question to me.
“We’re not together,” I said. No smile now.
Somehow, people always thought Sacha and I were a couple. After half a decade of being friends, it was getting tiresome correcting people. Sacha had told me once that this happened to him all the time, no matter what girl he was with, so obviously it was a problem with him and not me. Maybe he just had the typical “boyfriend” look.
The salesperson sobered. “Oh. I’m sorry miss,” he said, looking from me to Sacha. “You two looked like…”
“It’s okay, don’t worry about it,” Sacha said. He quickly changed the topic. “So do you have anything smaller? The ‘miss’ says this one is too big.”
Fifty minutes later, we were out of the store, with the order and delivery receipts safely tucked in my purse. Based on my budget, I had decided on a 46 inch
LED television, 1080p and 120 hertz. But most importantly, it would look good with my TV stand. We headed towards Broadway Street again, to find ourselves some dinner.
“Thanks for your help Sacha. It’s great having someone knowledgeable to help me shop. Dinner’s my treat. What do you feel like?”
“Anything,” he said. “I’m starving and can eat a cow.”
“Sorry,” I said to Sacha, “I didn’t realize how late it was.” I quickened my pace to allow him to walk faster. Being much taller than me, Sacha had larger strides and usually slowed down to accommodate my much shorter, Asian-sized strides. I was always struggling to keep pace with him, even though I considered myself a relatively fast walker.
We decided on a sushi restaurant close by, and I readily warmed myself up with the hot matcha tea that was served.
“So how are you doing being alone nowadays?” Sacha asked as we got settled into our seats.
“I’m fine,” I replied. “It’s nice having the place to myself sometimes, being able to toss everything everywhere without a care to what anyone thinks. You know how David was always super neat and tidy.”
Sacha smiled. “Okay, don’t invite me over. I don’t want to see piles of clothes and garbage strewn about.”
“Hey, I’m not that bad!” I defended myself. “But I am worried about my finances.”
“Spending too much?”
“No. Just…a larger mortgage payment now that David’s gone,” I admitted.
Sacha studied me while taking a drink from his tea cup. “If you have no money, then why did you just buy a TV twenty minutes ago?”
“Because I need entertainment! Having a TV is stress-relieving. And I need to relieve pressure,” I emphasized. “C’mon, you should know about that. You’re a guy.” Then I looked closely at Sacha’s finely tailored shirt and high-end cashmere scarf. “Or maybe not. You’re metro.”
“You say that like I’m gay or something.”
“You mean you’re not?” I began to smile, not able to help myself. “Sorry, it’s just that you sort of look like this gay friend that I have. I get confused sometimes,” I retorted, pleased with myself for my late comeback.
Sacha laughed in mock amusement. “You don’t have a gay friend, Ellie. And despite what you think, I’m not it.”
“Not yet,” I grinned at him, trying to look innocent while administering the coup de grâce.
Sacha rolled his eyes, smiling for real this time. The truth was, he was far from being gay, and we both knew it. With his blue eyes and dark hair, Sacha had classic good looks worthy of a Polo ad. As such, Sacha always had a line of girls for dates. The fact that he worked in marketing at a large firm and had tickets to all of the cool client-sponsored events in town certainly kept them coming. Ironically, other than a few dates here and there, Sacha was still single. Of the time I’ve known him since second-year university, Sacha hadn’t dated a girl for longer than six months. I figured that this was due to the fact that his standards were too high. Sometimes I wondered how he ever accepted me as his best female friend, he was so damn picky.
“Okay, enough jokes about my sexual orientation. Back to the TV,” Sacha said. “Explain why you need one if you’re so short on money.”
“Like I said, it relieves my stress. Believe it or not, being an admin assistant has its pressures too.”
“I don’t doubt that, Ellie. I’m just asking you if you really need a TV for now. Maybe you could hold that off until you save some money.”
“No,” I insisted, “it’s important.” My voice was sombre as I looked at the grains of wood in the table, running my fingers along each line. “Since David left,” I started, thinking of the right way to articulate my thoughts, “the apartment feels…empty.” I looked up at Sacha briefly, unsure he if would laugh at me and tell me that I was being silly. “And I think having something to do, and some lights and sounds in the apartment would fill some of that void.”
Sacha was silent. His right elbow was propped on the table, index finger held up against his nose and chin resting on his thumb. This was his usual “thinking” pose whenever he was deep in thought or evaluating someone. I always wondered if the L-shape that his finger and thumb subsequently made was his private way of calling somebody a loser.
“Could you get a roommate?” he asked.
“That’s exactly what Madison said. I’m hesitant to, which is what I told her too.”
“Because you’re so messy?”
I gave Sacha my evil eye, for the second time tonight. “Like I said, I’m not that messy. Just because you’re a minimalist doesn’t make everyone else a slob. Some of us like to have stuff around us. You know, like furniture and belongings. You ever hear about those?” I referenced the fact that Sacha hardly owned anything. At least, nothing that he displayed in his spiffy loft apartment.
“Sure, coming from the girl who doesn’t even have a TV or a coffee table. I at least have those,” Sacha said.
“Yeah, but that’s all you have. Your place seriously needs a woman’s touch.” I said. “Or actually, anyone’s touch.”
Sacha just chuckled and shook his head. “My place is fine, Ellie. I know having a television is helpful, but so is having a healthy chequing account. If after a few months, you’re not having any extra money to save, then you should look into other options. Like a roommate.”
“Extra money to save? Geez, Sacha, I might not even have money to pay my bills!”
Sacha drank his tea, looking at me seriously. “Room. Mate.”
I threw the floppy laminated menu at him. “Order your food. I’ll think about it.”
On my way home from dinner, I went to check my mailbox. Out fluttered a few flyers, some coupon books and a few undistinguished envelopes. I grabbed everything and went up to my apartment, flipping through them. I got to the envelopes by the time I stepped inside my apartment. I looked at them, sighing.
Mastercard bill. Hydro bill. Internet bill. I threw them on top of my Visa bill which was already sitting on the counter. I opened them, looking at the amounts. I sighed again.
“Roommate indeed,” I muttered to myself.
~ To Be Continued ~
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