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Carrie had decided to take it upon herself to convince me that I was beautiful. She made it a habit of boosting my confidence by making me wear dresses around our apartment. She even went a step further to force me to catwalk in the dresses she made me wear, often complimenting my curvy body and blue eyes.
My roommate always made me feel good. She was a good friend, the thought of seeing her leave almost brought me to tears. Not only was Carrie getting married, but she was also ten million richer than I was now. She had her whole life mapped out at just Twenty-three. Don’t get me wrong, I was definitely happy for her, but the thought of how miserable and lonely my life would be without her made me sad. But being broke made me even sadder.
I need a way to make money fast! I thought.
I picked myself up, paid for the second glass of Scotch, and headed for my car. I needed to get home in time to help Carrie pack up her bags before moving in with her fiancé. Everything was working out great for her. God knows she deserved all the good things that came her way. But what was I doing wrong with my life? What is it I was missing? Why couldn’t I have it all like Carrie?
The drive home from the bar was the longest I had ever taken. My mind was engrossed in how I could turn things around for myself. God knows how much I needed things to work out. I pulled up on the street like I had so many times before, but that day felt different. It would be the last time I would find Carrie in the house. It was then that it dawned on me that she was really moving out.
“Carrie, I’m home,” I called out to her.
I heard a loud sigh, followed by a curse, then she walked out of her room with her hand on her waist.
“Thank God, your home. I can’t seem to reach for my suitcase on top of the stupid wardrobe. What took you so long? You were supposed to be here 30 minutes ago,” she said, looking almost relieved by my presence.
“I passed by the bar on my way here,” I told her in my defense.
“Hey, everything okay, Gina?” she sounded a little softer this time, a little concerned. Carrie was lovely like that. She always knew when something was off with me. It was needless for me to deny when something was not right. She’d seen me through so much during my college life.
“I’m fine, Carrie, nothing to fuss about,” I said in finality as I walked to get her suitcase from her room.
“You know you can always talk to me, Gina. I’m always here for you,” she responded, grabbing her suitcase from my grip.
“I just need everything to work out, Carrie. I just need everything to work out,” I repeated myself as my voice faded in disappointment. “I need to be able to work on my art and not have to worry about my bills. I want that financial freedom, you know, where I can just focus on my art and only my art. I was thinking maybe I could try making money the way you did, you know. It worked out for you. Maybe it could be the breakthrough I need, Carrie. What do you think?” I asked curiously.
My roommate was a good judge of character; her advice was often what I needed in my life. She was always the protective one, always wanted what’s best for me. What she had to say really mattered to me.
“Are you sure you want to go down that road, Gina?” she asked sternly, almost like my mother would ask. Although we were almost the same age, Carrie reminded me so much of my late mother.
“Yes, mom,” I answered sarcastically.
We both burst into loud laughter. We kept packing, laughing for almost a minute before I finally asked her again what she thought.
“Do you think I could make money off of my virginity? Would that work for me?” I asked, then giggled.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, Gina. You know I want what’s best for you all the time,” she let me see that she meant every word she spoke. Carrie always spoke from the heart. It’s what I really admired about her.
“And, yes, I think it would work for you as well. Who knows, maybe you’d find someone to sweep you off your feet like I did,” she giggled, looking at me.
“Coming from you, that means a lot. Would you help me set up my account?” I asked, already knowing she’d help me out.
“Well, you helped me out. I’d be happy to help you.” She smiled and retrieved her laptop from her room. I was going to miss her so much. A few seconds later, she returned with her laptop in hand, then sat on the couch, ready to do her magic.
