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That’s what today was for. And mother cluck it, I was gonna accomplish what I set out to do.
At five on the dot, I was tucked into my local coffee shop, nursing a decaf coffee and wondering if I still had time to hop in line again and get one of those lemon poppyseed muffins. Bean & Brew was the quintessential New York coffee shop—rich wood floors, fascinating murals on the walls depicting various stages of the coffee bean harvesting process, the standard array of hipsters and work-from-homers, trendy glasses and knit caps aplenty.
I fidgeted in my seat, waiting for this roommate hunt to begin.
The first potential roomie was Adalynn. She showed up ten minutes late and spent an additional ten minutes hassling the barista about a mistake on her drink. After she took her tip back out of the jar, I knew Adalynn probably wasn’t the best fit for my next New York chapter.
Potential Roomie #2 was a student named Jessie. She and I chatted politely for about twenty minutes before the dealbreaker emerged—she wanted separate fridges, each with locks. No thank you. I didn’t have the time or brain capacity for that.
As six crept closer and I awaited the final candidate to arrive, I was trying to stave off disappointment. I didn’t have a back-up option yet, and I was damn near out of choices. But I held out hope—if not this round of potential roomies, there had to be someone out there who wouldn’t shit on the wait staff and hide her leftovers under lock and key.
Kendra, my third interview, rolled in at six on the dot. She was pure blonde hair and sunshine from the second she stepped inside. I waved, knowing instinctively this was her, and Kendra’s face lit up even more.
“Hello! Are you Jessa?” She swept my way, holding out her arms to hug me as though we were long lost friends finding each other again.
“Jessa, in the flesh. Kendra?”
“It’s so nice to meet you.” After a quick squeeze, we sank into armchairs that faced each other. Kendra took off a giant messenger bag she had across her chest, setting it down with a thud.
“Whatcha got in there?” I asked. “Sounds heavy.”
“Oh, not much. Just some research for a story I’m working on.”
I perked up. This was either a red flag or the start of something very normal. “Story? Research?”
She flashed me a conspiratorial smile. Her girl next door vibes had an interesting edge. “I can’t reveal too much yet. But it’s for my latest piece. I’m a journalist forBig Apple Mag. And someday, I’ll be a famous one.” I liked the go-getter attitude immediately. Her sharp gaze washed over me, almost like an assessment. “What about you? What do you do?”
“Well, I’m…a struggling Kentucky transplant,” I said with a laugh. “Hopefullynota famous one someday."
Kendra laughed, arranging her bag near her feet before relaxing back into the seat. “Fair enough. But what would youliketo be famous for someday?”
A breath whooshed out of me. “You certainly are a journalist, huh?”
Her eyes sparkled. “Sorry, am I moving too quick? I can get intense pretty fast. It’s sort of my flaw.”
“No, no. I’m the same way. I’m just not used to having it doled back to me.”
We shared an amused smile. Despite the fact that I’d known her for seconds bordering on minutes, the ease I felt made it seem like I’d known her for much longer.
“So? Let’s hear the answer.”
“I suppose I’d love to be famous for my designs,” I said, smoothing a few wrinkles in my leggings. “I design clothing. Mostly dresses for plus-size girls. Well, for any size, but I’m trying to make a name for myself in plus-size fashion, because why not pick the skinniest fashion center of the country to try it in?”
Kendra laughed. “Now that’s an excellent mission statement. Why didn’t you lead with that?”
The question floored me. But I knew why. I didn’t share my fashion aspirations with many people because I wanted to avoid the laughter and derision that followed my dream around like hungry wolves.
“It’s dangerous to tell the world about your passion, don’t you think?” I picked at a spot on my leggings. “It’s easier to just do it and then if it happens, great, and if it doesn’t, well, there’s nobody there to sayI told you so.”
Except there were more than a couple people around to tell meI told you soif this didn’t work out.
“Right. But sometimes, don’t you think the magic of making it happen rests on shouting it out?” Kenda looked like she was caught somewhere between revelation and deep concentration.
“Is that why you introduced yourself as a someday-famous journalist?”
Her laughter felt like a breath of fresh air. “Exactly.”
“All right. So this is an interesting way to start getting to know a potential roommate,” I said before I sipped my decaf. “Most people start withwhat did you study in school, but not us. Oh, do you want anything to drink? I figured I should ask before we deep dive into another question.”
