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Whitney and I started rooming together about six months ago. She was in the process of giving her boyfriend of three years an ultimatum and my last roommate had taken a job in Atlanta. We’ve been friends since high school, but never super close, which makes the roommate arrangement work pretty great.
“Hey,” she sing-songs as she walks into the living room carrying two armfuls of shopping bags. She drops them by the chair and plops down with a delicate grunt.
Whitney’s parents are loaded and unlike me and Sophie, she doesn’t mind taking every penny they give her. According to another mutual friend of ours, she’s only had access to her trust fund for three years and has blown through half of it. So, late last year, her parents put her on a budget.
The entire idea is laughable, because she still buys and does whatever she wants.
“Looks like you had a good day,” I surmise by the huge smile on her face. I know shopping is her drug of choice, but it takes a lot for Whitney to look this blissed out.
She sits up straight and presses her lips together as she exhales, then she shoves a hand toward me. “Conrad proposed!”
Leaning forward, my mouth falls open as my eyes grow wide as I try to take in the ring on Whitney’s hand. Now, that’s a diamond. There’s no way this rock is less than six carats. I also try to hide my shock, not that she’s getting married. We’ve always known Whit’s ultimate goal in life was to land a rich husband, but I didn’t see it coming so quickly.
“You’re going to need a brace to hold your hand up.”
“I know!” she squeals. “Isn’t it gorg?”
It really is stunning, huge but stunning. “Congratulations,” I finally say, extracting myself from the couch to give her a hug.
She lightly pats my back, never being one for much affection.
“Let the wedding planning begin,” she says, folding her hands in her lap as she stares at the ring. “I was thinking about a bachelorette party in Paris. That’s where my designer is and if we time it right, I’ll be able to do my dress fitting while we’re there. Of course the wedding has to be here, my mother practically has it planned already. She put deposits down last year.”
“You weren’t even engaged last year.”
“Well, you can’t wait until the last minute, silly,” she says, waving me off. “Anyway, you’ll be one of my bridesmaids, and Soph, of course. I need to make some calls.”
She shifts to stand, gathering her bags, and stops. “Oh, I almost forgot. Conrad bought us an apartment in the Quarter, and he wants me to move in right away. The bottom floor has already been remodeled, but he’s letting me redecorate the top floor. I can’t wait!”
“So, you’re moving out?” I ask, following her from the room with my chip bag in one hand and wine in the other as dread collects in the pit of my stomach like a lead weight.
“Next week,” she verifies. “But don’t worry, I’ll pay up my portion of rent for a few months to give you time to find a new roomie.”
That’s really nice of Whitney. She’s not usually so thoughtful.
“Conrad suggested it when he surprised me with the ring and apartment. I told him it probably wasn’t necessary, but you know how he is.”
Yes, I do know. Conrad is actually a nice guy, and how Whitney landed him, I’ll never know.
She might be my roommate, and our friendship dates back to high school, but Whitney is one of those surface level friends. You always know where you stand with her, and that’s below her status and money. Nothing comes between or above those two. She was bred to be a prize pony and she’s happy to fill that role.
“I appreciate it.”
She pauses again in the hallway. “Are you okay? Why are you in pajamas already? It’s Friday night.”
“Long day at work,” I tell her, powering on the television. I don’t even bother telling her about the turn of events in my life because, let’s face it, she’s not really that interested.
Once she’s gone, I down the glass of wine I poured myself and switch it out for the bottle. This day just keeps giving. Now, not only do I have to find superhuman strength to stay away from Mack Granger, but I also have to suffer through the grueling process of finding another roommate.
Whitney’s getting married and moving into the apartment of her dreams.
Sophie is living her best life, engaged to Mister Sexy Balls.
And I’m sitting alone on my couch, chugging straight from a bottle of wine and eating my feelings.
Like Whitney, I have a trust fund, but unlike Whitney, I don’t like using it.
It’s tempting, but also feels a lot like spending blood money. My parents love to use money as leverage, not just in business, but in their personal lives as well. At a very young age, I realized how it worked in the Hawthorne household. Every relationship they have has been bought with a price, except mine.
