Page 11 of They Were Roommates

The summer after Frankie moved, there had been virtual radio silence from Diego. Frankie had been so busy getting settled in France that he’d only stalked Diego’s social media once… or maybe twice. He’d learned that Diego had continued working at the bar, based on the several theme night photos he was tagged in on the bar’s social media. He’d also begun working at a coffee shop, making a few posts about the different brands of coffee he was sampling.

By August, Diego’s classes had begun and Frankie fell into a routine working at two cafes and a local theater. He had hoped he’d be able to utilize his business degree, but for the first few months, he was just pouring coffee and ushering people to their seats. He tried to do some traveling, but began spending weeknights messaging and eventually video calling with Diego. The time change worked out well in their favor, and Frankie was able to catch Diego in the morning and early afternoon before most of his classes began.

As the nights grew longer and colder, Frankie was less and less inclined to go out. He tried to make a point to go out every Saturday night, getting his fill on Parisian men, women, and several gender nonconforming individuals, but oftentimes he found he’d rather be cozied up online with Diego.

In October, there was a four-week gap where Diego didn’t want to FaceTime; he just wanted to message. After some incessant needling, he admitted he’d had another gender affirming procedure done, but he didn’t specify what it was. Frankie didn’t push since it was so clearly not his business. As fall turned into winter, Diego accepted a TA position for his last semester at school, and they were only able to talk every few days.

Things seemed to be going well for both of them. Frankie was able to gain managerial experience at his two jobs that kept him busy, but spring in Paris was wet and cold and Frankie began to miss home. As May approached, he decided to come home so he could go to Diego’s graduation.

Diego had grumbled and bemoaned the fact that he didn’t even want to go to graduation but Frankie had insisted. So, they struck up a deal. Frankie would buy as many clothes for Diego as he could pack, at various Parisian thrift shops and consignment stores, if and only if Diego went to graduation. Obviously, Frankie had won, so he’d lugged thirty pounds worth of clothes across an entire ocean.

As he and Penelope stumbled into his new apartment he immediately felt out of place. The apartment was practically spotless, which Penelope had mentioned from her visit, but he and his sister were a bit messy, so he’d assumed it had just been tidy by their standards. This, however, was clean to a microscopic level, like his roommate had done a white glove inspection of every surface.

Speaking of said roommate, a tall, slim, shockingly pale man walked out of the bedroom. He was accompanied by a much shorter, rounder person with olive skin and a shock of black hair, accented by an undercut dyed bright blue. The person was wearing what Frankie thought was called a Mumu, a bright pink dress with daisies printed all over it. Their hairy legs were peeking out from underneath, leading down to a pair of black crew socks.

Frankie blinked at them and wasn’t sure which was the roommate and which was… a friend? Maybe a boyfriend? Girlfriend? Gender non-descript partner?

After only a few weeks in Paris, Gabby, and Colette had launched a mission to help Frankie explore the genderqueer side of Europe, frequenting queer bars, bookstores, and authentic French cabaret, including some of the best drag shows Frankie had ever seen. He felt more conscious than ever of gender norms and how toxic the gender binary could be. He’d learned early in his stay that Colette was agender, and answered to all pronouns but associated very little with any gender in particular. They’d had some really interesting and sometimes challenging conversations about gender throughout the past year. While he wouldn’t call himself a gender expert, Frankie thought he’d come a long way since he’d stumbled through responding to Diego’s coming out a year and a half prior.

Damn. It always seemed to come back to Diego.

Frankie snapped back to attention as the shorter person cleared their throat. “I’m assuming you must be Frankie? I’m Obadiah,” the person said. Their voice was low and gravelly, like maybe they were a smoker or used to be. If they were, they clearly didn’t smoke inside because the place smelled clean, almost antiseptic.

Frankie wondered if he should ask the shorter person directly for their pronouns. Would that be awkward? Of course it would be. He tried to channel his inner Colette.

“Hi! I’m Frankie, and uh… I use he/him pronouns. And this is Penelope, my sister who uses she/her pronouns,” Frankie said leaning awkwardly on his suitcase.

The shorter person squinted at him, and then let out a huff. “You can use whatever pronouns you want with me. Some days I feel more one way or another, but pronouns and gender are not any of the ways I like to define myself. Gender is a construct created by society and upheld by stereotypes used to subjugate and oppress.”

Frankie, as so often happened, couldn’t help the next words that tumbled out of his mouth. “I can’t relate to that directly, but my roommate in France was agender, and my best friend in the states is trans.”

Obadiah raised an eyebrow. Yeah, Frankie deserved it. He had literally just played the, “I know a trans person so I can’t be transphobic” card.

“They truly are best friends. Like, he’s all he talks about day in and day out,” Penelope chimed in rather unhelpfully.

The tall man turned and smiled shyly at Penelope. “Penelope, it’s good to see you again. Frankie, I’m Seth, and I use he/him pronouns.”

“It’s good to see you too!” Penelope beamed. “Your home is just as lovely as before.”

“Yes, well, we plan to keep it that way,” Obadiah, apparentlynotFrankie’s new roommate, said. Seth scrunched up his nose and looked away.

Was this person for real? It seemed like he – could Frankie say he? Obadiahhadsaid any pronoun – was embarrassing Seth.

After an awkward beat where neither Penelope or Frankie said anything, Seth cleared his throat and said, “Uhm… I have… some allergies.”

“Seth is allergic to dust and mold. Severely allergic. Like so allergic, he can end up in the hospital. He also has severe peanut allergies, so you won’t be able to keep anything with peanuts or that could have been cross contaminated with peanuts in the house. If something ends up in the house by accident, immediately dispose of it, wipe down all surfaces and call me. As soon as I get off work I’ll come over and make sure it’s okay for Seth to come out of his room.”

Frankie felt his shoulders rising steadily towards his ears. Penelope hadn’t warned him that Seth had a vicious bodyguard in his life. Obadiah was like a pit bull, short, stout, and kind of mean.

Seth looked equally uncomfortable, and he began to wring his hands. “Obie, you’re going to scare them off.”

“Does – Obie was it? – live here?” Penelope asked, and Frankie almost rolled his eyes as she pulled out her older-sister voice. Just what they needed. More posturing.

“I do not. You would have been informed of there being a third person on the lease, which you were not,” Obie all but spit the words out and Frankie felt his hackles rise.

“Hey, I don’t know what your deal is, but—”

“I’m sorry!” Seth exclaimed, and his eyes sparkled with rapidly forming tears. “Truly, I’m so sorry! Obie is actually really,reallynice. He’s… just a bit protective of me. My last roommate let things get moldy in the fridge, and would sneak jars of peanut butter into his room. I guess he thought it would be okay, but there was cross contamination in the bathroom, and I ended up in the hospital—”

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