A Spark in Chemistry

Kelly Can't KEL-Leave Him Alone

I.

The woman is here again, Adam knew she would be.

For the past few months, Adam has been seeing a fifth roommate in his all-male dormitory, a roommate whom no one else can see. And who, apparently, cannot see him either.

When he had first moved in, Adam thought she was the guest of one of his roommates, a particularly rude guest since she didn't even spare him a glance when she sat next to him on his bed. In his room. Walking right through so comfortably, like she had always meant to occupy that space beside him.

Initially, it had disarmed him, this sudden figure breezing into his life so familiarly, without any pretenses of social norms. He had sat there and waited for her to start a conversation or offer an explanation as to why she came in, but she never did. And he was too afraid to shatter that small, quiet moment of peace between them, so he never asked.

Besides, something about her was pretty to look at, like a cat lounging lazily.

It wasn't until later, when introductions among his roommates were finished, when Adam realized no one else could see the woman microwaving dinner in the middle of their conversation.

She couldn't see them either, so she didn't notice that when she went to sit down on a chair (one that suddenly materialized before her), her leg brushed against his.

Adam had thought she was a ghost, but this was the moment when he began to have doubts.

Because ghosts can't generate heat.

And it had been warm in the space where their legs touched.

II.

In the mornings, she wakes him up by rustling around in his—their bedroom. Sometimes, she glares at the alarm on her phone, and Adam can practically see the scale in her mind weighing the option of going back to sleep or not.

You've got to wake up, you have that exam coming up soon, he would sometimes remind her, silently urging her with an amused grin. As her invisible roommate, Adam knew what she looked like when she was studying for something, what times she would stay out at the library, the odd hours she would pour over her notes while blue light casted long shadows over her face.

One time, he made an herbal tea for her as a pick-me-up and set the mug on her—their desk. The tea grew cold waiting for her to drink it, which she never did.

In the afternoons, Adam wonders what his mysterious roommate eats for lunch, whether she's eating well or dining with friends. His musings sometimes distract him from lab work and get him scolded by the TA for messing up the reflux procedure, but that doesn't deter him from worrying about her.

In a way, it feels less lonely to have her occupy his mind. It's as if the image of her walks alongside him even when she's not there to haunt him. It's easier, maybe, than to go through the anxiety of talking to another person. An idea is safer to hold, after all.

When he comes home in the evenings, sometimes she stays out later for a club meeting or for some social event or other. The room is quieter, then, so Adam usually occupies the time by catching up on assignments while he waits for her to come home. It embarrasses him, the relief that surges through him when she walks through their door, as if he can finally breathe now that she's back. Even more embarrassing is the weightlessness he feels on the evenings he comes back from somewhere. When he opens their door and sees her sitting reclined on their bed, it feels like she's welcoming him home. The slog of the outside world leaves him for just that small, brief period.