Housemates

Chapter Four

The Artist

When Dominick turns to leave, he spots me out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, Anne!" He smiles widely. "I'm sorry I left so suddenly during orientation. Did you find your way around okay?"

"Definitely! Please don't worry about it." I smile back.

"Well," He shrugs, "Lemme know if you need help unpacking. I'll have to make it up to you somehow."

"I finished already, but," He smiles at me expectantly, "Do you know where I could donate some things? I brought way too much."

He nods, "Yeah, there are some clothes and book swaps on campus; just have to look up where they are..."

He walks past me and gestures for me to follow him. He leads me into what I assumed was his room. The walls were a light olive color and he had a king size bed with dark green covers.

Dominick and I spend the next hour looking up dates, locations, and directions for numerous swap events and directions to nearby thrift stores.

I've never had a guy go out of his way for me, though I'm sure he's just doing his job as an RA.

As I walk out of Dominick's room with a stack of helpful papers, I see the pole-painting boy come out of Isabella's room covered in considerably more paint smearage than earlier.  Did he spend all that time cleaning up?

"Um, hi."

He turns to me and presses his hands together in what I can only assume is a respectful gesture. "Namaste! You are new, yes?"

"Y-yes. My name's Anne."

"I am Rakesh. It is good to meet you, Anne." He smiles.

"Do you always..." I have no idea how to phrase this tactfully.

Rakesh tilts his head. "Greet roommates?" I shake my head. "Have paint on? Oh! Oh, no. I do not always paint other people's belongings." He smiles reassuringly then adds, "Well, most of the time."

I gasp. "What do you mean 'most of the time'?"

"Uh," He averts his eyes to the left. "Have you ever had a thought so strong it controls your actions? When I am inspired like that EVERYTHING becomes my canvas."

"I see." I SEE I may have to invest in a lock for my door. I try to figure out a sweet way to ask Rakesh to leave my things alone when my stomach growls. I try not to let it show, as he stares me down smiling, but suddenly I'm very aware of the smell of food coming from downstairs.

"Ah, it is dinner time." He half smiles.

"Who's cooking?"

"Usually, it is me, but today is Sally's turn." He doesn't look particularly happy about it.

"...is she a bad chef?"

"Nonono, she's very good, just..." His face falls, "She doesn't cook with any meat or milk products. Not even butter!"

"She's vegan?"

"Yes, vegan."

Back home there was no such thing as a vegan, not even a vegetarian. We only had steak, potatoes, convenience store food, maybe some Chinese takeout if we wanted to be particularly fancy.

I wonder what a vegan meal looked like.