The Roommate (Trixya)

Chapter 7: Somber Spaghetti

Katya pulled into the driveway, the sun dipping low enough in the sky that she had to squint as the shoved open the door of her muddy Subaru and swung back around to retrieve her irrigation supplies from the back seat.

Her loafers smacked against the pavement as she jogged up the the front door, a tangle of hoses and plugs and PVC pipes clutched in her arms, and managed to jostle the lock open. She was disappointed to find the house silent, no cheery, pink 'Hello!' greeting her on her way in.

Katya dumped the supplies unceremoniously on the kitchen table and pulled the pink sticky note from the plastic flower vase in the center. It was written in disgusting, loopy cursive and every 'i' was dotted with a little heart.

'Hello! Stepped out to pick up almond milk and pasta. Back soon. Spaghetti tonight!!! Kisses! -Trixie'

Katya smiled to herself and tucked the note into the pocket of her dress, wondering how anyone could be so enthused by pasta.

The house was big and empty without Trixie's chatter to fill it and barely a minute alone in the dining room was enough for Katya to grow restless. Her footsteps echoed on the linoleum and she felt skittish as she padded into the living room, the telephone in its cradle catching her eye. She glanced once over he shoulder, feeling silly about the wave of anxiety that seized her rib cage and the tendons in her hand as she grabbed the phone, squinting at the keypad before she took a hesitant step and sunk back into the pink easy chair nearby.

The chair creaked as she sat, the cushions molded from years of wear to fit a softer, rounder body than her own, but she felt at home even as she worried her lower lip between her teeth and punched a familiar number into the phone. She clutched her elbow with her opposite hand as she held the phone to her ear, listening to it ring. The answering machine picked up and she growled, waiting for the chirpy message to run its course before she could speak.

"Pearl! It's me. You said I couldn't do it but I did! I'm doing it. I'm out here and I'm thriving and I proved you wrong. Suck on that! And i know you're just standing there, listening to me talk on the machine - probably rolling your eyes too- so you can call me back if you ever want to talk to me again but you don't have to and guess what! I don't care. Call me back if you want. On this number, please. I'm sorry. I love you. Bye."

Unsatisfied and finding it difficult to breathe, Katya hung up and dropped the phone back into its cradle. She clenched her teeth for one breath. Then two, scraping her fingernails over the threadbare pink of the easy chair until her feet found the carpet and her mind returned to its cradle in her skull. Slowly, so as not to rock herself free again, she stood and wandered through the living room, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and out onto the patio where she fumbled with a cigarette until she found her lips and took a slow drag, inhaling smoke and Wisconsin air.

Katya's meditation was interrupted by a flurry of pink corduroy and grocery bags bustling through the front door, followed shortly by a singsong "Katya?"

Katya sighed an stubbed out her cigarette in the usual flowerpot, raking her fingers once through her bangs and gathering her thoughts before she pushed back through the patio door and directly into a beaming Trixie Mattel.

"Oh! Goodness, excuse me. I was just coming to check on you."

Despite her best efforts, a smile quirked the corner Katya's mouth. This woman was too good to her. "Thanks. I was on my way back in, anyway. Need help with the groceries?"

"Yes! Thank you," Trixie gushed, clasping her hands. "If you you could just put them away while I get dinner started it would mean the world."

Katya obliged and, as Trixie set a pot of water boiling on the stove, she shelved the groceries and set a container of strawberries atop the counter.

"Aren't those gorgeous! They were on sale and I couldn't resist. They might a little out of season but I can fix them into a shortcake and they'll be perfectly excellent." Trixie chattered as she emptied a box of spaghetti noodles into the the water before grabbing a cutting board to chop mushrooms and olives.

"You're quite the cook," marveled Katya, sneaking a strawberry from the box and twisting off the stem.

"Not really! I tried to learn after I got married and old a few dishes really stuck. I'm good enough, though."

"Good enough," Katya echoed, popping the strawberry into her mouth. It burst on her tongue and a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. Just then, the telephone cut through the steam and conversation of the kitchen. Katya's eyes widened and she moved towards the living room but Trixie, wiping her hands on the front of her dress, was faster.

"I bet it's 'Vanni! -Hello?"

Katya froze, holding her breath as she watched Trixie from the doorway as she answered the phone. Her brow furrowed and she frowned, giving Katya a sideways glance. The strawberry went bitter at the back of her throat. 

"Oh! Um, no. This is Trixie, her roommate.

"Er, yes, she's right-"

Katya threw her hands up and shook her head insistently, taking a step away from the living room. Trixie stuttered, juggling confusion and communication.

"Oh, sorry. Sorry, dear. She's not...here? She's not here. Katy- your mother, isn't here right now. Can't come to the phone. So sorry. Can I take a-"

Katya shook her head harder, making frantic cutting motions across her throat. Trixie got the message.

"Ah! Sorry. Call back later, dear. Goodnight!"

Katya finally exhaled as Trixie hung up and smashed the phone back into its cradle. Her expression was unreadable.

"God, sorry. Thank you. I just didn't want to-"

"Pearl?"

Katya balled her hands into fists, willing Trixie not to ask anymore questions.

"Yes. Pearl. My daughter."

"And you...she-"

"We're not on the best terms at the moment," Katya euphemized, rocking back on her heels. Trixie arched her eyebrows but stayed silent, pressing her lips into a thin line before bustling back into the kitchen to finish their somber spaghetti.