I still haven’t seen the first half of High School Musical 2. Maybe I never will.

We haven’t lived together for years — after that one awful semester in an all-girls’ dorm — but Kate Brown was my roommate until just a few weeks ago. She was that place’s one saving grace. She was the only person who could have possibly made our cinder-block room feel like home. She was the only person who could make me feel safe when everything began to fall apart.

I am fully convinced that she is the only person who could have resolved somewhat-serious disagreements with pillow fights from across the room and the only person who could have made talking about a sex column in the school newspaper more intellectual than differential equations homework. (What are the bases, anyway?)

But really, it’s not the plastic box of chocolate cookie ingredients we carried to C.J.’s apartment, the hand-painted dishes we made or her late-night Coyote Ugly (or Saved!) DVD intros on repeat that kept me awake long after she had fallen asleep that made Kate my roommate. It was High School Musical 2, on Tivo (probably actually Moxi, but who’s worried about brand names?), two years and three apartments after we stopped living together that is making it so hard to accept that Kate’s label has lost its singular nature; she is now my first roommate, my freshman year roommate, my insert-qualifier-that-the-new-roommates-don’t-have-here roommate.

When HSM2 premiered, Kate and her two roommates recorded it on DVR. The day they watched it, at least three other people were crammed into her living room. When I knocked on her door — sobbing after a fight with the ex-boyfriend-turned-best-friend-turned-what-the-hell-is-he? — she just invited me in. I sat with her on the floor with my back against her couch and watched Vanessa and Troy figure out summer lovin’ in full-on musical style. All I remember about the movie is that Miley Cyrus is dancing in the final scene. And that I felt safe.

But when I got “home” to my new place tonight, a two-page, carefully stapled lease was on my bed. Rent. Security deposit. Rules (no dogs… with a line crossed through it). I scribbled my name at the bottom of the lease; Haven — she lives across the hall — signed one too.

I lived with Kate for the Fall 2004 semester; since then, I’ve lived alone, and she has lived with nine other girls in two places. But today was, officially, Kate’s last day as my roommate… my only roommate ever.

My friendship with Kate has changed a lot since we shared a mini-fridge and nearly everything but our toothbrushes during our first semester of college, but this is the first time I’ve ever really thought about how much has stayed the same. We have lunch plans for Wednesday, and I anticipate her supportive giggles when I tell her about my recent changes-of-plans, her just-prying-because-she-knows-I-want-to-tell-her questions about my love life and the way she carefully expresses any hint of disapproval at our differences. I’m excited to be updated about her housing situation, to hear about her internship at Vintage and to catch up on the details of the life plan.

But mostly, I look forward to just being me and feeling safe. With my (what’s the perfect modifier?) roommate.

One Response to “My Roommate”

1. This Ordinary Day » Does it come in green? Says:
   July 14th, 2008 at 12:00 am

   [...] and helped me pick out a helmet that comfortably fits my ponytail. He even put up with me bringing Kate along to help pick out the right “bike outfit.” And he told me I was wrong to feel like [...]

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