Log Line: Super cute Kaz Miles moves to the bustling city of Edmonton with NOTHING but dreams. No impressive work history, not enough money, no place to stay at… neither… brains for love and relationships! To make her idiosyncrasies even worse, she meets the beautiful, shrewd, principled — and — ‘super straight’ Jane Randall who becomes her roommate, self-proclaimed mentor, love guiding light, and… FANTASY!
Warning: Crude Humor/Language
A one-bedroom apartment with a spacious living area. Conveniently spacious that even the wooden partition walls have the audacity to create an extra bedroom, welcoming me in. No wonder why it’s too cheap. “Great,” I murmur. “So I’m pretty much like… squatting in here.”
“No, you’re not,” she says. “See? You got your own nice bed, a side table, a computer table with a cozy chair, and a closet. So where’s the sign of you squatting?”
“It’s not really a bedroom though. I thought you had a two-bedroom apartment.”
“For 800 bucks? Two-bedroom apartments cost over 1200, honey. Stop dreaming.”
“I just assumed that you had a two-bedroom apartment, that’s all.”
“This is a couple’s suite. We’re not a couple, so you can’t stay in the room with me.”
“I did not say I wanted to stay in any room with you.”
“So stop whining then, and start getting your life together.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, you need to start organizing your stuff now. Gees. You easily get offended every time I open my mouth.”
“’Cause mean things just fly out of there.”
“It’s honesty strike.”
“You’re making it so impossible for me to like you with all your ridicules.” Please don’t look into my eyes. I mean it! Ugh… Now she’s probing into my secret loon! Seriously! That’s private property, woman! Get away! Get away!
“There’s some stirring action going on in your luminous pupils,” she says, gasping a little.
“What stirring action?”
“I don’t like your luminous pupils.”
“And I don’t care.”
“Well, I do care. ‘Cause it… It makes me go… huffy! And I don’t like going huffy!”
“Huffy? What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m outraged, all right?”
“Over what?” I’m taken aback.
“Forget it.” She lays my suitcase down on the floor and zips it open. “You need a hand with organizing your stuff or what?”
I march into the kitchen. “No. Just stay huffy!”
“Where are you going?” she yells after my sudden walk-out.
I serve myself a glass of water and gulp it all down.
And she appears before me. “You already feel like home, huh? Good.”
“Thanks,” I say. “Now lay out the rules.”
“Me,” she chuckles. “Floating in there.“
I pout. “I’ve already told you, you’re not my type.”
“Honey, your luminous pupils can’t lie about these things,” she says, sniggering. “Bingo.”
“I thought you hated my luminous pupils.”
“Oh yeah. I still do. And I’m still… huffy… about this.”
“I don’t like that word. Huffy. It’s so off.”
“And that’s exactly what I feel right now, so… don’t be surprised if my outrage goes over the top anytime soon, especially… Especially if you’re fond of running away from the… the whipping truth.”
“What whipping truth?” Why the hell is she shoving words into my mouth for? The horrifying words. That I’m whacked up all of a sudden. Like… madly-in-love whacked up.
“That you’re already… you know… bewitching me… in there,” And she bursts out laughing.
“You’re such a narcissistic ass. So vain-glorious for believing that everyone lusts after you.”
“Especially the gay chicks! Uh-huh!”
“Have you ever thought of purchasing yourself some nice personality to match with your stunning looks?”
“Oh, honey. The nice personality is only meant for insignificant entities… Got the subtext? Or you need a savior for some brain expansion.”
More like, brain surgery, really. “Do you always terrorize people with sarcasm?”
She chortles. “Ah, Kaz. Clearly, you can’t read between the lines. Let’s put it this way, okay? The comfort portal has already opened its door due to a mystical command, so now sarcasm feels free to snap away. Get it?”
“For the record, I would rather fantasize myself with someone who’s got a nice personality, and you’ll never be a suitable candidate. At all.” Oh, yes. There she is, tossing in bed, falling asleep, with a captivating, innocent smile on her face. And there she is… SHUT UP…!!! Just… “Did you hear that?”
“Loud and clear,” she says, deviously smiling.
Great. She can hear my thoughts loudly now. I’m so done. “What did I just say?” I’m milkshake. That’s what I am. A slimy, disgusting milkshake as I stand before my landlady… (Well, technically, she is my landlady…)… who I highly regard with contempt… and yet… She… Ugh… Goddammit!
“What you said was…” she says, “whatever it was that you didn’t loudly fire off at me…”
“So you mean… I said something to you that I didn’t literally say…”
“That only you could keep in your playful and petrified mind.”
“So you’re saying that you don’t believe everything that I say at all.”
“Then what’s the point of me opening my mouth and damaging my throat over our arguments if you can’t trust a word that flies out of my energy anyway?”
“How dare you!” A joshing little wench! “So what are the other rules that I must endure for the time being?” I need to smack away from the whimsical clash.
“That’s it,” she says.
“Just that. You. In the…”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Nope. Dead serious.”
“You’re homophobic, aren’t you?”
“Honey, if I were, then you wouldn’t have been here by now. And if you must know, I go to gay pride parade every year. Have you ever gone yourself?”
“I’m looking forward to it next year though.”
“So you haven’t gone at all? Not even once?”
“I’m always working,” I reason.
She titters. “Let me guess. Closet case?”
My spines are about to break. “Shut up.”
“Wait a minute. Is it one of the lamentable reasons why you’re here?”
I check the time on my wrist watch just to rush away from the hot topic. “Lunch. I’m craving for some Thai food. Is there any Thai restaurant around here?”
“It’s just about 30 footsteps away from our back door.” And she hurtles back to ‘me’. “Folks have been demanding for grand kids. Uptight yet very loving. Their sweet doll is scared to hurt them.”
What is she, psychic? Chills disturb my bones, and I drop my jaw, almost paralyzed. “Oh my God. What the hell are you?”
“So she broke up with you ‘cause she couldn’t stand going through more lies anymore,” she assumes. “I suppose you didn’t love her that much after all.”
“I did! Of course, I did!”
“Kaz, you’re a phony.”
“I beg your pardon?” Now I’m thrown into a tizzy.
“If you did love her,” she says, “then you should have had the courage to fight for your love and introduce her to your family as the only one that you could ever love, and the hell with the rest of the world.”
“Stop saying that!”
“Stop running away!”
“I’m not running away! I’m here to face a new life!”
“A new life is never gonna happen if you’re running away from something that means so much to you!”
“Are you telling me that I should go back to Grande Prairie just to drop the bombshell to my parents?”
“Yeah! Some time soon!”
“Nobody’s gonna love you the way that you hope to be loved ‘cause you’re a hypocrite.”
“Who are you to tell me that? You don’t know what it’s like to be gay, you tart!”
“My little sister is gay, so are some of my cousin, and some of the nicest people that I hang out with! Now you tell me I’m fricking naive about these things, but I hate to disappoint you, honey. I know a lot more than you do!”
“This is my life!” I must remind her of the truth. “And you are not my friend. Thank you for feeling sorry for my situation, but I am not here for you to be criticized, made fun of, and crudely judged. I can only dictate my life. Not my parents. Not even a therapist. Especially not you. Now will you excuse me, I’m gonna grab lunch myself.” And I make my grand exit, with the classic slamming of the door.
Shoot. Goddammit. Back door… Back door… Where are you…? Ah, there you are. Now I’m out of here!
And I see the light at the end of the tunnel. I step out of the apartment building… Oh my goodness. Thai restaurant. Almost 30 footsteps away from here… I turn to my right. Oh, God bless me! I see it! It’s just right across this small street from the apartment building’s parking lot.
And finally, I’m sitting in the restaurant, gobbling up my hot meal. Ah, I never thought I would appreciate a peaceful atmosphere this much. Thank goodness, it’s not that busy today though. Otherwise, chit-chat buzzes would drive me nuts and turn me into a criminal.
So now… since harmony has been consummately cooperating with me, I get to think of what my first book would be about. Uninspired, hide away to brainstorm. No, that would be cheating. I have to be inspired from A to Z in order to create something great.
Okay. Focus. Breathe in. Breathe out. Close your eyes and… OPEN THEM RIGHT AWAY! Goddammit. I see her. Try it hard one more time. Close your eyes, and… Shoot. She’s still there. You can’t fantasize about her too long. Just open your eyes now, damn it! And deal with her.
And… “In my 23 years of existence, I have never had any nightmares at all… Until now… What do you want this time? More intense blowups?”
Yes, and she even has the nerve to sit across my table, flashing her shrewd smile. “You forgot the most important thing.” She places a set of keys next to my plate. “The big one is for the building entrance. The regular-sized is for our suite. And the small thing is for the laundry room.”
Right. The keys. Idiot. I can’t even spell the ‘I’ word anymore. Jesus, where did my brains go? “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” And she…
Dear God. Please don’t smile at me like that. I’m about to vomit. Not because you’ve just poisoned me. It’s more like, I’m into you and I can’t have you. “What now?” I must go back to myself in an instant in the name of… ‘consistency’. “Why are you smiling at me like that for?”
“Let me tell you what I do,” she says. “I’m managing a bookstore close by, and we’re hiring right now. Would you be interested?”
Bookstore! My God. The cosmic forces have been totally against my will since I met this person. Yes, I would love to work at a bookstore, of course. Yes! Absolutely! No doubt about it! But… hang on there, sweetheart. “That’s thoughtful of you. Do you still need my resume?” Hmm…
“Give it to me tomorrow morning,” she says. “10 o’clock. It’s only 5 blocks down from here.”
“Why can’t I hand it over to you at home instead?”
“You walk in there like any other normal applicants would, and then I’m gonna interview you.”
“Does everyone have to know I’m your roommate?”
“Who cares. They’re gonna find out eventually anyway.”
“Does that mean I’ve already got the job?”
“If you got the goods, then you’re hired for sure.”
“Of course, I got the goods. I’ve always been a voracious reader since ‘Hansel and Gretel’ time. I self-studied classic and modern literature, so I know every literary giant out there, so you got this good.”
“Well, we’ll see. Just show me the goods at the interview then.”
“But even if I weren’t that good, would you still hire me though since you’re my roommate?” Yup. Self-doubt just crawls right in… inescapably.
“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t hire people just because they’re either family members, close friends, or roommates. I have integrity, honey, and I don’t jive along with commerce bull. That kind of attribute is exactly the reason why some businesses go bankrupt. Blood or blood by hangouts and laughter does not make one automatically qualify for a position. It is the sweat that makes it. Real sweat. And that’s the only good.”
Damn. She’s good. I need to think this challenge over first before I send myself to an actual therapist, who would investigate my psychological drama, note it all down, and go on blowing it around her friends. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re in crisis,” she says. “When an opportunity knocks right through you, there’s no time to think about it anymore and just accept it at will.”
“So you’re saying that the job is already guaranteed.”
“Kaz, it’s a job opportunity. An opportunity. Just an opportunity until it becomes real. You understand me?”
“So there’s still a possibility of me not getting it anyhow.”
“Yes. But I’m presenting you an opportunity for you to grab. If it wouldn’t work out, then you gotta look for another one.”
“Jane, I’ll pass. Thank you for the ‘wonderful opportunity’ though, but I can’t take it.”
“And why not?”
“Because, God forbid, we can’t see each other all the time and act like toddlers with Plato’s I.Q.! I’d hang myself to death in no time around here, and then you’d call my parents and out me to them.”
“You’re the only one who’s been making things complicated for us both to get along!”
“You take that back right now!” I protest.
“Have something to fight for. Something that means to you. Not strike back with defenses. Now feel and think the difference.” She rises and sighs. “I gotta go see my friend for lunch. Call me if you’ve got some questions. See you at home later.” And she leaves.
This chick is engulfing my brains. She’s only 28, and yet she knows how the rhythm of life works. In music, she can memorize every note of a masterpiece. In symphony or orchestra, she can easily determine which instrument plays certain notes. And she can tell you how the ending sounds like.
I’m really whacked up. Because even if we were to become friends, only miracles could make her feel the same way for me.
I need even just one tiny miracle to work on my side.
What must I do?