The Indigo Girls record finished a long while ago. The turntable is still running, scratching as it turns. No one’s gotten up to flip the record. No one wants to acknowledge that time is passing. That soon, the sun will rise and their last night will be over.
The graduation caps remain stacked by the front door, forgotten after the ceremony, ignored by girls with more important things to focus on. Dirty dishes lay scattered across the little kitchen table, the last remnants from the fridge long since scraped off chipped dollar store dishes. An empty wine bottle or two on the kitchen counter. The window cracked to let in the cool night air.
The three girls sit on the kitchen floor, leaning against cabinets or each other, wine glasses in hand, belly laughing over some already forgotten joke. Riley’s diamond ring shines under the florescents, drawing everyone’s eyes back to it every few minutes, lest someone has forgotten. Taylor ignores the knot in her stomach growing by the minute as she inches closer and closer to grad school. Another three years of tuition payments. Another three years until she has to admit she doesn’t know what she wants out of life. Zoey leans on her shoulder, head bouncing as Taylor laughs. Tomorrow, she moves back in with her parents. For now. For now, for now. Zoey knows what she wants out of life. She knows she’ll get there. Someday, people will know her name. Tomorrow, she needs to find a job.
Taylor picks up a piece of confetti on the floor next to her. As Riley talks about floral arrangements and venues and the pipe dream of a custom wedding gown, Taylor rips the confetti in half. And in half. And in half. When the little pieces of paper are too small to rip anymore, she drops them on the floor and picks up another one. Zoey watches her. Transfixed. Palms pressed into the cold tile on either side of her body, completely still. Riley is still talking.
As the seconds and minutes and hours tick away, the three girls inch closer and closer together. Zoey, head still resting on Taylor’s shoulder, links their arms together, hugging Taylor’s to her chest. Riley has shifted toward the pair, laying her head on Taylor’s lap, looking up at them as they talk. She laughs. Pulls out her phone to take a picture from the unflattering angle. Everyone giggles. Riley sends it to the group chat, tries not to think about what they might change the name to. Tries not to wonder how long it will take, when ‘The Roomies’ won’t make sense anymore. She puts her phone back in her pocket.
They’re all pulled apart when Taylor gets up to turn off the record player. She can’t take the scratching anymore. On her way to the living room, she has to walk past the wall clock she insisted on buying when they all moved in. It sits on the top of an open moving box, batteries still pushing the hands onward, onward. Taylor closes her eyes as she walks past it and hopes the others don’t notice.
Back in the kitchen, Zoey’s broken out a box of crackers – the last food they have left in the apartment. She passes a sleeve to Riley, offers up another one to Taylor as she turns the corner around the kitchen counter. Taylor accepts it, resumes her place on the floor, finishes off her wine. Their last meal in the apartment. Their last meal before real life. They eat together in comfortable silence.
The sunrise bathes the kitchen in warm orange sunlight. They stay for a moment longer, wring each moment out of the morning together. Slowly, they rise. Wash and dry the dishes from dinner, wrap them in paper towels and place them in the box beside the ticking clock. Slowly, slowly, they get ready for the day as the world comes to life around them. Slowly, slowly, they check their phones as the notifications press in on them from all sides. Zoey’s parents let her know they’re on their way to get her. Riley’s fiance sends her a budget spreadsheet, asks about getting breakfast. Taylor’s phone lights up with traffic predictions — extra traffic on the freeway she takes to work.
Their bags are in front of the door.
Down the stairs.
Packed into car trunks.
The women hug. Break apart. Drive away.
As Taylor turns onto the freeway, a notification pops up: The Roomies.