La Vie Et La Danse

I hadn’t decided whether to take a roommate into my apartment, but when a newish friend, Goldilocks (her hair is bleached, so this moniker is accurate in more ways than one), asked if she could move in with me, I went ahead and said, “Sure.”
While I won’t dwell on the fact that she hasn’t paid her (discounted!) share of the rent on the mutually agreed upon date, although she has gone on a shopping spree, had a costume made, and paid her outstanding bills at the hairdresser, the car service, and her mom’s house, I would like to mention another of the more severe trespasses she has committed against Little Bear (me).
I spent two nights out of the city with family, and when I returned, during a casual conversation about the satin sheets I’d received as a housewarming gift, she complained that, yes, my sheets were really slippery!
An alarm went off in my head as I wondered how the hell she knew my sheets were so slippery. I knew her boyfriend had been there while I was gone, and I’ve got a double bed–Goldilocks only has a single, but I didn’t want to imagine my new roomie was entertaining in my bed. I tried to tell myself that she, after rummaging through my costume closet (yes! she borrows my expensive costumes as well as my socks), must have gotten fatigued, sat down on my bed, and slid off.

Last week, I left the city again to look after my friend’s daughter for the afternoon, and I stayed the night in the suburbs. When I returned, it was clear that in my absence, her boyfriend had been to visit, as the dishwasher was full of dishes and utensils from the dinner they’d prepared using my groceries, and the foul smell of cigarette smoke that was emanating from my roommate’s bedroom. Neither of us smokes, and I’ve asked her boyfriend not to smoke in the house either, but hey, I wasn’t there. Upon entering my own bedroom, I noticed my curtains had been closed. I always leave them open when I’m away, so my plants will receive sunlight. Puzzling. I also noticed my sheets looked a little mussed, though I was pretty sure I’d left the bed neat. I searched the bed for clues and I noticed a heat- and color-damaged strand of blond hair, but the real giveaway was when I went to plug in my phone charger. The outlet was occupied by the hall nightlight. It’s a soft red color–how romantic.