The Gay Gandhi

The roommate and I have this saying, “Call in the time of need. Text for anything else.” And we told this to our classmates who don’t really understand the saying. They call when they needs ride to the store, they text when they have a problem with homework. Three days ago, the roommate and I were sitting in the living room, she was starting Hemlock Grove, I was finishing United States of Tara when her cell phone rang. Mind you its like eight and our bedtime is strictly at eleven.

“Hey, what’s going on? Is everything okay?” the roommate says.

“I can’t understand you, do you want to come over? I could make you some food?” the roommate says as she looks over at me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“That was A…something wrong. She was crying.”

As we waited for A to come over and tell us what happened, I thought about the things that could’ve happened. Her ex-boyfriend, who she lives with, maybe hit her? Maybe he’s seeing someone else. Maybe A hit him? I forgot to mention that A’s ex-boyfriend is Mystery.

It was only when the knock at the door came that my mind stop wondering what happened. As soon as A walked in, her eyes red and puffy, her hair undone and bits of crumbs stuck to her clothes, she grabbed onto the roommate and brought her in for a hug.

“Sweetie? What’s wrong?” the roommate asked, leading A over to the couch.

“My house…in New Jersey…it caught…on fire,” A started but was interrupted by tears.

“And my mom…my mom…”

I looked at the roommate already knowing the answer.

“She was trapped and…didn’t make it,” A’s tears overtook her. She reached out for me and held onto me, crying into my shoulder. I patted her back. I wanted to whisper, “its okay” but I wondered if it would be.

“Go ahead and cry it out sweetie. Everyone cries, its okay,” I told her. I looked at the roommate, unsure of what to do. Or say.

A’s tears started getting heavier and the roommate stepped into the kitchen.

“Did you eat anything? Want me to make something for you?”

A looked up and I brushed her tears away, asking first if it was okay if I did that because even in this circumstance, it would be creepy. 

“I had some pie. And some cake,” A answered back.

“Good. Nice and healthy.”

A laughed and I knew she was going to be okay…with time.

That night, after the dinner the roommate made, I walked A home.

“Joe, I know I can always come to you, you’re like a giant teddy bear. What am I going to do when you leave?” she asked, as we hugged and she stepped inside her apartment. On the way back I wondered why people always come to me. This isn’t the first time I had a friend come to me in when they were in trouble. I asked this question to the roommate as soon as I walked in.

“I’m not sure. Maybe its like we're the patron saints of creative writing or something.”

“So you can be Mother Teresa and I can be Gandhi?” I asked.

“Yeah. But instead you’ll be the gay Gandhi and I’ll be the non Catholic Mother Teresa” she answered. 

That night, we went to bed at exactly, one-twenty five.