The Oxygen in My Lungs

Chapter 17

"Absolutely not," my mom said. I called them to tell them about Roman, and as expected, they did not approve. "You just met him. What if things go sideways and you are still stuck with each other?"

I told her he could always go back to his old place. It's basically just having a new roommate. No big deal. Not to mention, he was the kid that saved me. None of that convinced her, but that's not my problem. The benefit of moving out is not having to listen to them.

I mean she isn't entirely wrong. What if we did all this to just end up hating each other? Couldn't we just be adults and move on though? I don't won't everyone in my family looking at me differently, like they don't recognize me. I'm starting to get that feeling a lot more as I send them pictures of food I made and clothes I bought.

Roman's response, "Who's life are you living? Yours or theirs? To be honest, they'll be gone one day, and you need to be able to look back, happy at what you've done."

Easy for him to say. He moved out at 18. I only just started making my own payments a couple of months ago.

"Do YOU want me to move in or not?" he asked. I guess that is the only question that needs answered.

"I do."

"Then let's get packing."

The first week went well aside from a few concerns raised by the both of us.

"We need to set some ground rules," Roman said, dipping his hair in the sink to get it ready for the day.

"Agreed." I stood by the bathroom door.

"First order of business: chores." Roman was not a fan of my cleaning skills, or lack thereof. He shares his mom's knack for detail with his OCD for cleanliness. Actually, he wasn't a fan of my cooking skills, my etiquette, my hygiene, my nails etc. The list goes on, and yet, he still stayed.

"I might make a fine wife out of you," he joked, looking down at the breakfast I made and set up out on the balcony. For Roman, I made a potato skillet with scrambled eggs, bacon, peppers, and cheddar cheese. Of course, that needed to be paired with hot black tea. For myself, I made an iced matcha tea and avocado toast with bacon bits and an egg over easy.

I am trying. I know I lack a lot of basic skills, but I'm trying my best. For him, I want to be better.

*

At night, we knocked the chemistry out of the park.

"Roman!" I yelled, out of breath.

We both had nightly energy bursts where we would chase each other around the apartment. This is when my relationship with the neighbor went a bit haywire.

The next day we got a knock on the door. I hid off in the kitchen while Roman dealt with my downstairs neighbor complaining about our late-night activities, and I don't mean the running around.

"My son lives right below you... I can't believe you are so loud...I'll call the cops."

Roman just nodded the entire time then shut the door in her face.

"What if she calls the cops?"

"Then I'll get to live my dream of spending a night in jail."

She didn't call the cops, but she would bang a broom on the ceiling.

One time she came up when Roman's family was visiting. We could hear them talking outside the door.

"My son complains about the howling he can here at night." Believe me when I say I was embarrassed. Like Roman, his mom had no problem making a joke out of it.