One little white lie...

12:15pm
I hate lying. I really, really hate it. No matter how careful I am in constructing said lie, it always somehow finds a way of biting me in the butt. And now I am in the middle of a big one which has already bitten me several times this week. Thankfully, it will be over in less than an hour, because at 1:00pm, I am meeting my ex-roommate to give her the apartment keys back and retrieve from her a precious copy of my passport. And then I will never have to see her again, because I will be in Alcalá de Henares. Or so she thinks. Let me explain…

It all started about two weeks ago on one lovely Monday morning, when I fatefully decided to get up early and take a shower before my roommate awoke. I tip-toed out of my bedroom into the living room (where strangely enough, my roommate sleeps). And there he was. Some guy in bed with her. Awkward! Oh well, what could I do? I took a shower, tip-toed back into my room, and began to get ready for the day. I heard some bustling in the living room while I was getting ready, and when I came back out of my room to fix a bowl of cereal, here came the demon-woman. She started chastising me in Spanish (which is our common language), and it was all coming out so fast, that I didn’t understand what she was mad about. I assumed it was because she didn’t know I had planned to shower in the morning. And who knows what she was really mad about? I personally think she was embarrassed that I had seen her in bed with her guy, after she had explicitly told me that sleepovers were not allowed, which was perfectly fine with me, of course. The reason for her being mad at me all goes a bit hazy from here. All I know is that I got fussed at several times, even though I was trying my best to stay out of her way, and let her have free use of all the common facilities while she was home. I showered and cooked while she was gone to work, and stayed in my room while she was there. I was neat as a pin, never left dishes in the sink or the bathroom floor wet, and was super-quiet too. So how could there be a problem? Still, apparently I was doing the exact opposite of everything she told me to do. Needless to say, it turned into a very uncomfortable situation. After being down in the dumps for about a week straight, I finally decided to give in to the coaxing of my friends and family, and tell her I was moving.

Here’s where my big fat lie comes in. I wanted to spare her feelings and try to limit the amount of drama that was undoubtedly coming, so instead of telling her that I was moving because she was a psychopath, I told her I had received a wonderful job offer in a little town just east of Madrid called Alcalá de Henares. The commute would be too much for me to continue living in Madrid, so I had to move on account of location. Well, the fact that I didn’t deserve it aside, there was no “congratulations on your new job!” or “this leaves me without a roommate but we’ll work it out.” No, all I got was about 20 minutes worth of the J-word (equivalent to the F-word in English) in all its various forms. I offered to advertise the apartment online and show it when she didn’t have time, but that was futile. I finally just got up, walked into my room, closed the door, and started packing. I called my friend Megan who graciously offered to let me stay with her for a few days until I found a new place. I have been with Megan now for four nights, and I also spent one night with another good friend named Biz. They are both unbelievable people who have fed me, given me a place to sleep and shower, and Megan has even clothed me. Even though I have been homeless the past week, I have wanted for nothing. Even the fact that my things are now spread over three different apartments for storage hasn’t been such a problem. I am incredibly blessed to have met such wonderful people.

This morning, my lie got sticky. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone ringing and with a heavy heart, I knew immediately who it was. Good old roomie-of-the-year calling to badger me some more. I did still have her keys, which I was holding ransom for the return of the copy of my passport that she had. But I had already told her that I was going to be in Alcalá this weekend in order to move into my new apartment, get situated, and that I was going to call her at the beginning of the week. She jumped the gun, though, and told me she was coming to Alcalá this afternoon to meet me and get the keys. However, I was not in Alcalá. I was lying on Megan’s trundle bed about 30 minutes away from the center of Madrid. I did a bit of panicking, and then decided that, no, I wasn’t going to run to Alcalá just to cover up my lie. I was going to make her meet me in Madrid somewhere, by telling her that I was in town for the afternoon in order to pick up some stuff from a friend’s house. She finally consented to meet me at the Puerta del Sol, though she didn’t want to meet at the fountain because she said she didn’t know where it was. I mean, COME ON! It’s smack in the middle of the Puerta del Sol! She has lived here for 5 years and doesn’t know where the fountain is? I didn’t buy that. Then I realized that she is the type of person who has to maintain some control over every situation that she is in. So she suggested meeting near the bear statue (about 20 feet away from the fountain) and I was like, “Yeah, that’s fine. Whatever.” So at 1:00pm, that’s where we’re meeting. I will collect my posse at the fountain and we’ll walk 20 feet to face my evil roommate and whatever backup she has decided to bring. I’ll update after it all goes down.

5:00pm
It’s over! It’s finally over! I am so glad I will never have to see that meanie-head again. Everything happened as planned. We met, made the exchange, and then she high-tailed it out of there, probably intimidated by my group of girls with “just try us” looks on their faces. It was not a big deal, and I was kinda disappointed that I didn’t have the opportunity to tell her off. But at least it’s all over. She has her keys and I have my passport copy. She still has my deposit, but there’s no way in hell or on earth that she would ever give that back to me, even though I didn’t do any harm whatsoever to the apartment. Oh well. Chalk it up to a 180€ life lesson. And my last lie for a long, long (long, long, long) time.