Stress Test

By Kate Dockeray

Sara Malloy lives an average life in an average neighborhood. Her quiet, content life is interrupted when she allows a friend of a friend to rent a room. Her well meaning favor backfires when she realizes she's got the roommate from Hell. Her luck goes from bad to worse when the lunatic ex of her recently reunited boyfriend suddenly resurfaces. The pressure mounts as she endures betrayal from the man she thinks she loves as her neat little life comes unfolded piece by piece. Experience hilarity and heartbreak as you follow Sara from one extreme to the next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kate Dockeray
• Release date: Mar 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458162960

Kate Dockeray

I've been writing on an off for 20 years, seriously for 10. Writing is always something I come back to, to escape into an alternate reality. After three long years, I finally published my first book electronically, and have just started work on the second one.

Book preview

Stress Test

By Kate Dockeray

Copyright 2011 Kate Dockeray

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For Mom, Dad, Michael, and Jason,

who always encouraged me to keep going.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Contents

Part I: Margot

Part II: Thora

Part III: Markus

Part IV: Sylvia

PART I: MARGOT:

1.

Margot was the girl that most people pretended to like. It’s not that she was a bad person, she didn’t kill people or small animals for fun or anything, but she did manage to bring out the homicidal maniac in some people, namely myself. She was your typical uppity looking broad, bottle blonde, spray tanned, blue eyes, average height, and perfect weight from endless hours of working out at the gym, doing Pilates or whatever it is women do these days. Margot, in small doses was fine. However, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into the day I agreed to let her come live with me. Margot was a friend of a friend, someone I knew mostly as an acquaintance, but I thought to myself, I could really use the extra money.

She had been living a cozy little life with her husband in a quiet little suburb when one day, she came home from her monotonous job to discover her perfect husband nailing the housekeeper. Of course, who could blame him? The housekeeper was a striking little Spanish girl with large eyes and large… well, you know. To say Margot was devastated would be an understatement.

I, on the other hand had been living a fantastic life before she came along. I had been living in my comfortable little Bungalow, also in the burbs for about a year, and had just finally gotten around to filling in gouges in the walls, and repainting practically the entire house. I was a single gal, living blissfully with my little dog Riley in my perfect little paradise. Of course, the economy being as it were, I began to fall short on cash, even though I was working full time as a columnist.

Sheri, my best friend had mentioned that one of her other girlfriends had fallen on some hard luck and needed a place to stay for a while, and of course, she would pay rent. Good ol’ Sheri didn’t really tell me how deplorable little Miss Margot would end up being, perhaps she just saw a different side of her which I never got to see. Therefore, despite loving my single, mostly introverted life, I agreed to let Margot rent a room from me for a while until she got back on her feet.

THE FIRST WEEK:

2.

Move in day. Just imagine, freshly painted walls, so fresh you can still smell the primer, all the little dents and scratches safely hidden with fill in putty. Just think of all the work that goes in to preparing, priming, and painting. Think of the sense of satisfaction you feel once you view the finished product, when it turned out so much better than you ever thought it could be. Everything was fresh, even the front door that took what seemed like dozens of coats of paint to cover.

Let me describe briefly how gorgeous I made this house look, just so you can maybe feel a little bit of what I felt on this day. Initially, when I bought the place, it was a filthy dump. A questionable, sticky residue covered the walls along with the dank yellow film that cigarette smoke will leave behind. There were stains on the floors that I didn’t even want to imagine what their source was, a family of raccoons had burrowed in through a broken window in the basement and made this vacant house their home, leaving their droppings in the wake. It was quite a steal, nonetheless. The décor was hideous, and everything needed a little personalization eventually. There were holes and gigantic gouges covering the walls, grease, dirt, and oil ground into the floor and countertops in the kitchen. It was quite a project, but I had the mindset that I was going to do this on my own.

The first task I tackled was cleaning, sanding, and refinishing the hardwood floors. I was convinced that some of those stains I sopped up may have been blood, but then again, I am no forensic scientist. I then ripped out the skuzzy linoleum in the kitchen, threw that out and replaced it with a respectable looking laminate. I had then worked my way through the entire house, filling holes and gouges with putty, which then needed to be sanded. Room by room, I slapped primer on every single wall and ended up living with semi-white walls throughout for a while. Eventually I got around to painting each room, a warm, comforting color. Of course, I left the crown molding white because… you just cannot go wrong with white.

This place had finally become home. It now looks like a mix of modern style, with a little old style décor. In my opinion anyway, it was breathtaking.

Standing at the front door that morning, I see a moving van trolling down the street. I figure that has to be Margot. As it approaches, I notice what looks like three other people in the van. They pull sharply into the driveway and kill the engine. The skinny little blonde dressed as though she were 21 and going to the club, jumps out of the passenger seat and practically skips up the walkway to meet me.

Hey, you must be Sara. I’m Margot your new roomie! She said this much too enthusiastically.

Uh yeah, Margot, nice to meet you. Sheri told me a little bit about you over the phone.

I was wondering at this point if it would be in poor taste to bring up her failed marriage. I decided against it. After all, you only get one chance to make a first impression right?

She stood grinning at me, twirling her long hair around her index finger. Yeah, she told me a little bit about you too, enough to make me feel comfortable enough to crash with you for a while. Although, I do have one question…

Oh, sure, what’s that? I ask.

You’re not like, some crazy psycho murderer are you? I’m not going to have to put deadbolts on my door or anything am I?

Was she serious with this?

Umm… No Margot, I’m definitely not a murderer, you won’t have to worry about me.

A bit cynical and sarcastic, but no murderer, I thought to myself.

Great! Then we’re roomies! She grabbed my hand with hers and shook it quickly.

She stood gazing at me for a moment, contemplating.

You’re kind of pale, you should go tanning or something. She spun around and headed back to the truck. She and her friends walked around to the back of the truck and started to unload her bed. I took one look at it and shuddered. I mean come on, who needs a bed this big? She is just one person, and since she is newly single, what was she possibly going to do with a bed that size? I know, that’s cruel to say, but I’m pretty sure she is not going to jumping back into that thing with anyone anytime soon. They are definitely going to bang up my walls with that thing. I say to myself. I open the door and step aside shielding my eyes from what I know is going to become the first gouge right at the front door. Sure enough, crack! Right in to the wall, the wall that I just filled in from what I can only guess was a previous moving in endeavor. Son of a bitch! There’s another weekend project that I’ll have to put on my schedule.

Oh sorry! I’ll help you fix that. She giggles.

I feel my blood pressure rising.

Oh, no, don’t worry about it, I can do it myself. I try to say this in a nice tone, but it still sounds mildly bitchy. They continue throughout the house carefully maneuvering the headboard, but still managing to bump in to every single corner and turn possible. Every time I heard it, my asshole clenched, following behind them scoping out every chunk missing that I’ll need to repair, all that filling in, sanding, and repainting. This is going to suck. Then the worst of it occurs, they drop this hideous headboard on my newly refinished floors, old antique wood with a cherry finish, almost the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. However, they don’t stop there, they then proceed to push the headboard along the floor until they reach the wall.

In a high-pitched voice I say, What are you guys doing? I literally just refinished these floors and you’re running the bed along them? Come on!

Oh no, don’t worry about it sweetie, a little lemon Pledge and some elbow grease will take that right out.

This statement seems a little beyond comprehension on my part, Lemon Pledge? That’s not going to do a damn thing.

Look, just please be more careful okay? I just redecorated and refinished these floors, I‘d like to keep the place looking nice, for both of our sakes.

No worries lady, be cool. This coming from her stoner friend with the dreads and baggy pants who still smelled like pot.

I roll my eyes at both of them and walk away. I decide now is the perfect time to light up. I stepped out on the back deck with a menthol, really the only kind to smoke, at least in my opinion. I pull my favorite blue lighter out of my pocket and raise it to this amazing little cancer stick. The first puff in this instance is amazing. What have I gotten myself into? I ask myself. I love living alone, I love having my quiet time, why am I doing this? Yes, I talk to myself, in case you were wondering. The extra dollar signs happen to flash into my mind as I’m asking myself why I’m doing this. Everything will be okay, I think to myself. This is only temporary, she will only be here long enough to get back on her feet, then she can get her own place, and I’ll have my house back. I shudder to think what my house will look like after they’re through moving her stuff in.

I decide not to help them bring things in, it will only raise my anxiety level and put me in a bad mood. Besides, she has her little buddies here to help her bring everything in, and probably thrash the place in the process. I head inside, upstairs to my office where I find Riley, my little Chihuahua hiding under my desk. I approach him with his ears pinned back and his sad little eyes.

I know pal, this is a stressful situation I‘ve put us in, but it’s only temporary. I promise, soon enough it will be just you and me again. That’s right, I talk to my dog too.

Tell you what pal, if you piss in her shoes, I’ll give you an extra biscuit. Of course, he perks right up when he hears biscuit, now I have to give him one. I pull one out of the small jar on the desk. Yes, I keep dog biscuits on my desk as well. They’re amazing when you’re trying to quit smoking. Riley sits up on his back legs like a little gentleman patiently waiting for me to hand him the biscuit. He gingerly takes it from my hand. I pat him on the head and after he gobbles it up, he sits and waits for another.

Come on pal, I don’t want you to be a huffamoose, can’t you be satisfied with just one? He barks at me. I guess this means no. Sorry, that’s all you’re getting.

I plop down in my chair staring at the wave of sticky notes strewn all over my desk and walls. All I can hear is the profuse banging of furniture against my walls and scraping against my floors, giggles ensuing. It’s only the first day and already I feel like I may have a coronary. How am I supposed to last until she finds another place to live? Riley jumps up into my lap, licking my fingers, trying to devour every last crumb from his biscuit. He does a little spin and falls into my lap, seemingly content. I scratch his ears, close my eyes and take a deep breath. I then lean over and stare at the plethora of shit on my desk. I really need to be more organized. Endless research scattered on the desktop, filed in a cardboard box next to my desk. I really should invest in a filing cabinet. I have a column looming its deadline and yet, I have an empty canvas, I haven’t even started. I don’t know that I’ll get any work done today, at least not if I stay here.

I decide to pack up my laptop and head over to the coffee shop down the street. Riley looks disappointed that I’m leaving him here, but he’ll get over it as soon as I walk back in the door. I slowly creep down the stairs seriously dreading what I might see. My eyes become wide as I see her things strewn all over my front room. And she… she is in my kitchen, eating the takeout that I brought home last night, the takeout that I was really looking forward to this evening, the takeout that actually tastes better the second day.

What are you doing?

Oh, I was hungry after all that moving, so I decided to take a break. I didn’t have any money to buy any food, and I saw this in the fridge and it looked good, so I thought since we’re roomies now, you wouldn’t mind.

Well, I do mind actually, do you think you could ask first next time before you just take something?

Well, sure I guess, no problem.

Yeah well, I’m heading out for a while, I need to get some work done. Your key is on the table near the door. I hope when I get back you’ll have the rest of your things out of the front room.

Well, I’m kind of tired, I don’t think I want to do anymore today.

I sigh heavily, guessing that she did maybe two hours of actual moving in. Look, could you at least try? I don’t want to have a huge mess in here when I get home.

Yeah, I’ll try to get it all in my room today.

Thanks.

I turn around and head towards the door, shuffling through her sea of shit. I’m amazed to see that she’s already taken her clothes out of the garbage bags she brought them in with, and I can’t help but notice her day-glo thongs strewn all over my cherry wood floors. What sort of grown woman still wears day-glo?

3.

I arrive at the coffee shop relieved that I won’t have to hear her shrill voice for a few hours. Perhaps I’ll actually get a little work done, and Gary, my editor will finally get off my case. I grab a seat in a yuppie free corner eyeing the little teenage bitch behind the counter who is giving me the stink eye because she thinks I’m not going to order anything. She was new, part-time help from the looks of it. I meander over and ask for just a regular black coffee, but of course, it has a certain house flavor.

Yeah, that’s fine. I say, handing over the buck seventy-five it costs for a simple cup of Joe.

I head back to my corner and take my seat. I open up my laptop and stare at the blank white screen. Damn! I wish I had some inspiration. I lean back and close my eyes, hands wrapped around my other vice.

Hours go by and my screen is still blank, my mind is still blank. This writer’s block really is a bitch. Just as I’m getting ready to leave, Markus walks in. Markus is the guy I was in love with almost a decade ago but disappeared into thin air for seemingly no reason whatsoever. I don’t know that I’m pleased to see him, but I don’t know that I’m unhappy to see him either. Of course, he walks directly over to me, smiling that painstakingly gorgeous smile, the one that makes me forget the day I never heard from him again.

Hello gorgeous, how long has it been since we’ve seen each other?

What a creep! I think to myself. How can he just saunter in and act as if nothing happened?

Hi Markus, it’s been… well it’s been nearly a decade.

Really? No, it can’t be that long. Seems like just yesterday I saw you, you look just the same.

I scoff. Well, how have you been? I ask, dreading the answer.

Well, I got married a few years back.

Oh.

However, I’m actually going through a divorce right now.

Oh, that’s too bad. I say, not really feeling bad at all, serves him right.

It’s my fault really, I should have known better than to marry a money grubbing little trollop who always needed to know how much was in my bank account before she went shopping.

I laugh. Well, you always did know how to pick them. How about you baby? I don’t see a ring on your finger, have you ever taken the plunge?

Laughing quietly, I respond, Absolutely not. I haven’t really found anyone I wanted to marry. I’ve just been working and dating here and there.

He grins at me. Well, perhaps you’ll let me take you out for dinner this week so we can catch up.

Oh great, this is exactly what I didn’t want. Well, I don’t know, I’m pretty busy this week, I’ve got a deadline, and I just had someone move in with me, so I have to deal with that. Really? I thought you just said you were single?

Oh no, it‘s nothing like that, it‘s just a temporary female roomie, a friend of a friend sort of thing.

He seemed to be mulling this over, more than likely thinking thoughts that most males might when they imagine two females living together.

Oh well, that’s good news for me then. How about I call you in a few days to see if your schedule has cleared up? Do you still have the same number?

I didn’t even lie. Yes, I do, but don’t get your hopes up, I don’t know that I’ll be able to fit you in.

Well doll, what exactly do you do for a living that’s keeping you so busy? He asked.

I’m a columnist at a local magazine.

Oh, Sara, you’re awful cryptic, which one?

Shout. I stood, and began piling my notebook and laptop into my bag.

Smiling at me again, I think you just might find the time. Well, I really should get back, it was good seeing you again. I say, not sure if I meant it.

"You too kiddo,