“Come on, Oni. Your twenties are for fun and excitement. Please, hangout with us.” Rebecca removed her towel to reveal she was now a redhead.
I should have known that housing via Canada’s Craigslist was going to be sketchy AF. I agreed to the five-month lease knowing that the apartment under construction. I’d agreed to share the unit with housemates periodically. What I didn’t agree to was exclusively using the garage entrance because the “landlord” wanted me to avoid the doorman. Seriously, did he own this apartment, or nah? Most importantly, I didn’t agree to live with mysterious eastern Europeans who – from what I could tell – could be on the run from the law.
Hear me out. When Rebecca and Roberto moved in, she was all chatty and he was all monosyllable responses. Being the friendly island gyal that I was, I entertained Rebecca's desire for light chit chat. She asked me my entire life story. Not wanting to be a conversation hog, I asked, “why are you in Canada?” Before homegirl could speak, Roberto (possibly an Ike Turner in training) responds, “Business.” I wait for elaboration. He doesn’t divulge. She sits there with her hands on her lap.
I put my Law and Order SVU thinking cap on and began assessing the situation. Y’all on business but you don’t stay in a hotel and you don’t have any luggage? He ain’t speaking and she’s moving like she’s tied to an invisible leash. Sex trafficking? Drug trafficking? Frankly, I’m not too pressed uncover the truth.
Oh, look at that! I hit ‘em with a yawn and a stretch. It’s after nine o’clock. I should probably get to bed before I get murdered for knowing too much information.
The next morning, Rebecca catches me in the common area and invites me to spend the day with them. If y’all came for business, why are y’all trying to spend the entire day with me? Invite declined! Look, I didn’t want to get caught in some Jewish Romanian couple’s sexy threesome. All I wanted was to mind my bidness, clock my hours at my internship, and binge watch Netflix.
When I got home, Rebecca had red hair and was determined to wedge me between her and her husband. Sensing my apprehension, Roberto decided to grant me access to their previously classified personal information. Yes, they wanted to be a threesome, but not a sexual one. As Romanian Jews, they had a special religious wedding ceremony that required plenty of hoop-jumping to undo. Good Guy Greg found someone in Canada who could give them a quick divorce.
Knowing the truth made me relax and more willing to spend time with them. I was really trying to avoid stereotypes, but dirt-cheap housing on Craigslist for a college coed, garage door entrances, and a mysterious woman with a Romanian accent had my mind screaming PORN! PORN! YOU’RE GOING TO BE CAUGHT IN A PORNO!
Thankfully not!
My new Romanian friends took me out to the park and bought me a lovely Canadian meal. It was pleasantly PG. Shout out to all the people going through civil divorces.
Created on St. Maarten. Based in Chicago. Onicia Muller (@OniciaMuller) writes, says funny things, and enjoys hanging with creative minds. Originally published in The Daily Herald's Weekender, Just Being Funny is a weekly reflection where Onicia laughs at life.