It was Mikay’s turn to take out the trash, and her forgetting is just enough reason for Sammy to cross her off of her best friends list.
By the end of their second year at uni, the bathroom was overdue for a good, thorough cleaning. The shower curtain had spots of yellowish, pinkish goo at the bottom. The one sink and counter looked more like a desk under all the crap that the two women had stacked. It was probably a severe fire hazard by now, what with the straightener and the hair dryer being shoved right in its porcelain bowl, but Mikay and Sammy never used the bathroom sink for any water-related activities anyway. They did their hand-washing and teeth-brushing in the kitchen sink. The bathroom one was turned into somewhat of a vanity and make-up table. Under the sink, their little plastic bin was already overflowing with dirty tissues and smelly sanitary pads rolled in scrap paper.
Despite the usually messy state of the bathroom, it was at least tolerable enough for some tequila-induced drama session. Sammy was such a good friend, so the last time Mikay was in a severe slump that warranted a rant-slash-informal therapy in the bathroom, she had scrubbed the floor, took out the trash, and even hung a lavender-scented air freshener on the doorknob. Now that she is the one needing the bathroom as her safe space, Mikay goes and forgets to do her chores.
Tequila is Sammy’s best friend right now at #1, and Mikay has fallen to rank #2008, right below her narcissistic mother and cheater ex-boyfriend. Okay, fine, maybe she is being mean and petty and unreasonable. But when she’s drunk, the world is cuckoo and everything either gets dark and twisty, or hot and porny. And right now, it’s the former. The horrid smell from the bin isn’t helping.
“He cheated on me! He fucking cheated on me!” Sammy wails for the 17th time tonight.
Mikay’s footsteps echo about their shared condo. The other woman calls out, “I know, I know, and I’m sorry! But what was I supposed to do? Say no to him?”
“You should’ve told him to shove it right in his — ”
“Okay, I get it! Quit yelling at me. But right now, Bob needs a place to stay, and tomorrow we can kick him out and find some other poor soul to deal with him. Now, do you want soup or not?”
Sammy simply groans out a non-committal reply. Let Mikay interpret that however she wants. Maybe she’d bring her soup anyway, and Sammy can slowly rouse herself up from this stupid state that she knows will guarantee one hell of a hangover tomorrow. Or maybe Mikay won’t bring her soup, and she’ll starve to death in this dirty, smelly bathroom. So Sammy lays herself down onto the cold bathroom tile and hugs the almost-empty bottle of tequila to her chest. “You’re my best friend, my only friend in this cold dark world,” she slurs at the bottle.
“Now you’re just being pathetic,” her roommate’s voice snarks from above her. Sammy forces one eye open to look at her not-best friend, and she sees Mikay holding a tiny bowl of soup.
“Go away! I don’t want your traitor-y pity soup. Leave me to die!”
“I’m not a traitor. And pity soup tastes the same as regular soup. Get up and drink this; you haven’t eaten in six hours.”
So with a sniff, the drunk woman forces herself up, reaching out one hand for anything that she could use to steady herself. Just her luck, she ends up grabbing the trash bin and pulls with all her weight. And instead of getting up, she crashes back down on the ground. She knocks the bin over, scattering dirty tissues and wrapped stinky sanitary pads all over her.
“Oh, tangina talaga naman!” Sammy wails. “He cheated on me, you betrayed me, and we got Bob in our stupid condo, and I’m drunk and an emotional disgusting mess smelling like piss and vajayjay blood!” She hugs the tequila bottle tighter.
Just when she thinks it couldn’t get any worse, Bob picks this moment to stroll into the bathroom to see what kind of damage this drunk mess was doing. When Sammy sees him, she sobs louder. Mikay sets the bowl of soup down on the sink counter, pushing aside some bottles of lotion and shampoo and a tray of makeup brushes. When she’s satisfied that the bowl won’t topple over, Mikay crouches down, and she brushes and kicks away the tissues and trash around Sammy and helps her best friend sit up. Bob sits opposite Sammy, just observing quietly, but judgemental nonetheless. Bob is an old scruffy fella by now, and despite his quietness, everyone always knows, or has an idea, of what he’s thinking. If he had any eyebrows at all, he’d sure be arching them in condescendence and pity.
“Stop looking at me like that!” Sammy snarls at him.
“He’s not, Sammy.”
“He sure is! Can’t even be grateful we let him stay the night. He should have stayed with Miguel, they deserve each other!”
“Bob has nothing to do with your beef with Miguel. Stop antagonising him. Drink your soup!”
“I don’t want your soup!”
“I don’t care if you don’t want my soup. You’re going to drink it because I can’t deal with you being like this in the morning. Drink it.”
“No! And you don’t have to deal with me if you don’t want to! You can just leave me, like how Miguel left me! Ganyan naman kayo lahat eh, mang-iiwan!”
“I’m not going to leave you. Wait…wasn’t it you who left him?”
“Yes! But that’s not the point, I wouldn’t have left him if he didn’t fucking cheat on me with that skank!”
“Skank? Really? Now that’s just plain rude.”
“Cheater. Traitor. Bastard. Liar. Red flag. Paasa. Bwiset. Tangin—”
“Yes, yes, thank you for your wonderful display of vocabulary. Now drink your soup.”
“Why are you doing this? Why won’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because I’m your best friend!”
“Best friends take out the trash when it’s their turn!”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Meow.”
Both of them glare at the cat and yell, “Shut up, Bob!”
Bob tilts his chin up and walks away, tail swishing back and forth. If cats were able to roll their eyes, then Mikay and Sammy knew that Bob would have done that to establish his above-ness. Stupid proud cat. Why do cats act like they’re better than humans? If Mikay hadn’t said yes when Miguel asked her to take the cat because he said he couldn’t take care of Bob anymore, then Bob would be in the street, getting his little pampered kitty butt kicked. The least he could do was show some respect. Sure, their bathroom was a disgusting mess right now, but Bob does his business in a litter box. A goddamn box. He’s not in any position to judge.
(Although, with the dirty tissues all over Sammy, and Sammy being someone who used to clean Bob’s shitbox, then maybe the cat does have reason to be judgmental. Mikay won’t say this out loud though. She doesn’t need Sammy to start wailing about betrayal again.)
“Come on, Sammy. Drink your soup. I’m sorry I took the cat home, but he was your cat once too, right? I mean, I remember you being so excited when you adopted him. I can’t bear the thought of your baby Bob being out in the streets; that would be too cruel.”
“He’s not my cat! He was my and Miguel’s cat. But we’re over so it’s not my responsibility to care for him anymore! Dun siya sa tatay niyang walang kwenta!”
“Alright, I’m sorry. I’ll find Bob another home tomorrow, then we can all forget about this, okay? Drink your soup.”
“Hiccough. Are you still my best friend?”
“Sigh. Yes. And I promise to remember to take out the trash next time.”
“Okay.”