Page 24 of My Roommate Is a Vampire

Also, before I forget could you please remember to give me your WiFi network name and password? Sorry to keep harping on this, but I’ve been using my phone as a hotspot since moving in, and it eats through my data.

Cassie

Dear Miss Greenberg,

I had not intended to be funny in my note to you, though I am pleased to have made you laugh regardless.

On an unrelated note, the woman who lives on the second floor just informed me Thursday is “trash day.” I was unaware of this, as I am not in the regular habit of throwing things away.

Now that there are two of us here we might want to participate in this weekly ritual. I assume you throw things away? If so, would you be so kind as to procure a rubbish bin? I do not own one, nor do I know what one costs or how one would go about obtaining one. I will deduct whatever you spend in purchasing one from your monthly rent.

With kind regards,

Frederick J. Fitzwilliam

ps: Regarding your questions concerning WiFi and network names and passwords I do not believe I have any of those things, but I will confer with Reginald and let you know.

I stared at that note for a while before replying to it.

How could a grown adult not have a trash can? And not know where to get one?

And he didn’t know if he had Wi-Fi? That had to be another of his peculiarly dry jokes. I’d follow up with him about that the next time I saw him.

Frederick—I don’t throw much away either. I don’t like getting rid of anything that might have a use later, especially sinceupcycling is a big part of my art. But on principle I feel like two grown-ups should own at least one single trash can between them. Right? I’ll get one at Target after work.

Cassie

ps: Why do you keep calling me Miss Greenberg? There’s no need for us to be so formal with each other, is there? Just call me Cassie. :)

Before I could talk myself out of it, I added a quick smiling sketch of myself, holding a garbage can in my arms, before leaving the note on the kitchen table. I hadn’t drawn little cartoon figures in a while, and I told myself it was good practice to drown out the voice in my head yelling at me for flirting with him.

Frederick’s reply was waiting for me on the table when I got home from work with our brand-new kitchen trash can.

DearMiss GreenbergCassie,

The picture you drew for me on your latest note is lovely. Is that meant to be you? You clearly have a great deal of talent.

Thank you for handling the rubbish bin situation.

Per your request, going forward I will do my best to refer to you by your first name rather than “Miss Greenberg.” However, calling you “Cassie” goes against both my upbringing and my instincts. As such, please be patient with me if I occasionally forget and revert to more formal manners of address.

FJF

I quickly tamped down the strange rush of pleasure that shot through me at his compliment on my art, reminding myself that I’d spent less than ten minutes on that doodle and he was clearly only trying to be nice. I chose instead to focus on how weird he was being about calling me by my first name.

Frederick,

It goes against your upbringing and your instincts to call me Cassie instead of “Miss Greenberg”? Really? Who raised you, Jane Austen?

Cassie

At the end of that note I drew a hasty caricature of someone in old-fashioned garb, just to be a jackass.

His reply was waiting for me on the kitchen table the following morning.

Dear Cassie,

Not... exactly Jane Austen, no.

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