She was the first person I noticed when they led us, the new English tutors into the Intensive English Classroom. She was beautiful and I noticed the frat boy next to me eyeing her too. Mohana, from Malaysia. I hoped that she would be assigned as one of my students and not handed off to the frat boy or the mousy girl on my left. I wanted her. Instantly.
It didn't work out that way, though. I got two Japanese girls, and a Turkish man. It worked out well for my schedule that the two Japanese girls wanted to be tutored together and eventually, we because friends outside of the sessions. Natsumi and Emiko were sweethearts and during the second semester they were here, we all got an apartment off campus to get out of the dorms.
The girls were coming along nicely with their English. Natsumi wanted to go on into the Chemical Engineering program and Emiko wanted to major in dance. At least that's what they told the folks back home in Japan. You see, Natsumi and Emiko were party girls, just like me. They were in America to be free and have a good time. They were smart, beautiful and totally uninhibited. I adored my students and friends. We smoked pot and drank massive amounts of alcohol all while trying to keep up with our studies. We were all in the International Students Organization and we threw social mixers once a month. The campus police were called regularly to our gatherings.
I was devastated when, after only eight months in the program, Natsumi had to return home to help take care of her mother, who was in a car accident. She was expected to fully recover, but it was Natsumi's responsibility to help her during the recovery process. We threw her one hell of a going away party.
After putting her on the plane back to Japan, Emiko and I were hit with a huge dilemma. We could not afford our spacious apartment without a third roommate and our other options were limited to downsizing into a local dump or moving back into the dorms. As our apartment had become hang-out central for the international students and those who adored them, we didn't want to leave it. So we began the roommate search.
We started with the International Students Organization, posting a bulletin on our group internet forum. Wanted, one semi-serious student tolerant to partying and loud music, with respect for a variety of cultures, $250 a month, plus 1/3 utilities. We got five answers within the first two days and all of them were from men. I personally had no problem with that, but Emiko's family would not have approved if they found out she roomed with a man. I don't think they would have approved of much when it came to her lifestyle, but I didn't push the issue. And then, there was a knock on the door.
Mohana looked like a fashion model. She had dark almond shaped eyes that turned up in the corners. Her hair was shoulder length and a thick, jet black. Her skin was coffee with just the right amount of cream and she smelled like exotic spices and orchids. And she took my breath away standing in my doorway.
"I want to live with you," she said.
Oh, honey, we should try just having dinner first, maybe a movie. Oh, what the hell, let's move in together! My mind buzzed and quipped before I realized that she was talking about our need for a third roommate. I managed to invite her in without tripping over my tongue.
Emiko and Mohana already knew each other well from the IEP classes they took together. She hugged Mohana and chatted her all the way to the couch. Emiko sat next to her and I sat on the loveseat alone.
Mohana explained that she didn't like the dorms because the air conditioning didn't work well and they were always hot. She also said that she hated not having a kitchen in which she could really cook. She told us how she wanted to be free to do whatever she wanted without anyone looking over her shoulder. I'd had no idea that Mohana was a budding party girl! Three Eastern Indian guys and the frat boy tutor all helped Mohana move that weekend.
She adjusted in no time and explored the wonderful world of partying and fun. After three weeks, she broke up with the frat boy tutor and asked to be switched to my roster. I was more than happy to take her on. We sat around our kitchen table and passed a joint around while I went over the oddities of the English language. I think we got her drunk for the first time a week after she moved in. It only took one tequila sunrise, and Mohana was deliciously giggly. When the party wound down, ten or so people were snoozing in various parts of our apartment and Mohana had forgotten to lock her bedroom door. Drunken people are prone to wandering and my Turkish student fell into her bed and started snoring. Unfortunately, she was in it at the time. She jumped out of the bed as though it were on fire, not an easy feat for someone so intoxicated, and left her bedroom. I heard a little knock on my door shortly after I'd heard the scream.
"Can I come?" she whispered.
I threw open the door and smiled at my drunk roomie. "Yes, of course. Poor baby, you've got to lock your door or you get weird visitors on party nights."