Carly, who stayed in the dorm to study, had a hard time.
She often stumbled upon Aleena and her boyfriend in the bathroom, barely dressed, kissing passionately.
A few times, it was even worse.
After taking a shower wrapped in a towel, Carly would find five or six strange men suddenly in the living room.
They would stare at her lecherously, ogling her, making lewd gestures and whistling.
Carly only found out what had happened after questioning Aleena.
These men were her boyfriend's roommates, who had been invited over for drinking and card games.
Carly was furious, her eyes red with anger.
"Having people over for dinner is one thing, but at least she should clean up! Every time she just leaves with her boyfriend, leaving a mess of cigarette butts and empty bottles, and leftover food on the table. I'm the one who has to clean up! She doesn't even say thank you, and acts like I owe her! Why should I?"
I frowned.
It seemed I needed to have a serious talk with Aleena.
That night, I addressed these issues with Aleena via WhatsApp.
Her response was immediate.
Aleena: [Do you want me to recommend some real estate agents?]
I frowned: [What do you mean?]
Aleena: [You two are not done yet, are you?]
I was enraged: [You bring your boyfriend over and have strangers come for parties. Is that acceptable?]
Aleena: [I'm paying rent too. I can invite whoever I want! Janessa, you should know that although the house was decided by you, I'm paying for it. Don't talk to me like you're giving orders!]
I was so angry that I laughed: [Go ask around. This apartment's rent is over ten thousand dollars a month. I've been letting you stay for just two hundred dollars a month as a favor because you're my classmate. Since you're so ungrateful, move out today!"
Two hundred dollars wouldn't even cover three days in a rundown motel near the school, let alone rent an apartment.
Moreover, she barely made two thousand dollars a month with a part-time job and had to support a lazy boyfriend, so she couldn't afford to spend half her earnings on rent.
There was silence for a long time, and I kept seeing "typing" on the screen.
I was prepared for her to throw a tantrum or beg for forgiveness, and then for me to refuse firmly.
After a while, she sent a message.
[I'm not moving out. Call the police if you want!]
This time, I was the one seething with anger.