It seems ridiculous now, but it took me a long time to notice. I was in first year, living in hall with three other girls. Mostly I went to hall to sleep, then got up and spent much of the day on campus.
Sara (not real names) was also a first year student; she was a friend of my roommate’s who brought her to our room and like that we quickly became friends.
I liked Sara. She was nice and seemed to fit in with us pretty well. She was fun to talk to and never said anything mean about anyone.
One morning I looked for my favorite T-shirt and couldn’t find it. Then I lost track of my red, sporty, cotton sleep-shirt, the most comfortable thing I wore at night. A blouse went missing, then a good pair of jeans.
At first, I didn’t worry about it too much; I figured I’d misplaced them somewhere in my messy closet. I had one bottle of drug store perfume I liked. I couldn’t believe how fast I was using it up.
After a while, I started to wonder why I had become so absentminded. It’s true I wasn’t the most organized person. I tended to throw clean clothes into the nearest drawer, not worrying whether they belonged there; and I rarely took the time to clean my cluttered closet.
My dresser was covered with whatever notebooks, pens, and other loose items I was using at the time. But I had never had such difficulty forgetting where I put things.
One April evening, it was unusually hot. We had no air conditioning, so I pulled out my round, small metal fan, plugged it in, and aimed it toward my bed while listening to some music on my IPod. Despite the heat, I managed to fall asleep with the breeze of the fan keeping me reasonably comfortable.
My jaw dropped as I sat up the bed. Did she just take my Ipod? It seemed too absurd for my sleepy brain to believe, sitting in the near pitch-black dark. I didn’t want to deal with it right then, but I knew I was going to have to confront her, something I was loath to do. In those days, I was terrified of confrontation.
The next day, I was sitting doing some work. Sara came to room after her lectures to drop her books.
“Sara. can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Sure.” She walked to where I was seated.
“Why did you take my Ipod last night? I was obviously using it.”
Sara’s face turned red. “Well… I was just… so bored. I really needed it.”
I stared at her. “Even though I was using it?
“But I was much more bored.”
“You need to get your own then, okay? Don’t do that again.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking abashed. As she turned toward the door, I caught a whiff of her perfume.
It was mine. She had taken my Ipod and used my perfume.
As soon as she left, I went to get my Ipod. I found it right away inside her bedding. When I got it, something in a folded pile of clothes caught my eye, something red: it was my lost sleep-shirt. Underneath it was my blouse. Then I pulled out a T-shirt.
Sara kept her clothes in several folded piles on the floor since she had no dresser. I went through them all, my head shaking in disbelief as I pulled out jeans, shirts, blouses, books, pens, and notebooks—all of them mine.
Without my realizing it, she had stolen a good third of everything in my room. She also had a few of my stuffed animals and some items from my dresser, and the now-empty bottle of perfume I found on the floor. Nothing was too small for her to steal.
I carried three big armfuls of stolen items and dropped them on the bed. The pile was easily three feet high and four feet wide. There were so many things it was going to take at least an hour to get it properly sorted. I left the pile there, needing to get back to my work.
Sara came to room about an hour later and found me still doing homework.
My heart was beating hard because I knew she wasn’t just a jealous roommate taking one or two things she coveted. She had taken items that didn’t even fit her, that she would never wear or use. She had taken advantage of the fact that I spent most of my time on campus and wouldn’t notice when things slowly began to disappear. Something bizarre was going on.
Sara asked if she could borrow something. I can’t remember what it was; I just remember thinking that if I hadn’t mentioned the Ipod, she would have just gone in and taken what she wanted to “borrow.”
Sara saw the pile on my bed and stopped dead in her tracks. Her face froze.
I pointed to the stolen goods. “I found all of this stuff in your things. Why did you do this? What made you think you could just take my stuff?” I was trembling from confronting her, and from just plain anger.
“That doesn’t explain it. You can’t even use most of this stuff.” I pointed at her. “Stay out of my stuff or I’ll call the custodian.” I honestly didn’t know if I had the guts to call the custodian, but I was so angry in that moment that I didn’t care.
“No!” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I can’t help it.” She covered her face with her hands.
“Sara, if that’s true, then I think you’re a kleptomaniac. You have to get help for that.”
“I’m sorry!”
“If you’re sorry you’ll get help.”
Sara left the room in tears.
I don’t think she stole from me again, though I regularly searched her stuff to make sure. I told my other roommates what happened and they checked their things; they all had something missing that they found in Sara’s stuff, but only a few items. She had, by far, stolen the most from me, probably because I was there the least.
I no longer felt safe living there and decided to move out to another room. When I visited sometime, everyone had put combination locks on their suitcases. Apparently Sara was still at it. And yet no one was willing to kick her out.
Time has gone by and I now stay in an outside hostel. My memory of that time is vivid; it was the moment that I truly understood that people who seemed nice, even people I genuinely liked and considered a friend, were capable of betrayal. She had this cute innocent face that no one would think badly of her.
Even now, it is very difficult for me to trust my friends. This, ultimately, is really what Sara stole from me. I’m still working to get it back.
……as narrated to writer by a MAK third year that preferred anonymity.
