When I was in college I lived in this older 1920’s plantation home with two roommates, L and J. The house was single-wall construction and was situated in a pretty windy valley, so there were all kinds of drafts and creaks that we all got used to over time. It helped that rent was cheap and I was a heavy sleeper.

One night I was holed up in my room, studying for finals until an ungodly hour in the morning. It was a bit stormy so I had some music on to drown out the wind whistling around the roof and the clattering of some loose piece of wood our landlord had failed to address. I finally decided to call it a night around 3:45am and stumbled to the bathroom in the dark to brush my teeth. I noticed that both L and J’s doors were closed and their rooms dark, so I assumed they must have already gone to bed.

I made it back to my room in the dark, switched my playlist to something more soothing and drifted off to a deep, dreamless sleep.

I woke with a start to the sound of repeated heavy slamming. I looked at the clock. 4:20am. I laid in bed and willed the noise to stop, hoping it was just J drunkenly trying to make instant noodles after his shift at the bar. The slamming was loud and persistent and coming at fairly regular intervals. And it didn’t stop. I finally came to the conclusion that it was not a drunk chef in the kitchen, but that someone had forgotten to latch the back kitchen door and the wind was opening it up and slamming it closed. I groaned and got up to address the situation, pissed off at both roommates because they always forgot to lock the door, pissed off at my landlord for not fixing the door handle so it would latch properly, pissed off at the neighbors rooster who was now crowing at 4:30 when the sun wasn’t due to rise for at least another hour and a half.

I walked into the dark kitchen, bleary eyed, exhausted and so so mad. I stomped all the way through to the back door and saw that it was closed, deadbolt and latch in place. It wasn’t the door slamming. I stopped and listened, but only heard the wind. The clattering from earlier had stopped. I don’t know what happened to the rooster. Hopefully a cat got it. I was confused, but too tired and stressed about exams to care. I turned around to walk back to bed and noticed every single cupboard was open and every single drawer pulled out.

“Fucking J,” I thought. It was him cooking after all. I would have to talk to him in the morning.

I slammed all the drawers and cupboards closed, a part of me hoping it would wake the other two up so they could share in my early morning misery, but the house remained quiet. Even the wind had died down. At least now I could get some sleep.

I woke up the next morning and got ready for class. Both L and J’s doors were open, their rooms empty. I didn’t know how they had gotten up before me. I walked into the kitchen to grab a granola bar before heading out. All the cupboards and drawers were open again. Seriously? We all really needed to have a talk. I called L first. He croaked out a groggy hello and asked why I was calling so damn early. Apparently he had slept over at his girlfriend’s last night. I apologized and said we could talk later. I called J. No answer. Our talk would have to wait.

I shoved the granola bar in my mouth, grabbed my backpack and ran out the front door, literally running into J as he rushed into the house.

“Shit, sorry,” he said as he fumbled to pick up his dropped keys. Then he mumbled something about needing to take a shower. I noticed he was still in his wrinkled work shirt. I asked if he was ok and he gave me a big goofy grin. He said it wasn’t his proudest moment, but a couple of older women had persistently hit on him throughout the night, so he decided to go out and party with them after he was done bartending. He ended up spending the night at one of their apartments, but swore nothing happened, he just passed out on the floor. Right.

J then asked me what was up because I sounded mad in the message I left him. I was about to say something about remembering to lock the back door and having respect for people sleeping in the middle of the night, but realized neither of these things applied to him or my other roommate. I had been the only one home all night. I ended up telling him it was nothing, that I was just stressed out. He laughed and told me I needed to relax and promised to buy me a couple beers after class.

I don’t know what happened that night. If it had just been the middle of the night, I would have been able to convince myself it was a dream, but that wouldn’t explain why everything was open again in the morning. We lived in that house for another year and a half and nothing like that happened again. I try not to think about someone breaking in and hiding in the shadows while I angrily stumbled around in the dark by myself. Nothing was stolen, but we also didn’t have much to steal.