The Annoying Sleepwalker Chapter 02
Early the next morning, I took my laptop to an Apple Authorized Service Provider off campus.
After opening it up, the technician shook his head.
“The screen, motherboard, and keyboard all have liquid damage.”
“The logic board is fried, too. This isn’t going to be cheap.”
“A conservative estimate? Fifteen hundred dollars.”
My fingers tightened into a fist.
“What about the data?”
“That’s a separate recovery process. We can’t guarantee we’ll get everything back.”
“We’d have to send it out to a specialized lab.”
“That starts at eight hundred.”
I stood at the counter, silent.
Fifteen hundred.
With data recovery, it could be as much as twenty-three hundred.
I worked at a coffee shop for a month and did some online tutoring on the side.
At best, I cleared a little over a thousand.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it.
My course project had a midterm presentation in two days.
My first-round internship interview was next week.
My scholarship application was due at the end of the month.
I didn’t have time to wait, and I didn’t have the money to start over.
I took a photo of the repair estimate.
Then I sent it to our four-person iMessage group chat.
“Blair, I’m not going to make you pay for everything right now.”
“But the repair estimate is $1,500.”
“That doesn’t include data recovery.”
“How do you want to handle this?”
The second the message went through, Blair sent back a voice note.
Her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been crying all night.
“Brigid, I really didn’t know it would be this bad.”
“I was scared, too, when I woke up last night.”
“But I’m not conscious when I sleepwalk.”
“How am I supposed to pay that much?”
Tessa chimed in immediately.
“Brigid, maybe stop pushing her for now.”
“Let her go to the campus health center first.”
Mallory sent a message, too.
“Why are you putting this in the group chat?”
“You’re making this awkward for everyone.”
I stared at the screen and almost laughed.
My laptop was destroyed.
My project was on the verge of collapse.
My bank account was nearly empty.
And what they were worried about was things being *awkward*.
I replied with a single line.
“She broke my property.”
“Compensation is standard.”
Tessa sent back:
“But she didn’t do it on purpose.”
I asked:
“If someone damages your property by accident, does that mean they don’t have to pay?”
The chat went silent for a few seconds.
Then Genevieve messaged me privately.
“Brigid, Tessa told me what happened.”
“Blair’s in a really fragile state right now. Don’t provoke her.”
I stared at the words *don’t provoke her* and felt a wave of absurdity wash over me.
That was exactly how it went last time.
Every time Blair destroyed something of mine, everyone’s first reaction was to tell me not to provoke *her*.
As if the moment I tried to hold her accountable, I became the problem.
I replied:
“Genevieve, my laptop is what got destroyed.”
“It had my project files and internship materials on it.”
She answered:
“I know. But it’s already the end of the semester.”
“Everyone’s looking for internships.”
“If this turns into a formal incident report, it won’t look good for anyone.”
“Try to talk it out first.”
“Don’t report it to the student life office.”
I asked:
“Then who’s responsible for my losses?”
It took her a long time to reply.
“Try to be understanding of the special circumstances.”
I stared at that sentence and nearly laughed out loud.
Special circumstances.
The second that phrase came out, it was as if my losses—anyone else’s losses—suddenly ceased to matter.
That afternoon, I went to see Ms. Albright, our dorm supervisor.
After listening to my story, she frowned.
“Does she actually have a documented sleepwalking issue?”
“That’s what she claims,” I answered.
Ms. Albright sighed.
“Then let’s just observe for now.”
“It’s better not to escalate financial disputes to the university level right away.”
“That would be difficult for Housing to handle.”
I handed her the repair estimate.
“I’m not escalating.”
“I’m asking for compensation.”
Ms. Albright glanced at the amount, and her frown deepened.
“Fifteen hundred is a lot.”
“But if she really was sleepwalking…”
“We can’t immediately classify this as intentional property damage.”
I asked, “Then what do you classify it as?”
Ms. Albright didn’t answer.
The implication was clear enough.
In the end, the loss was mine to bear.