Chapter Text
“When you’re a kid, you think time drags on so slowly that days feel like weeks and a whole year from now is a lifetime away.” She said, with a humourless laugh. “It isn’t until you hit your twenties that you understand that time has always done laps around you, running its best pace during the times you want to last.”
Rose rubbed at a spot on the table with her shirtsleeve before continuing on.
“Those moments are gone before you can savour enough of the important details to relive again in any way that is satisfying or helpful—the songs he used to hum while getting ready for work in the morning, the way his light brown hair would fall into his eyes in a way you are convinced was intentional, and most of all, the warmth of his body as he slept beside you, and how that made you feel whole.”
“…I can’t even say, for sure, who I am anymore when he isn’t around, and that should sicken me. Instead,” she wobbled, “It just makes me want him so much more.”
“He sure has done a number on you,” said Martha, shaking her head with sympathy or pity. “You know very well how unhealthy that sounds, I don’t have to tell you.” She reached out, grasping Rose’s hand in hers, looking at her friend with compassion.
“Look. Let’s get dressed up, looking fabulous, hit up this party Jack has been talking about all week, and forget about Jimmy Stone. Tonight, he doesn’t even exist!”
“I don’t know…” Rose began quietly, brushing at the strand of blonde hair clinging to the mixture of tears and snot on her face.
“You need this, Rose! I’m calling the crew. What you need right now is a fun night out, plenty of drinks, friends who love you…and a shower. Go get cleaned up and I’ll lend you my new black slinky dress with the low-cut back. You and Amy have been hounding me about this dress. Know that I must love you very much if I’m letting you get first crack at it,” Martha laughed gently.
Pulling Rose up, Martha pushed her friend towards the bathroom, brooking no argument.
Once she heard the shower running, Martha picked up the phone:
“Amy? Hey. It’s Rose. She—” Martha smiled at the rush of concern coming from her feisty ginger friend.
“Absolutely. Intervention required. Bring Rory and call Jack and Ianto. I’ll call Donna.”
“What? Oh, I couldn’t stop Mickey if I tried! You know how he is with Rose, protective and obnoxious best friend. But, you know, maybe that’s just what she needs right now, her loved ones around…and fun! She needs fun! Yep, see you in a bit.”
The flat was quiet when Rose stepped out of the shower. She wrapped her pink fluffy towel around her, coiled her hair up into a softly piled bun on top of her head, and peered into the mirror above the sink.
Ugh, she thought, as she studied her reflection. Her untended eyebrows were growing wild like her mum’s attempt at a container garden back home. The various pots Jackie collected on their balcony had become such a tangled, stinky mess that several tenants in neighbouring flats had written a note pleading Jackie for their removal. Of course, it had been left to Rose to remove them, just as she lifted tweezers to her face now.
There were other physical changes, Rose noted, including dark roots in dire need of a touch-up, sad eyes holding court in an equally sad face, and enough weight loss to spark interest and possibly anger in Martha.
Well, no avoiding it is there? She thought with a shrug, and headed out to be dressed and primped by Martha.
In the end, Martha did not mention Rose’s weight loss. Her only response had been a soft intake of breath and to trace the prominent bony lines of Rose’s collarbones with her eyes. Taking notes for the others, Rose decided.
Martha’s lovely black dress had been much coveted by both Rose and their good friend Amy. The mid-thigh length showed off Rose’s feminine curves to perfection and made Amy’s long legs look like they went on for days. A halter neck allowing for a deep cut in the back, revealing a lot of skin and an abundance of confidence. Thin strands of rhinestones crisscross low on the back, bringing attention to a pert bum.
“There,” said Martha, tucking the last pin into Rose’s cute up-do and pretending not to notice that Rose had lost a stone, or nearly. “You’re ready.”
Rose and Martha looked at the girl depicted in the mirror, neither wanting to admit she was a stranger to them both.