In the Life of a Rose

September 12, 2020

In the Life of a Rose...

I slipped on a graphic crop top over my sports bra, so when I lifted my arms, it showed the Nike band. My sweats had been accidentally purchased a size bigger so even with the jaw string, it was still loose. I didn't feel like returning them because they fit lengthwise and they were a neat gray. With them hanging on my waist, the pulled-up underwear showed some hip skin before the pants again. My stomach was inevitably showing and I was surprised to see my abdomen still toned without working out and continuously eating.

I had taken down the cornrows that were under my wig and wore my hair curly, parted to the side, and just being free. I hadn't figured out my next hairstyle yet and I didn't bother rushing to find one. I was using my time on the couch to scroll on Pinterest in search of something trendy.

My mouth had gone dry and I wanted something to snack on so I got up and went to the kitchen, staring into the fridge's abyss. I finally grabbed some Simply Lemonade and some Doritos that I poured into a plate.

"Watcha eating?" Chris asked, coming from the opening into the dining room. I knew he had come from his room and that was the shortest pathway, especially since he was just wearing pants.

I had seen him shirtless but that was for the hot tub. This time, it was different; we were inside, in the comfort of our house. Unfortunately, this 'comfort' was all laced with spiking tension. The heat was filling the space as we just stared at our exposed bodies, neither of us shy or weirded out. Just there, our eyes hungry like predators.

"Chips," I answered without any different tone. "Want some?" My crunch was loud as I extended my arm towards him. He took a step forward and grabbed more than he should have and held it in his hand. I turned and poured some more. "And lemonade."

"Nah, I'll take a beer," he said and I went to the fridge and grabbed a brown bottle to hand to him. "Thanks."

"Mmm-Hm," I hummed. His footsteps were quiet as he went away, the tension diminishing when he closed the door behind him. I exhaled and returned to my spot on the couch. "This is nice," I murmured, seeing a hairstyle called butterfly locks on my page. "Whatcha think, Buddy?"

Dodger peered over to look at my phone and panted. I laughed, brushed his growing hair, and went online to purchase a few packs of hair that was needed. I wasn't sure when I was gonna do it but it was food for thought.

I flipped to Instagram and started scrolling through the series of new posts, some from other celebrities, and others from family and friends. I liked David's new picture of him at the beach and lightly smiled. My favorite actress from Hamilton, Philipa Soo, had posted and I liked it, along with my sister's post and I flooded her comment section with emojis.

I scrolled back up to look at stories, a few from the posts, and I was watching a video Chris had posted of us playing a game last night. I laughed and clicked the right side of the screen to continue and I paused at the mirror picture of Chris and his entire body revealed.

A scream came out of my mouth and I blurted, "Chris!" Dodger was scrambling, confused at my horror and I stood, moving towards the hallway. Chris had come out of his room, his phone in his hand, and his face plastered with a cold, teary expression. I could tell he knew what he had done and immediately deleted it. "Chris."

"I-I," he was unable to speak and started stepping out of his room. I could see his face start to break into tears and I motioned my arms to come and he threw his arms around my bare waist. I wrapped my arms around his neck, rubbing his back as he cried into my shoulder.

His chest pressed against mine and the thin fabric of my shirt was the only thing separating us. However, I couldn't think of the intimacy of our so-called friendship. I had to be a friend and care for him right now. I had brushed past the fact that he had anxiety and this thing was going to put him over the edge. I felt like it was my responsibility to be there for him, to help him through this.

"Chris," my voice faltered through his sobs. I could feel his legs shaking, the energy vibrating through me and I caught onto him as he fell to his knees. My fingers raked through his hair as I held onto his head that was pressed against my stomach, his tears touching my skin.

I looked wearily at Dodger in the gray light beaming through wide windows next to us. I bowed my head to see Chris' head just there, his body convulsing from the remaining cries and I just rubbed his back.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, trying to support him with my leg. "I am so sorry."

He sniffled, pulled back, and stood. He stared at me with his puffy, blue eyes, and I wiped his tear with the back of my hand. It was more of a stroke than a wipe but it did the job in a more caring way. I softly pursed my lips, not knowing what expression to make out of the whole situation.

"What happened?" I asked, knowing he was taking pictures before he had asked what I was eating. I assumed he had only slipped on a pair of lounging pants to come out of his room.

As he began explaining with too many words and short lapses of pauses, I finally made sense of his story: he had said what I predicted and when he wanted to post our game night, he had accidentally clicked too many images. When he went to view the story a few minutes later, he had seen what he had posted. Hundreds of people had already seen the story and he knew that after he deleted it, it was never truly gone.

"Oh," I breathed, looking at the floor. I gazed back at him and snaked my arms around his neck and back, hugging him again.

"I-I have to call my publicity manager," he murmured into my ear. He pulled away from me and picked up his emotional support dog. As he was walking away, his body had hunched over solemnly, his footsteps were loud and heavy, and he returned to his room.

I clenched my jaw, feeling some kind of coldness in the hallway after being left alone. The energy in the air was negative and I couldn't stand it, so I went to my room. I made sure that his story was gone but not really. On Twitter, people were already talking about it and some had screenshot the picture. Anger raged inside of me but I didn't want to comment on something I'd regret or be bad on Chris' part so I just reported the accounts.

I plugged in my AirPods and began listening to Sabrina Claudio's Confidently Lost to soothe the pounding headache I had. When the song finished and played the next, I began to drift to sleep.

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The upbeat Runnin' Through Lovers was now playing and I woke up to turn off the music. It was dark out and I stretched my back; I hadn't meant to sleep that long.

I went to the bathroom and washed my face to wake myself up. I yawned, stepping out through the door next to the toilet, and was met by a gust of wind. With the wind was the horrid scent of a burning cigarette. Barefoot, I stepped outside to see a cloud of the smoke brush into the air and I turned the corner to see Chris standing there, a cigarette in his hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I inquired, disbelief filling my voice and a slight hint of calming anger. He pressed the bud on the grill that set it out and he flicked it into the metal trash beside it.

"Thea, can you please not, I don't want to hear it."

"No," I shook my head. "I literally can't believe you're smoking right now, or- or at all."

"It helps with my anxiety."

"Go see a fucking therapist," my voice raised a single octave when I uttered the last word. "You know damn well that's killing you every puff you take. It might be a temporary depressant but it's absolutely useless."

"As if you could do any better," he muttered and my eyelids straightened into a slither. "I tried to go to you for comfort but I couldn't get it."

"What the fuck?" I dryly chuckled. "You fucking sobbed in my arms like a child and then left, saying you need to call your publicist, and now you're bullshitting me?"

"Yes. Because I'm always there to help you but when I need it, the one time..." he trailed off. "I didn't feel the comfort I needed."

I rolled my eyes when I closed them, crossing my arms. I knew exactly what he was talking about and I just scoffed, "Then find a better friend," and stormed out.