Sweet Love of Mine

Why the hell was she doing this?  Rosie looked in the hall mirror and sighed.  Yes, her hair was done, yes her makeup -for the first time in a long time - was on and yes, she was wearing her favourite killer heels. Her best friend in the entire world had asked her to celebrate her engagement, so why did she still not want to go out?

She knew why.  She was falling apart at the seams.  Guilt, regret, call it what you will, she knew she just missed him like she would miss her right arm.  It had only gotten worse the more she thought of Debbie and her impending marriage.  Something she knew was beyond the realms of possibility for her now. Not that she'd ever imagined marrying Tom, no, it was just if she couldn't get over him, she could never love anyone else either.

It wasn't jealousy either, of course she was over the moon for Debbie.  Mark had turned out to be more than just an Adonis.  He had turned out to be a thoroughly decent human being.  Even going as far as to make sure she was ok if Debs wasn't around.  He was quite obviously head over heels in love with her friend and that made him instantly Rosie's ally.  No, it definitely wasn't jealousy but despite her joy for Debbie, for the two of them, she just wanted to hide.  Hide and never come out again. Hide, watch Marvel films and forget the world.  Forget the world.  The phrase played in her head... her favourite song... that moment with Tom in his arms... for the umpteenth time that day she started to cry.

She couldn't do it.  She couldn't go.  She just couldn't face the world and admit that she had been an idiot, not only in not recognising him, but also in letting him go. Her pride and her temper had gotten the better of her and she had made the ultimate mistake. She was a screwup and she knew it.  Walking back into the living room, she took off her boots and pulled a glass and a bottle of JD - another taste of his she now couldn't break -  from the cabinet by the tv.  Switching it on, she closed the curtains and sat on the sofa.  Picking up her phone she text Debbie feigning illness - she knew Debs would see through it but she'd understand. She would.  Wouldn't she?

As she poured a generous measure, the familiar, comforting theme music blared and she sank back into the cushions.  This was the only way she would ever see him again so this was the way it had to be. As she sank measure after measure, her mind refused to acknowledge it wasn't really healthy and she pretended she didn't know she was letting Debbie down.  After all, Debbie had her own hero now, what did she need Rosie for anyway.  Eventually she slipped into a restless, Jack Daniels infused sleep, the voice of her conscience silenced by the soundtrack of her hero taking over New York.

"Rosie!  ROSIE!!"  she opened her eyes with a start. Someone was hammering on her door.

"ROSALYN - OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!"  she sat up, now realising she had fallen asleep in front of the tv, glass in hand and it had spilled all over her blouse.  She stank like a distillery.  The tv was almost silent now, DVD having finished, just the title page playing on an endless loop.  

"ROSALYN DEMPSTER OPEN THIS EFFING DOOR OR I'LL GET IT OPENED FOR YOU!" Debbie's voice sounded a mixture of anger and fear.  Rosie staggered to her feet and the room disappeared into the middle distance as the alcohol surged round her brain.  She groaned and held onto the doorpost as she lurched into the hallway.

"I'm coming" she managed to shout "hold your... horses" she slammed the glass onto the hall table , only just avoiding it smashing and opened the door. She squinted at her friends, trying to look sober and failing miserably.  "hello please do come in." she slurred.

Debbie and Mark stood on her doorstep, faces white with worry and now, as Debbie saw she was actually alive, rage. She stepped forward and with a swift left hook, slapped Rosie hard across the face. "You selfish, stupid, thoughtless, terrifyingly worryingly missing little madam, GET INSIDE NOW!" she pushed her hard and Rosie fell backwards in a drunken heap on her backside in the hall.

Rosie looked up as Debbie stood over her, hands on hips, face now red with rage.  Mark made to help her up but Debbie put out a hand to stop him.

"No.  Leave her.  Close the door." Mark shrank back, he'd never seen Debbie this angry before and to be truthful he couldn't really see why she was now.  Sure Rosie hadn't turned up, but even he, as a obtuse man, could see the woman was hurting.  He absolutely new better than to say a word though.

"Get, UP." she hissed at Rosie "Get up and get into that living room now before I smack that pretty little face of yours again!" 

Rosie looked at her friend opened her mouth to speak and then burst into tears. 

"Oh for FUCKS sake!" Debbie rolled her eyes "How much?" Mark looked into the living room , more to avoid the unfolding scene to be truthful, and spied the almost empty bottle.  He grabbed it and showed Debbie who groaned. "Jesus Rosie, you pick your moments" she stuck out a hand and pulled her sobbing friend up. Between them, Debs and Mark supported her into the kitchen, sitting her at the table as Debbie sat next to her and Mark did the only thing he knew was safe, he made some coffee.  Strong coffee.

"I miss him" Rosie moaned quietly. "I miss him so much"

"Rosie, you know I love you?  But right now, I really don't like you very much" Debbie spoke calmly but firmly "You let me down.  For the first time in your - our - lives you let me down.  I needed you tonight and you weren't there.  And you know why?  " she waited as Rosie sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.  "Do you?"

"Yes" she said in a small voice "I - I - I'm sorry."

"No, I don't think you do" Debbie said, sitting forward and leaning her elbows on the table "you, my dear girl, are in sore need of a dose of reality" she took Rosie's hand "and I am sorry, this isn't going to be pleasant, but I need to do it.  For both of us."

"ok" a mousy voice Rosie realised was hers, answered softly.  Mark placed a mug in front of her and she sniffed it then took a sip, wincing at both it's strength and heat.

"Now look, I know you're hurting and I know you feel guilty, but it's no excuse to let your life fall apart.  Do you see Tom's life falling apart?  Well, do you? Is he moping around, not eating properly, not getting any exercise, living in his tracksuit bottoms and generally looking like a bag lady on a daily basis.  Well, a bag man " she smirked then went on, "Rosie, we - yes we- love you very much but it's been months - YOU made the choice despite what I told you so YOU have to get it together. Before you lose... well more than just Tom Fecking Hiddleston anyway." 

"But how?  I LOVE him Debbie.  Despite everything. I really truly LOVE him" she whined sadly as she put the mug down, closing her eyes to block the pounding headache and the tears that  threatened again. 

"Then DO something about it. Stop being a totally pussy and DO something"  Debbie snapped at her.  "This is the final straw.  You miss another of my engagement parties and we're done!"  Debbie's voice contained a gentle smile and Rosie knew they were ok. It didn't change her problem though.

"How can I?" she sighed, eyes still closed, sipping her coffee "He's in America and I don't have his number any more.  And he won't want to see me." A single tear slipped out despite her best efforts to squeeze her lids shut.

"No - he's not. Yes - you do and well, the rest is up to you to find out." 

Rosie's eyes snapped open and she stared at Debbie.  On a piece of paper now sitting on her kitchen table was a number.  A London number.  Tom's number.

She loved Debbie very very much. Even if she did hit like a boxer.