5

How They View You

"Where are you going?" Rosie walked out of her room to see Tamara sliding on her coat and some boots.

"To a frat party. Want to come?"

Rosie laughed at the question. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wall.

Tamara made a face at her as she stood up straight after zipping up her boots. "It could be fun, Rosie. Everyone will be too drunk to care whether or not you respond to them."

Rosie's face fell, her arms falling to her sides as her posture straightened. Tamara's words felt like a blow to the face.

"Shit," Tamara's eyes went wide, horror flashing across her face when she realized how harsh her words sounded. "I'm so sorry, Rose. You know I did not mean it like that."

Rosie sucked in her lips, feeling her chest grow heavy. She walked past her cousin and headed into the kitchen, her shoulders suddenly feeling heavy. She knew Tamara didn't mean her words with a bad intent but they still struck a nerve. Tamara didn't need to admit it for Rosie to know what she thought of her. Like everyone else, Rosie knew that even her own cousin was sometimes frustrated by her.

Tamara sighed as she quickly followed Rosie into the kitchen. "Rosie, I am so sorry for how that sounded. You know I love you and... I don't mind your whole-"

"My whole what?" Rosie turned to look at Tamara. Her face was blank and void of any emotion, which only made Tamara more nervous because she had no idea what Rosie was thinking or feeling. She felt incredibly guilty for how terrible her words had sounded.

Tamara placed her bag down on the kitchen table, shaking her head frantically. "I don't know how to word my thoughts. I'm sorry, I just meant that..."

Rosie raised her eyebrows, waiting for her cousin to explain herself.

She didn't need Tamara to explain herself. She knew Tamara meant nothing bad. Rosie knew that deep down, Tamara found her exhausting, pitied her and wanted to fix her but her intentions were not ill.

The main reason this irritated Rosie was because she never asked for Tamara to play the hero and try to help her. Rosie didn't want to think of herself as someone who needed any saving or fixing. Tamara was the one who insisted moving in with Rosie, the one who constantly made Rosie out to be some sort of victim, when really, Rosie was capable and perfectly fine on her own.

Tamara ran a hand down her face. Her expression was guilt-ridden. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for my words to sound the way they did."

Rosie scoffed lightly, turning around to open the fridge. She was really just looking for a way to avoid looking at Tamara. "Hence why I don't bother speaking," she joked but her tone was cold and stoic.

Tamara paused for a long moment, biting her tongue. "I can stay in. We can watch movies and order take-out."

Rosie shook her head firmly. She didn't turn around to look at her cousin. "No need. I'm a big girl, Tamara. I don't need a constant babysitter."

Tamara groaned softly. She was at a loss on how to fix the situation. "I know you don't, Rose. I just want you to...- I don't know, go out and have some fun sometimes. I didn't mean it the way it sounded."

Rosie turned to give Tamara a dull and lifeless look. Her eyes were distant. "I don't need you to fix me, save me, change me, anything. I like my life the way it is and if you think I am so much of a burden or charity case, feel free to move out of my apartment."

Tamara sucked in a sharp breath, her chest growing heavy. Her heart cracked from Rosie's words, hurting more than she expected. "I'm sorry."

Rosie shrugged, starting to walk out of the kitchen and back to her room. She wasn't surprised that Tamara had nothing else to say. Rosie knew well enough that deep down, Tamara really did think Rosie needed fixing and that her flaws were ones that held her back.

Rosie didn't necessarily love herself but she knew that everything about her, including her flaws and lack of speaking, all made Rosie none other than Rosie herself. It was who she was- there weren't flaws, they were part of who Rosie is.

Rosie knew that everyone else would see her as not enough. Including her own family.

The sound of Rosie's room door closing indicated to Tamara that Rosie had no intention of saying anything else, or listening to anything else Tamara had to say.

*

While Tamara was out partying all night long, Rosie was locked away in her room. Her music was playing while her sketching materials were sprawled out on her bed. She got so consumed when she was working on her artwork that time flew by at lightning speed. Hours would pass without her noticing.

Rosie hadn't realized how long she had been sketching and painting until the sound of the front door opening pulled her out of her trance. Following the sound of the door closing, more clamouring and commotion could be heard through the walls.

Rosie glanced up at the clock on her wall to see that it was nearing two am. She hadn't even realized how late it was.

She placed her pencil down and sighed heavily as she headed out of her room. She already knew Tamara was back from her party as a drunk mess. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last.

When Rosie got to the main room of their apartment, Anthony was laying Tamara down on the couch. Her hair was a bird's nest, all over the place. She reeked of alcohol, her makeup was smudged all over her face. Tamara could barely open her eyes, passing out almost as soon as her body hit the couch.

Anthony stood up straight, looking over at Rosie when he felt her presence in the room. He smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry for the noise. Did I wake you?"

Rosie shook her head as she looked between her passed out cousin and Anthony.

Anthony rubbed the back of his neck, feeling diffident. Although the noise hadn't woken Rosie since she hadn't been asleep, he still felt guilty that she had to now deal with the hassle of Tamara being drunk.

"Sorry," he apologized again. "I just wanted to get her home safe."

Rosie shook her head as a dismissal, not being mad. She was slightly annoyed because she knew she would be the one nursing Tamara's hangover tomorrow while cleaning up her vomit, but it was nothing unexpected. It didn't help that she had gotten into a fight with Tamara before she left for the party.

Anthony offered Rosie a small smile, nodding his head towards the door. "Now that my job is done, I should head out."

Rosie kept her eyes on her cousin, only nodding in response.

Anthony was walking towards the front door when he stopped in front of Rosie. She finally looked up to meet his eyes that held so much warmth. A small laugh escaped his lips.

"You have a little..." he pointed at paint in Rosie's hair that was nearly dried up in the strand of hair it was stuck in. Carefully, almost without thinking, he slowly reached forward to lift the strand of hair.

Rosie's eyes followed the strand of hair that he held up.

He grinned down at her, his eyes dancing with amusement. "A little paint that never reached the canvas."

Rosie's cheeks heated up, a blush coating her features. "I should take a shower." When she spoke, her voice came out in a shaky whisper.

Unconsciously, Anthony's eyes roamed over her body before a blush crept onto his cheeks. He diverted his gaze to the ground, shaking his head sheepishly. Anthony let go of the piece of hair. "Of course. You have my number, right? Call me if you need any help with Tamara. She won't be much fun in the morning."

With her face still bright red and feeling like it was set on fire, Rosie only nodded her head. She held her breath as she watched him back away from her and turn to walk out of the apartment. Before he left, Anthony looked over his shoulder and tossed her a shy smile. "Goodnight, Rosie."