Love & Great Buildings

FIVE

CHAPTER FIVE

Rosemary couldn't remember the journey home, though she knew she had to have gotten there somehow. She could remember walking out of his house and the click of the gate behind her; it was a sound she didn't think she would soon forget, loud and final in the cold winter air. The next thing she could clearly recall was pushing open the door to her flat then shutting it firmly behind her. But not matter how she tried she had no recollection of anything in between.

Her mind was overcome with an agonizing dread at the realization that she had finally succeeded in pushing him away. She'd been angry with him, so ridiculously angry. It had surprised her just how deep that anger had gone. She had been so certain she had worked through it, had moved past it. And maybe she had, but then he had come back and her stupid, weak, hopeful heart had let him in without her express knowledge or consent. And he'd fallen right back into the patterns that had crushed her. She'd been so angry at him and so disappointed and furious in herself for trusting him again. So she'd lashed out and hurt them both in ways she didn't know could ever truly be forgiven.

Outraged with herself, she blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over. This mess was ultimately her fault, what right did she have to cry over it? But knowing that did little to make a difference. The tears still came and rather than keep fighting them, she simply gave in.

It was nearly full dark by the time she had calmed. The faint glow from the street lamps shining in through the living room window had been her only source of light in the flat. She fumbled feebly for the lamp beside the couch. She blinked rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the soft, bright light. She felt drained, both emotionally and physically. Her limbs felt heavy and her head pounded. She wanted to sleep and to forget.

With great effort, she forced herself to her feet and into the kitchen, downing two bottles of water before pulling a take-away container from the fridge. She sniffed the contents and reassured nothing smelled off, mechanically ate. Full, she went through the motions of her bedtime routine; cleaning her teeth and scrubbing her face, before collapsing onto the bed and falling into fretful, restless dreams.

If she'd harbored any illusion about the previous days' events being anything more than a horrid nightmare they'd been dispelled by first light. The guilt, muted in sleep, roared to life with a vengeance as memory crept slowly back into awareness. Rosemary covered her face with her pillow and cried, not quite sure what else to do. She wanted to apologize, wanted to make it right. But that wasn't an option, not anymore.

It was early yet, not quite six in the morning according to her bedside clock. She rubbed her swollen eyes and sighed, there seemed to be little hope of her falling back asleep. Resigned, she pulled herself out of bed and stumbled into the shower. Water turned as hot as she could stand, Rosemary climbed inside and groaned. Her shoulders were stiff and her head ached, she wanted nothing more than to disappear into herself. But that wasn't an option, she couldn't fix this and she couldn't take it back. There was nothing she could do. The thought choked her. Shaking those thoughts away she reached down and grabbed her bottle of shampoo. Stop it, just fucking stop. Crying wasn't going to fix anything. But that didn't seem to stop the tears.

Once she was clean, she dried and dressed quickly, making her way into the kitchen and fixing a cup of instant coffee. She grimaced as she drank. She hated instant but it was all she currently had and she desperately needed the caffeine. Cup in hand, she made her way into the living room and turned on the television, hoping for a distraction.

The third time through the channels, she gave up, throwing the remote back onto the table. Her mind was jumbled, running through everything that had happened in the past 36 hours and everything she wished she had done differently. She wanted to scream; she couldn't focus, couldn't think. She knew if she stayed in her flat a moment longer she'd drive herself mad. I have to get out of here.