we keep this love in a photograph

Chapter 27

The first week passed by agonisingly slow but after that, Jennie seemed to settle into a routine. The July nights were cloyingly hot and she didn't sleep well without Rosie. Sprawling across the bedcovers, she breathed in the lingering smell of her, until her housekeeper changed the sheets and it was no longer there. She was at the office every day, putting in twelve hours and only dragging herself home to the chidings of Alice and Ashley, and Rosie too when they tattled on her. They seemed to think of it as an unhealthy coping mechanism for Rosie being gone, and while it might have been unhealthy, it was familiar to Jennie - that had been her life for far longer than she'd known Rosie.

Jennie would go for early morning walks in the borough surrounding her house, when the city was still eerily quiet and the sky lingered in the blue hour of morning. The city's old buildings seemed tired, or maybe it was just her, dark circles beneath her eyes and her dragging footsteps as she itched to get back in the office. After showering and getting ready, she'd make the drive to J Corporations and stand on the balcony, looking out at the tall glass buildings with all their lights off. Her heart would hurt for what should be vibrant, everything seeming washed of its colour as she lingered in a loneliness she couldn't stand anymore.

She did take proper weekends though - not out of her own desire for a healthy work and life balance, but so she could appreciate things on Rosie's behalf. On her days off she woke up late - for her - and went to various coffee shops, ordering cappuccinos and reading. She made time for lunch with Ashley and game nights with Rosie's other friends, quiz night at the bar and cocktails on the riverfront after a movie. She had come to appreciate a good movie and frequented the old cinema Rosie had taken her too so many months before.

Her favourite time was the evenings though, when she was alone and another day was
about to come to a close, bringing her one day closer to Rosie. Around seven o'clock, when the light was failing, she would take out a bottle of dry sherry and pour herself a glass, take out a jar of green olives, put on Miles Davis and read in the attic. She didn't know why it felt so indulgent, but one day Jennie realised that ritual was why she had moved to San Francisco - to eat olives and get tipsy and read about people who had done great things while the sun set. She had created a life that was bent in service to living, something she had staunchly refused to do before as she curated a smattering of things and forgot to enjoy them. It seemed almost wrong to have figured out how to live and be left in that colourful world without the object of its source; her grey life before Rosie was more fitting to her mood.

Still, she coped as one week became two, filling every part of her waking hours with something to do to distract her. The nights still worried her though, and no matter what she did, Jennie would lie awake - for hours usually - filled with dread. She had no more tears in her after that first week. For someone who didn't cry that often, it seemed silly and trivial to do it every night, something embarrassing that she imagined would be seen on her the next day.

On her days off, she would take two Ambien and nap to make up for sleepless nights, sprawled out on her bed, freshly showered on the light linen sheets, the floral smell of detergent soothing and the windows thrown open to the heat of the day. She would play Louis Armstrong or Enya and allow the drugs to lull her to sleep as the soft breeze slowly dried her hair, but she never stayed asleep.

The only time she ever felt like she could properly breathe, when that tight feeling in her chest loosened for a short while, reassured by Rosie's face, getting more tanned by the day as freckles spackled her nose, making her eyes impossibly lighter. They spoke most days, Jennie holding out for them, slipping out of meetings and breaking off conversations to answer her phone. Those calls were the most important parts of her day and she treasured every moment, but eventually, Rosie would have to hang up again and Jennie would feel that crushing pressure build inside her chest once more.