Love to Hate You

Chapter Two

Jennie

"Seriously, Ro, I'm not joking. I think I may be living with the roommate from hell," I say, leaning forward on the kitchen counter. At this point, I feel exasperated, overworked, and in urgent need of a stiff gin and tonic.

Our apartment has an open-plan layout, so I'm watching her about to make a deadly mistake and sit in my rickety wicker chair, which I refuse to throw away. It's in the living room, but I'm well aware it should be in the trash. "Wait! Be careful. That chair is on its last legs. Take the couch. It's safer," I motion with my hands.

Rosie nods and giggles. It sets off the dimple in her right cheek that is always there because she is always smiling. "Aye aye, boss. God, you two crack me up. Why can't you guys just get your shit together?"

She runs her fingers through her curly platinum blondes and flops back on our gray three-seater, swinging her legs over the arm. Lisa has a horrid lime green bean bag off to the left, which is only used by my dog Kuku and Rosie/me when we are ridiculously drunk and lose all sense of intelligence. It clashes with absolutely everything, and I'm tempted to accidentally stab it so it can be discarded.

Sometimes I wonder if Lisa is color-blind, particularly when she wears that hideous sweater around the apartment, which is a psychedelic throwback to the seventies.

"It's not funny," I say, shaking my head. "We haven't had ONE conversation in the whole month of living together. She sees me and scurries off to her cave. It's like I repel her. You know, just the other day, I saw her leaving via the bedroom window. I mean, we are like grown adults here. Hello!"

Rosie covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. "Maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot? You know, you were stinky and hungover. God knows, I was. Plus, you spent the whole day on the couch, didn't offer to help with those heavy boxes... yadda, yadda, yadda. I wouldn't like you either in that fugly state."

"Stinky?!" I pick up the dish towel and fling it at her, laughing. "I was everything else, but that..."

God love Rosie.

My bestie is an eternal optimist and still trying to put a positive spin on an impossible situation. I've loved her since the fourth grade when she stood on a chair and flicked Markus Jones in the nose for picking on me, even though she was twice her size. From that day on, we were inseparable - whether we were giving each other haircuts at lunchtime with plastic scissors, playing with trucks in the sandpit, climbing trees with the boys, or plotting ways to dispose of barbie dolls that we received as gifts. And yes, the grumpy Freddie could see that we were gay from a very young age.

Her cheeky grin, her infectious giggle, and her unique ability to put me in my place always felt like home to me. She is only second to my Nana, who is the other great love in my life.

A pitter-patter of feet and I turn to see my little three-year-old Pom Kuku merrily making his way over. This ball of brown fluff has been a traitor of late, sleeping with the enemy, so I have mixed emotions looking at him right now.

Rosie does not. She stands up from the couch and drops to her knees, lavishing him with attention. "Hey, Kuku boy."

He collapses dramatically under her touch, and I roll my eyes.

He is such a showman.

Oh, to be a dog. Wake up, do dog things, eat, do more dog things, sleep. And then repeat, day after day, while being adored by all. If that isn't a life, I don't know what is.

"I managed to get hold of Lucia, well sort of…" I say, crinkling my nose. "She was rappelling down a glacier in The Himalayas, and it was blowing a gale so I could barely hear her. I thought I better end the call." I laugh at the lunacy of it all. Clearly, I need to find a more appropriate time to discuss Lisa.