Antilove

Sette

CAPITOLO SETTE

when hypochondriasis seizes

***

THEY LIE TOGETHER IN the ambient quietude of Rose's room. He sleeps on his stomach, cheeks flush against the bedspread and pillow covering his head. The sheets are tangled in his limbs and it left Rose shivering when she woke up. On a day like this, she needs all the distraction she needs and all the company she can get to pass the hours where she's awake. That company comes in the name of Evan (last names are a blurry thing for six in the morning).

    Feeling cold, she creeps closer to Evan and slips an arm around his waist, digging her head under his arm so that he's reciprocating. He stirs, ever so slightly, and shifts so that it's more comfortable for the both of them. Evan tries to roll on his back and bring Rose over so that she's straddling him but she stays firm.

    Mornings are when her lovers view the world through rose colored glasses (used most literally and figuratively). If they're still there in the AM, they'll find a way to stay through the day and ask for contact Rose isn't willing to give. The memories of the night before have been laid down in both their brains. Lucien's lips in Rose's and Rose's hips in Evan's. She doesn't want to take advantage of Evan when he's in the position to accept any sort of affection.

    "I have to go to my appointment," she says.

    Evan gives a confused grunt, eyes still heavy from lack of sleep.

    "Gynecologist."

    "Oh," he says.

    "Use the shower, help yourself. Come back if you need to," Rose says and goes to get dressed. She's already cleaned up after herself, half an hour after Evan passed out.

    Last night, Rose tucked Lucien into bed, and he's been asleep ever since. She checked up on him a few times, to make sure he hasn't rolled on his back or that he's still breathing but knowing him, it would probably take an apocalypse to put him in any danger. There's a high chance that he won't remember the details from yesterday and Rose has no intentions to resurface such issues. She can't tell if it's out of consideration or the fact that there's still a faint mark of his bite on the edge of her lip.

***

THERE ARE A FEW people that know about Rose and her disease and she can count them all on one hand. She's heard stories where people would throw parties, informing their friends and family, as if it's supposed to be public knowledge.

    The first person that knows—knew—was her birth mom. Of course she knows, she's the one that reappeared and told Rose about the likelihood Rose herself might have Huntington's. The second person that knew was her adoptive mother. The third, her adoptive father. They were the ones joining hands together, waiting for her diagnosis results. The fourth is Amber. Rose knew that when she started her job as a makeup artist, she'd need to have someone to cover for her on her off-days. Amber found out right away, when she followed Rose out the backdoor of the studio and confronted her ("What's wrong with your hands?").

    The effects of this has taken a massive hit on Rose. Weight loss, though not significant, has lead her to visit a dietician because god forbid she be accused of having an eating disorder—especially when she works in an industry like her's. It's forced her to start taking care of herself but has also given her a sense of freedom. There's nothing for her to leave in this world when she's dead and she doesn't have to take into consideration of her heritage. There's also little room in her bathroom cabinets, less room for her hair products and more for her medication. She doesn't allow anyone in there, because given a chance, guests would snoop through there.