The Rose Thief

II. Ain't Nobody Got Thyme For That

Ain't Nobody Got Thyme For That

My dearest mother, always the inquisitive type, could sniff out
scandalous blather from a mile away. She took immense pride in keeping up with what was 'hip and happening' and never failed to share her findings with any poor sap that was within range. Sadly, the odds were not in our favour, and Charlotte and I were grudgingly thrown into the role as said sap.

I had made it two steps into my home before manicured nails latched themselves into my forearm, surely leaving a mark, and tugged me into the kitchen with Charlotte following closely behind us.

My father had claimed sanctuary at the kitchen counter, surrounded by files and empty coffee cups, an exasperated expression marring his features. I couldn't blame him though; years of restless nights studying law followed by many more at the firm would surely drain the life out of the Energizer Bunny. I said a quick hello and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, to which he muttered a terse greeting in return.

The crinkling of the blinds caught my attention and I turned to see my mother peering through them; at what, I had no idea.

"Mother, what on Earth are you doing?" I voiced the question that, surely, everyone was thinking.

In turn, she looked at me astonished. "Haven't you heard? A new family has moved into the neighbourhood and the two sons are the talk of the female town."

I said an internal prayer, hoping my mother would refrain from forcing me into a Pride and Prejudice enactment, ending in an arranged marriage and no chance of living a peaceful life in solitude.

"As soon as I'd heard the delightful news I thought of you, Roseline. Wouldn't it be wonderful to settle down with a respectable boy?"

Cursing the big guy upstairs, I looked to Charlotte for help. Always the actress, she busied herself with the medial task of alphabetising the fridge magnets, blatantly ignoring my probing stare.

Without waiting for my answer, my mother continued her futile attempt at relationship motivation. "Apparently the family is incredibly well-off, they're lovely people and their sons are both single. What do you think of that, Rose? Rose? Rose! Are you even listening to me?"

I wasn't.

My father, bless his soul, made the futile attempt of asking my mother to relinquish her need to invade in our neighbours' privacy, knowing full well that privacy was a word unheard of in my mothers' vocabulary unless applied to herself.

"Christopher Carmichael, do you not worry about your daughter's future in the slightest?"

My father's eyes remained cast downward on his papers as he replied. "Of course I do, except when it comes to pubescent boys touching my daughter inappropriately or even looking in her vicinity for longer than a second."

I didn't know whether to cringe at my father's reference to my, non-existent, sex life or to be grateful that someone was taking my side.

Charlotte chose that exact moment to speak. "You have nothing to worry about Uncle Chris. Rose gives new meaning to the word prude."

"She speaks." Came my condescending remark, receiving a mere dirty look before she continued.

"But don't worry, Aunt Julia. I would gladly take Rose's place in the chance to score some eye-candy."

There were two things utterly incorrect with Charlotte's sentence. Firstly, I hadn't the slightest chance of obtaining any 'eye-candy', whether my mother offered her services or not and secondly, Charlotte didn't need to take my imaginary place to obtain a never ending queue of guys to date. She could do that exceptionally well on her own.

"Oh, Charlotte. You're absolutely stunning and I have no doubt that you'd be able to snag either one of those boys. That's why I'm being so insistent with Rose. We all know that she needs the head start." My mother even had the grace to laugh.

Her comment may have sounded like a joke but underneath the giggles was the harsh reality that I couldn't snag a guy with all the power of the sun while Charlotte could make them drop to their knees with a glace. Who needs pride and self-confidence when you mother could shatter it with a few words?

I felt a surge of resentment for their lack of faith in my ability to get a man, not that I didn't disagree with them. Sadly, it led me to ask a question I hadn't the slightest care to know.

"What are their names even?"

My mother must have taken this as my showing interest in the topic, for her eyes seem to light up, in an almost deranged way. "Isaac and Elijah Levi. I could get their phone numbers for you if you'd like."

I most certainly did not.

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