7.3: The Artsy Museum

 NOTE: Once again, there's a little bit of bad language (no f- or sh- bombs) and mildly offensive stuff.

  There was something about the art museum that I connected with. There was a history here; not just an artistic one, but a personal one. I knew very little about my mother who passed such a long time ago and Booker... I couldn't call him dad anymore. I had made peace with myself, but the relationship was wrecked. I read somewhere that "Infamous Politician Dies: Still Not the Mayor" I skimmed the article and sure enough, it was Booker Singleton. Never mayor, never a husband, never a decent father. What's there to say?
  "Glad you could take a few minutes out of your day and come." Gwen snipped at me. "Even if you are a bit, shall we say, not on time." She was sitting on the left edge of a bench in the middle of the Fairy Folk & Towns exhibit, with Rosie to her right, in the middle.
   "We carpooled here together. Rosie drive, I sat shotgun and you sat behind me." I stated, confused. "I literally walked in here two seconds after you. How am I late?"
   "Excuses, excuses." She rolled her eyes as if everything I said was a lie. "Lets get down to business."

   "Hazel, being so amazing, already booked our rooms at this cute little bed and breakfast. It seems so homey, like a French country side inn. It's actually in the suburbs of Paris." Rosie beamed as she talked. With her radiant smile, grateful attitude, and freckled cheeks, she was like a sun outshining the gray thunderclouds that was Gwen.
   "I'm glad you like the bookings. We have to cancel withing a five day period in order to get a refund and since I booked them yesterday I figured there wouldn't be a problem if something were to come up. I've got two side-by-side rooms with a connecting bathroom, so we will have to share, but it won't be horrid."
   "We have to share a bathroom!" Gwen exclaimed, as if this was going to completely ruin her seven days six nights trip to a foreign country known for its arts, cuisine, and romance.
    "It was the best I could do, last minute. I did book the larger room under the name Kinnely instead of Janes, too, so you get a slightly nicer room."
    "That's so sweet of you, thanks." Rosie gushed. "Of course, I booked us plane tickets. We leave tomorrow at one pm and should check in and everything an hour or so prior to that time."
     "I've got my bags packed and figure we could swing by Gwen's around ten."
     "Sounds good." Gwen nodded, not bashing my idea.
     "I have to use the ladies, do you know where it is?" Rosie's cheeks turned a shade of red to match her pixie cut, as she asked.
     "Through the Family Life & Child Toys exhibit, to the right, down the stairs, and you'll see it." Gwen pointed through an arch to an exhibit that had vintage doll houses, a satin and lace baby's night gown, and even a miniature replica of a tractor. As soon as Rosie was out of sight, she turned towards me. "Now Hazel," She slyly said, scooting closer to me. "You know this trip is really romantic, right?"

  "I assumed it was for you two, considering the location."
  "You assumed right. Maybe we could find you a little boyfriend. I know that you're single and looking to play matchmaker with Rosie and I, so I figured maybe we should get you a French one nightstand or even a long term BF."
   "I did hear a rumor that the French make high quality furniture... of course, not as good as the Swedes. I really should go to IKEA sometime and buy more bedroom furniture. Thanks for reminding me."
    "Haha, you're hilarious. You know what I mean. A BF." She began talking slowly, like you would to a toddler who's just learning English. "Boooyyyffrriieeennnd. Bbbbooooyfffrrriennd. Beeeee-efffff."
    "Actually, I'd prefer you find me a petite amie, but beggars can't be choosers, I suppose."
    "A what?"
    "Petite amie. You know, girlfriend. Did you not take French in high school?"
    "Ghlac mé an Ghaeilge, is ní Frainc."
    "What language is that?"
    "Irish. I took that instead of French."
    "They offered that language? That sounds really neat... I thought it was just German, Spanish, and French."
    "If you- never mind. My schooling isn't the point. You're into girls?!"
    "Actually, I'm into ladies who are of legal age, not children, but I have a feeling that that isn't your point."
    "Stop being so damn witty!" She shouted, jumping up from the bench.
    "Sorry, gee, calm down." I stood up, trying to calm her down. "You know, Rosie may be the redhead, but you've got the fiery temper."

   "You've into Rosie. I can't believe she didn't tell me that she was rooming with a lesbian. I'm against moving in together before marriage and what does she do? Move in with someone who she could cheat on me with!"
    "I assure you, even if I was into Rosie, I wouldn't mess with you and her. Besides, you should trust her more. We've lived together for six months and neither of us has hit on one another."  That was a teeny white lie. Technically I had hit on her by giving her flowers the day I toured her, but we weren't living together yet, so it didn't count. It was also true that I had a crush on the redhead Rosie, but she didn't need to know that. I wasn't lying when I said I wouldn't dare mess with their relationship; as long as Rosie was happy with Gwen and wanted to continue dating her, I wouldn't suggest that her and I do anything vaguely romantic together.
   "I trust Rosie, but I sure as hell don't trust you! I read in the paper that you're the daughter of that wanna be mayor and his barely legal slutty girlfriend."
   "Do NOT insult my mother. Look, go ahead and bash Booker, he's a giant d-bag, but my mother? Off limits. Too far."
    "Hey, hey, what's going on?" I heard Rosie saying, as she walked up to our little girl fight.

    "Hazel's a lesbian."
    "Yep, known that for awhile. I'd also like to point out that so are you and me. Just calm down and don't be an intolerant bastard who is anti-LGBT. We don't need any verbal hate crimes."
     "I'm not! I'm just saying that if you wanted to, you could cheat on me with your roommate."
     "If I wanted to cheat on you, I wouldn't need Hazel to do so. Just putting that out there."
     "Can we calm down?" I said. "We're all going to France tomorrow and I promise that if we all apologize and say that we didn't mean any of it, just this once, we'll all forget it and have a great time."
     "No, Hazel, I won't forget it. I can't believe someone I think I love would talk like that to my friend who I happen to be living with. I won't stand for rudeness."
     "Rudeness?! Hate to break it to you, hon, but calling me a bastard wasn't cotton candy and rainbows." 
     "Don't be one and I won't call you one!"
     "That's the worst logic. I'm not going  to France with you if Hazel comes."
     "Fine, this isn't Hazel's fight. It's mine and yours. I'm going and so is she."
     "Please, relax. Don't break up because of this silly like this, just take a deep breath, count to ten, then talk." I quickly said, hoping it would help.
     "It won't work." Gwen said, but she still took a deep gasp of air. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Yeah, I was right. I'm still pissed and not going to France."
      "We aren't breaking up... are we?"
      "No. I won't let this bitch break us up, like she wants."
      "Stop it, stop it! I said no calling Hazel bad stuff."
      "Live with it, because I will! Look, maybe we need to spend a week apart. We'll talk afterwards, see where this goes."
       "Apologize to her, first."
       "Never." Rosie, tears in her eyes, turned and began running to the stairs. I followed her; she was my ride after all. We rode in silence to home, Rosie sniffling the whole way. When we arrived, she ran up the stairs, to her room. Why oh why did I have to mess things up for her? Why?
      

Rosie Kinnely's POV...

   I lay on my bed bawling, a book in my hands. I was reading some crime novel that belonged to Gwen. It was  about a computer technician who was hired by the local police force to reconstruct a computer and get data off of it. The computer had been thrown into the pier, with the body of the murdered person. They weren't sure if it belonged to the prime suspect or the tragically deceased. I was half way through and very intrigued about how it was going to end. I needed something to keep my mind off of the events that had happened a few hours ago.
  "Rosie?" I heard Hazel knocking at the door; it was the third time she had attempted checking on me. Each time I asked her to please let me by myself. My relationship wasn't over, but I still felt like I needed a mourning period to process what had happened. Right now I wasn't processing as much as I was ignoring.
  "Hazel, please, I need time alone."
  "It's ten pm and you haven't ate dinner yet. You need food, so I brought you some vegetable stew made with a celery broth. Everything's from my garden..."
  "I'm not hungry."
  "You love soup."
  "I know... please, can I finish reading my chapter?"
  "Sure, but I'm coming in anyway. I'm going to make sure you eat. You need to be healthy."
  "Fine..." I sighed, secretly happy that she cared about my health. Gwen sure didn't. She gently opened the door, quietly slipping inside my room. She sat the mouth watering soup on my desk, pulling the chair out so she could sit.

   "How's your book?" She asked, her eyes wide.
   "Gwen's. Not mine."
   "Oh... I'm sorry about tonight. It's my fault."
   "No it isn't." I sat the book on my dresser, adjusting the pillows. "Hazel, Gwen's a very jealous person. She's vain and expects be to only be focused on her. She can be really sweet at times, so I usually am lenient when she has a tantrum. Tonight, though she wasn't yelling at me, she was yelling at my friend. I won't stand for that."
   "Thank you , then for standing up to her. I still feel responsible, though... I guess the only one to blame is Gwen."
    "It's hard for me to place blame. She did give my one hundred dollars out of her nose job fund so I could fly to France."
    "She has a nose job fund?"
    "She always hated her nose, said it was too small or something. I thought it was cute. Still think it is." Her nose job fund was an example of vanity, but her taking money out of it was an example of her caring for me.
     "Are you still going there? Paris, France?"
     "I don't know... I mean, the plane tickets are nonrefundable. What do you think?"
     "Go, if you're emotionally stable enough to. It took you months took save up for the tickets and if you don't go, then you'll be set back by even more time."

     "True... should I call her and invite her to fly with us?" My mind was divided. I could call her and we might be able to make up and fly together or we could wait a week.
     "Wait to call. If you guys have a fight here, it's easier to get away then if you were to have a fight in France. I mean you could call, but I'd wait a little and let her cool off. You know her best, what would she do?" I knew exactly what Gwen would do. Wait a week to call me, then suggest we have a night of insane, lustful sex.
     "I should wait. If I call and she ends up yelling, it'll ruin France even more."
     "Don't think of France as ruined, think of it as a fun trip to get away from the tortures of Washington."
     "Appaloosa Plains, Washington... a whole bunch of insane fora state that doesn't have anything."
     "Hey, that should be their new slogan." She laughed. "I mean, Seattle and national parks and all aren't nothing, but they're close enough."
     "Thanks, Hazel." I smiled. I finally felt a little better.
     "For what, Rosie?"
     "Being like this. Caring and ignoring what I said when I wanted to be alone."
     "Very few people actually want to be alone, they want someone, they just don't know who's the right someone."

     "That's the truth." I stood up and reached over to hug her. we were flying to France together. A good friend and a recently romantically confused girl. The optimist in me was thinking: 'How could this possibly not end wonderfully?' Because if you took France and friends and wine, what did you get?  Perfection, if you asked me