3

What You Think of Yourself

Rosie was in the kitchen eating cereal the next morning, like she would every day. She held the book she was reading in her left hand while she used her right hand to pop spoons filled with cereal into her mouth.

The front door of the apartment opening sounded and Rosie knew it was Anthony. He was around a lot, since he was best friends with Tamara. Rosie expected him to show up whenever he wanted, like he always did. She didn't think much of it. She usually did her own thing, staying in her room, not talking to Anthony much.

Anthony walked into the kitchen, smiling when he saw Rosie. "Morning, early bird."

Rosie looked over her shoulder to see Anthony walking further into the kitchen. He usually greeted her but there was never much more than that. She offered a smile before turning back to her book.

"Is Tam awake yet?"

Rosie shook her head in response, her eyes staying glued on her book.

Anthony sighed, not being surprised that his best friend was still sleeping. He hopped up onto the counter that was across from Rosie, sitting so he was facing her.

Rosie peaked her eyes above the book to look at him, just to see he was already peering at her. She quirked an eyebrow.

Anthony grinned. "I think the last time I read a book was in the fifth grade."

Rosie smiled a little, placing the book down. "You can eat the pancakes."

Anthony's face flashed with confusion. "What?"

She nodded her head towards the plate stacked with pancakes on the counter. "Breakfast for Tamara who probably won't wake up anytime soon."

Anthony beamed a bright smile, easily tempted. He reached over to grab the plate without getting off the counter. He helped himself to open the drawer he knew the utensils were in, plucking out a fork to start eating the pancakes that weren't made for him.

Rosie was slightly surprised, although she had made the offer. She went back to scanning her book, trying to find the sentence she left off on. The two of them sat in silence and ate their own breakfasts; Rosie stayed busy reading her book while Anthony found himself intrigued as he watched her read. Only a few minutes later, Rosie could feel his strong and piercing gaze burning into her skin. She looked up once again, confused when he was still peering at her.

She gave him a questioning look, growing slightly self-cautious.

Anthony's face grew red when he got caught staring at her. He cleared his throat. "Pancakes are real good. Why eat cereal yourself when you're making pancakes for Tam anyways?"

Rosie shrugged, again placing her book down. "I like cereal better."

"Than pancakes?" Anthony laughed, his eyes flashing with disbelief at the idea. "Don't get me wrong, I don't mind Froot Loops for a midnight snack but how can one say no to pancakes?"

Rosie looked down at her bowl of soggy cereal. She wanted to give him the simple truthful answer: 'I don't like big meals in the morning, they make me nauseous'. But she convinced herself that sounded weird and more information than Anthony needed to know.

Instead, she shrugged yet again. Her best response.

Anthony placed his empty plate down beside him, tilting his head as he looked at her. "Maybe I'm asking too much, feel free to shoot me a look that will tell me to shut up."

Rosie glanced at him, raising her eyebrows. She didn't know why he would want to continue talking to her, or what he could possibly want to know.

Anthony licked his lips, hesitating as he decided how to word his thoughts. "You don't like it when Tam gets all defensive about you, do you?"

Rosie paused, taken aback by the question. He was spot on and she was surprised he picked up on that. She shook her head softly. "No, I don't like it."

"Can I ask why?"

Rosie clenched her jaw, looking down at the remaining milk left in her bowl.

"I'm used to people thinking certain things about me, seeing me as a freak or just as someone who is odd. I've heard all that people could possibly have to say about me. I know I'm weird myself, and I don't know how to change who I am. I can't picture myself as anyone else anyways. I don't want Tamara fighting my fights for me. It's been long enough for me to expect people to see me as a weirdo, as a freak, as someone odd and complicated. Long enough for me to expect it and not care because it's just who I am. Tamara makes me feel like I'm broken, when I'm not. I'm just the way I am. I don't want to feel like a charity case. When she gets mad at people or starts to defend me or explain my ways, I feel even more messed up, I feel like I'm an embarrassment or a disappointment even more than I normally feel that way anyways. If someone needs to explain the way you are as an excuse so people don't automatically think you're a nut-job, it makes you feel like you're messed up and need fixing. I want to believe that it is okay for me to be the way I am, even if it's not ideal. I want to believe I'm okay and don't need fixing, but sometimes people make me feel like being flawed means I can't be enough and I want to be enough for who I am."

That was the dialogue that ran through Rosie's head. It wasn't the first time she knew exactly how to explain herself. That was how she wanted to answer Anthony because it was how she felt, it was the truth.

"I don't care what people think about me. I don't need defending." She spoke quietly, her tone void of any emotion. She stood and brought her bowl over to the sink to rinse it out, ignoring that Anthony was on the counter right beside her.

She placed both her and Anthony's dishes in the dishwasher before walking back to grab her book.

She was walking out of the kitchen when Anthony spoke again. "What you think of yourself is much more important than what other people think of you."

Rosie's stopped walking, her back facing him. I might not care what other people think of me, she thought, but that doesn't mean I think any better of myself.

"It's good," he said, his tone warm. "That you don't care. Some of us only ever wish to not care so much what other people think."

Rosie paused in her tracks for a moment longer before she finally walked out of the kitchen and back into her bedroom.

*

Rosie was occupied in her room with her sketchbook out, laying on her stomach on her bed as she sketched away.

"Rosie!" Tamara yelled from the kitchen, her voice evidently frustrated.

Rosie grumbled, not moving from her spot as she turned up the volume of her music and let her headphones deafen her with the blasting music.

"You asshole," Tamara crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Anthony was nonchalantly flipping through the tv channels. "Those were my pancakes!"

Anthony scoffed, amused by his best friend and not afraid to show it. "I've been here for three hours and you just woke up. Not my fault I got to them first."

"Rosie!" Tamara whined like a little child, practically stomping her feet. She was extra cranky when she woke up, even if it was after noon.

Rosie didn't have any intention of moving. Her earbuds were in, loud enough to block out most of Tamara's wailing whines. Rosie was lost in another world as she blankly sketched away in her book.

The least Rosie would ask for was a knock on her door, mainly so unwanted guests wouldn't barge in or so that her drawing wouldn't get ruined if she got startled.

Of course Tamara failed to respect that wish.

Rosie's room door went flying open, Tamara looking disheveled as she entered. "You gave him my pancakes."

Rosie didn't look up from her sketchbook.

"Rosie!" Tamara cried out, like the little child she continued to act like.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Tam." Anthony appeared, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked at Tamara in amusement, growing more amused when he saw how unconcerned Rosie seemed.

Hearing the other voice, Rosie grew cautious and looked up at Anthony. She sat up straight, crossing her legs criss-cross and shutting her sketchbook. Rosie looked between Anthony and Tamara, suddenly annoyed that both of them were here and in her personal space. She didn't ask for the company.

Anthony's eyebrows raised as he stood straighter and looked around Rosie's room, intrigued and in awe at the artwork taped up on her walls. "Wow," he exhaled. "This is amazing. Did you make all these yourself?"

Sure, he had been in their apartment many, many times, but Rosie's room was always off limits. Even to Tamara, most of the time. Rosie bounced out of her bed, shifting around her room as if her small body could shield away the whole room from all peering gazes.

Tamara stuck out her bottom lip. "Can we make mac and cheese or something? I don't feel like ordering take-out."

Rosie exhaled sharply as she started to leave her room, knowing the two would leave if she did. It was the only way to get them out of her room, more importantly Anthony. "Fine."

Tamara bounced happily, following Rosie out of the room. It was just what Rosie expected.

Anthony lingered for a moment longer, looking around the room one last time before also turning and following the girls. "You're really talented, Rosie."

Rosie ignored his comment as she pulled out the needed ingredients in the kitchen, making a lunch that she had no interest in eating herself. Rosie did most of the cooking, mostly because she liked cooking and knew that Tamara was the worst cook in the world. The girl could burn water while boiling it - that's how terrible of a cook Tamara was. Rosie sighed as she leaned against the counter and watched the water boil. She had no interest in listening to Anthony and Tamara's child-like taunting and bickering with each other. She wanted her peace and loneliness in the depths of her room that she loved to stay hauled up in. She wanted to get lost into the fantasy worlds she would fall into when she was reading a book. She wanted to create the worlds to get lost into that she would when she started sketching.

"I wouldn't needed the mac and cheese if someone hadn't eaten my pancakes."

Anthony leaned back on the couch and propped his feet up onto the coffee table. "They were kindly offered to me, seeing as you weren't going to consume them any time soon."

"I always sleep in this late and the pancakes always wait for me to wake up!" Tamara retorted back, scowling at Anthony.

Anthony just assumed Tamara was in a mood because she always wakes up cranky, and this time didn't have food waiting for her. Rosie, on the other hand, knew it was actually because Tamara was pms-ing.

Rosie shut her eyes, rubbing her temples as she tried to drown out both their voices. She made the mac and cheese as quickly as she could, wanting to get back to her room and away from all the ruckus.

"Such a good roommate slash cousin you have. Making you food at your beck and call."

"Only because in return, I do other chores," Tamara mumbled, scrolling carelessly through her phone.

"Whatever," Anthony grumbled, rolling his eyes at Tamara. He walked over to stand beside Rosie who was nearly done making the mac and cheese. "Need any help?"

Rosie shook her head, not looking away from the pot on the stove.

Anthony leaned back against the counter, looking at Rosie as she worked away. His eyes lit up with intrigue. "You like cooking?"

She shrugged in response.

Anthony inhaled heavily, a carefree grin resting on his face. "Man, that does smell good. You're an artist and a great cook."

Rosie chewed on the inside of her cheek, annoyed that he had seen her artwork. It wasn't something she necessarily hide, she just preferred to keep it to herself. "Not an artist."

Anthony's eyebrows pulled together as he let out a small laugh. Disbelief was written all over his features. "I saw your room, the work was incredible."

Rosie moved away from him as she pulled out a dish to pour the mac and cheese into. "It's a hobby."

Tamara scoffed, not looking up from her phone. She wasn't paying complete attention to their conversation. "No need to be so humble, cousin dearest. You're amazing, just take the compliment."

Rosie dropped the empty pot into the sink, causing Anthony to flinch at the sudden noise and Tamara to look up from her phone. Rosie looked Tamara in the eye, "You can do the dishes."

"You're not going to eat?" Tamara called out after her as Rosie had already started to head back to her room.

Rosie didn't bother with a response, which Tamara expected anyways. A minute later, Rosie had walked back out of her room but this time, she had her shoulder bag that held her belongings. She grabbed her car keys, heading out of the apartment.

"Rosie," Tamara muttered out in confusion, swallowing down the spoonful of food she had already helped herself to. "Where are you going?"

"Library."

And with that, Rosie had already left.