The Beauty Of Rose

T H E G E O R G I A 4

XX

I DIDN'T SEE MATTHEW for another fortnight.

Leticia became a true companion as the days unfolded. I don't think I'd ever laughed so much with anyone in my life. Maybe I had with the small part of my childhood where my mother had been alive but I certainly hadn't had so much fun in my adult life so far. Leticia was a breath of fresh air. I didn't know how much I needed to breathe until we'd met. And the night before before her departure, I felt myself aching with loss. We were drinking hot tea in my room that night, which was a change from our normal night routine. Nearly every night consisted of some sort of alcoholic beverage, but Leticia had refused to drink to night, and I followed suit.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," Leticia said softly after a lull in the conversation.

"Back to your palace and your dreadful husband and your wonderful Byron."

Leticia winced at the mention of her husband. "Don't remind me of my husband."

"I'm going to miss you." I must've sounded incredibly forlorn, because Leticia peered at me in surprise.

"Good God Rose, I'm not dying. You can always write to me, you know."

I rolled my eyes. "Like the princess will ever reply."

Leticia sipped her tea smugly. "Not with that attitude, I won't."

"I mean it, though." I stared wistfully into my teacup. "You're going to forget all about me."

Leticia shook her head at me. "You think too lowly of yourself, Rose. It won't do. You can't go through life hating yourself, it'll eat you alive."

"I don't hate myself," I replied incredulously, as if it wasn't the god honest truth.

"You do. And you shouldn't need me, a woman you've known all of two weeks, to tell you we'll be life-long friends and write to each other devotedly. You shouldn't need me to tell you that you're worth something...that you mean something. It's unbecoming."

Her words sliced through me like a knife. And the salt to the wound was that everything Leticia said was true. I had the weight of twenty years of self hatred on my back. I knew it wasn't my fault all these hatred had been spooned into me, but I still indulged it. And though Elizabeth had always been a good friend (until recently anyway), she was nothing like Leticia.

I wanted her to pat my hand and promise she'd write letters. I barely had anyone I could call a friend, a loved one. Was it so wrong that I wanted to claim Leticia as one? I brushed my hands against my skirts, absently. "It's been a very long day, Leticia. I think I shall retire now," I replied quietly.

"I don't like writing letters to distant figures," Leticia went on. "It's tiring."

"No one told you had to write anything," I said calmly, but I could feel myself bristling. "Really, I'm ready for bed."

"So I won't be writing regular correspondences to you."

"That's fine," I replied coldly.

Her amber eyes connected with mine. "I throw a great many balls, and one will probably be this weekend. I'll be sure to include an invitation." She took another sip of tea. "It'll be one of many, so be warned."