Rowena stood sideways before the mirror. She hated being old. Sure she followed a very strict regimen of diet and beauty ethics but they will hold on only for so long. She realised that she had taken to make close scrutiny of her own face and body and find everything unsatisfactory to the degree that she did not feel like going out. She was half convinced that people could actually make out her many defects and would call her on it. It was a shuddering idea, and even when she realised that she was just being morbid, the thoughts would not leave.
It is then she would pick up her brush and draw harsh paintings with horrible monsters and creepy fey children who always managed to look like his son Fergus. Oh how he hated that name, repeatedly saying that she named him after fungus. Rowena told him that he was named for a great ancestor. Fergus was not impressed and the day he turned 18 he went ahead and changed his name to Mark. What an unremarkable name the boy choose. Rowena still called him Fergus to his face though to make a point, relenting enough not to do it in front of company.
A loud thud rang through her apartment. Rowena cocked her ears to make out what it was. When ungodly music started pouring from her neighbours’ room, the thin walls hardly helping, she made a mental appointment to take some of her Irish brandy over to Josie. For now, the music was a good choice as she set her brush to paper and drew macabre symbol and weird beasts. Josie must have had a bad day. She is much younger to Rowena’s 55, but she has this old soul and eyes that look even older than Rowena’s own, as if she had seen stuff no one else should.
Josie owns a nice little bakery near the city that made well enough business. It was called ‘Hellishly Good’. They sold freshly brewed coffee, cakes and pies, pies being Dean Smith’s doing, cookies, and confectionaries. They carried nothing brand made and had a loyal clientele who swore by the awesome taste. Rowena had partaken enough from what Abbadon sometimes brings for her and what Fergus used to buy when his crush on Dean Smith was at its height.
Rowena thought that he had dodged a bullet when he gave up on Dean. But then he introduced his boyfriend Bobby who was incidentally Dean’s cousin, who always wore a filthy cap and didn’t talk much. Rowena had been appalled. Realising her mistake, she had tried to redirect Fergus back into Dean’s arms, but Dean himself got a new boyfriend, an oddball named Castiel Collins who worked at the same bakery. However over the years, Rowena had to admit that Bobby was good for Fergus and truly loved each other, and while she was okay being a snob, she was always on the side of love.
Two hours later, after the music had died down, Rowena headed to Josie’s apartment, s steaming bowl of stew in her hand and a small bottle of whiskey held under her arms and knocked on her door. Josie opened her door after a few second and when she saw the bowl presumably filled with food and the glint of a bottle under it, she stepped to the side and let Rowena in.
“Bad day, love?”
“Yeah... We had an accident. Garth, this gangly kid who Dean vouched for, set half of the kitchen on fire. He was of course banned from ever entering the premises. I had a mind to fire Dean as well, but then the guys from the fire brigade, let me know that it was damn lucky that it the kitchen caught fire. There were exposed wires all around from the shop near us and anyone could have been electrocuted. I have insurance, but the shop has to be closed for a week or so,” said Josie with a tired look on her face.
Rowena was back from her kitchen with a spoon and handed the bowl to her. Muttering a slight ‘thanks’ Josie sipped at the thick broth and hummed in appreciation.
“This is really tasty Rowena. Maybe you should come and wave your magic on my shop as well. I am sure people will love your food,” said Josie in between bites.
“No way love, I have had enough of cooking for hordes. But I can give you some recipes you can try. I am too old for all that hustle and bustle of a shop,” said Rowena with a slight smile.
“Oh please, you are not old at all. What are you? Like 45? Big deal. I am 33. Old is 90 or 100 for us,” Josie said with a serious look on her face as she waver her spoon at Rowena.
Rowena felt a secret thrill at the mistaken age and decided not to correct Josie. Hardly seemed to matter. Maybe she will in fact go out today and get some new dresses. Inheriting money late in life certainly had its perks. She said, “You enjoy your stew love, I will let myself out. I have some shopping to do. See you tonight for our movie marathon yes?”
“Yes yes absolutely. I even bought the wine you like to sip along. Wear something sexy hey?” Josie laughed at her with a cheeky smile.
“Maybe I will,” Rowena winked at her and closed the door after her. Josie stared after her and wondered how it would feel like to taste those age darkened lips, and then shook her head. Rowena does not think of her like that. Maybe a younger sister. Still she couldn’t stop from flirting with her a bit and hoping that she flirts back. Rowena always did and Josie would feel warm later remembering that she did. After she was done with the stew, she put it in her sink and fell on the bed to sleep for a bit. If she dreamed of kissing Rowena breathless, no one had to know.