1. Heart / War / Toothpaste

1. Heart / War / Toothpaste

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep. Click.

Rosalie turned to face her alarm clock. Was it really 7 am already?

Theo gave a sleepy sigh and rolled over, going back to sleep. That was alright. He didn't need to be up yet anyway.

She sat up, staring down at him in the darkness. He didn't look like an angel. He didn't look peaceful. He looked, she thought fondly, like someone had just stolen his favourite toy and was refusing to give it back,.

With a sigh, she got up and padded to the bathroom. The bedroom's carpet flooring might be difficult to clean, but it was a wonderful feeling to be able to walk on it in the morning without getting frozen by the morning cold.

She went through her morning routine on automatic pilot.
Yesterday had been Theo's last day. Today, he was leaving. She should have done something special, like a party or a big meal with all his friends and family or something, but he hadn't wanted any of that. They had had supper with his parents, he had gone to the pub for a pint with his best mate, but that was it. The last thing he had done before going to bed was check his e-mails whilst on the phone to his baby sister – who would “always be my baby sister, no matter how old you get and how many boyfriends you have, especially when they're as gay as that last one was – if they're gay you're not having sex and I don't have to worry about bashing people's faces in for breaking your heart after sleeping with you. Yes, of course that's a valid concern.”

She didn't even put on a robe to go downstairs. It wasn't cold and her nightie (and old rugby shirt of Theo's that he no longer wore because it was too big) was long enough to be decent.
She made pancake batter before doing anything else. They were Theo's favourite food, and who was she to deny him something so simple?
She checked the fridge, made sure they still had whipped cream (which they did), checked the window sill, made sure they still had mangoes (which they did) and checked the dryer to make sure Theo's lucky boxers were dry (which they were, of course). Everything was fine. Just like she had planned it. She folded the last of the laundry neatly into a basket which she put next to the stairs and stopped, for a moment. Routine was nice, but who was she fooling, really?
At 11.30, in less than 4 hours' time, she would have to drive her husband to the train station, watch him board that 11.55 train to London, where he would meet the other men and women the RAF had called back and they would take another train to King's Lynn, in Norfolk, where they would be bussed to Marham, where they would then decide what to do with him. He would call her in the next few days to tell her where was being deployed to. She hoped it wasn't Afghanistan again.
Theo plodded downstairs, stifling a yawn and stretching as she got to work with making breakfast. They were young. Not as young as they had been, but 35 was still young, and Rosie believed that, while the RAF had taken away some of their years, she and her husband had stayed young in order to make up for that lost time. And now she was rambling.

“Pancakes,” Theo exclaimed sleepily, “excellent.”

She smiled from across the kitchen island, pouring more batter into the pan. He sat down at the counter opposite her, watching the pan carefully.
“Ah, proper pancakes, I approve. None of those crap things.”

“Crêpes, Theo, not crap. They're really good. Well, we'll have to get Marie to make them for you at some point, hers are absolutely delicious.”

“But your pancakes are better.” He smiled that disarming smile at her, still sleepy but utterly loving. She blushed, still, after all this time, and ducked her head, poking at the pancake with a spatula.

“That remains to be seen.”
Theo stood up and set the table, stopping to give her a kiss on the cheek as he collected the mugs.
She ignored his off-key humming as he wove his way around the kitchen, getting out the rest of the breakfast foods. She smiled as he prepared the mangoes (“Mangoes! I love mangoes.”) and brought her a sliver over.
It was that newly-wed feeling all over again, she thought, as he fed her the sliver.
“Tea or coffee?” he asked, hugging her from behind as she flipped the pancake.
“We have been together for, what, sixteen years?”

“And five months.” he added.

“Right. Since you got so drunk that you ended up in the kitchen in my digs, on the floor, on one knee, singing the chorus of 'I Will Always Love You', with Mike making those awful noises in the background.”

Theo smiled and smiled, “And you kissed me to shut me up. I'm glad Mike stuck to the harmonies instead of trying for the lead vocals – maybe you would be making pancakes for Mike today.”
“Right, harmonies. So, sixteen years and five months,” she said, “and you still don't know what drink I like in the morning?”

He brought out the coffee machine, “Well, you never know when you'll change your mind. Your mother told me that when she was pregnant with you, she didn't like the taste of coffee any more and that I should watch out with that for yours.”

Well. That explained a lot.

“Besides, I used to drink tea before I realised you had 'real coffee' every morning.”

“You drank tea?” Sixteen years and she was still learning about him.
“But you hate the taste of unsweetened tea, which is how I liked it, so I stopped.”

She got the pancake onto the stack of other ones, put the pan down, walked over to where Theo was, and kissed him soundly, holding his face in her hands.

“I love you.” she said, hoping he would know how much she meant that.

“I love you too.”
He didn't break eye contact. She knew he meant it just as much.

The rest of breakfast went by much too quickly for Rosalie. Oh, it was a wonderful meal, with laughter and good food, but by the time they were finished it was almost 9.30.
They had slowly eaten their mango halves and then moved on to the pancakes, which Theo had covered with more mango and whipped cream. There was no denying her husband was odd, but she wouldn't have him any other way.
She could tell he was nervous about leaving because, without her prompting him, he put the dishes in the dishwasher and dealt with the coffee machine filters. He normally did that at the weekend.
He even took the laundry basket upstairs without her having to mention it.

“Rosie?” he shouted from upstairs as she made him sandwiches for the journey up to the base. “Where are my lucky boxers?”

Yes, that was her husband. She could have laughed.

“In the basket with the clean clothes.”

She heard footsteps as he walked across the landing, probably naked.

“Aha!” came a familiar cry of triumph, “Got them!”

“Well done, dear. We shall celebrate with cake!” she shouted, buttering a slice of bread.

“There's cake?”
His voice was nearer, probably by the stairs, tempted by the offer of cake.

“Not yet, but there can be.”
She knew where he was going with this.

“Yes please! Any chance of lemon drizzle?”
She could almost see the puppy-dog look.

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Excellent. Cake!”

And with that, his footsteps retreated all the way to the bedroom, probably to finish getting dressed.
She shook her head in amusement, then went to check on their lemon situation. Of course they had lemons. She had bought them when she had gone to buy mangoes, water bottles, Terry's Chocolate Orange and whipped cream.
She finished making the sandwiches then dealt with the cake, the measuring keeping her mind off Theo's imminent departure.
Once the cake was in the oven, she made her way upstairs to find her husband in the study, on the computer, looking focused.
She had a shower and got dressed slowly, trying to make herself relaxed. It wasn't working.
According to her alarm clock it was 10.17, which meant she had just over an hour with her husband left.
Theo walked in, counting something on his hands.

“Forgotten something?” she asked.

“Not yet. I just realised I hadn't packed a suitcase, so I was going to do that.”
She nodded, “An excellent idea. Don't forget toothbrush and toothpaste.” Like you did last time.

He gave her a hug and a kiss. He knew what she was thinking.
She went downstairs. She brought in the mail – a couple of ads and the telephone bill – and sat down with the newspaper. Death, disaster and war. She hoped, for the ten-thousandth time, that Theo would never be one of the soldiers she read about in the paper.
The cake came out beautifully and Theo came down before she could call him, just as she was adding the drizzle on top. He said, as he stole a bit of the topping, that he had followed his nose.

She bumped his hip with hers to reprimand the nicking of lemon sugar, but said nothing.
Her mother – and his, for that matter – would be proud if they had known she had made the cake without consulting the recipe. But she had made it so many times for him that she knew the recipe off by heart. It was his favourite after all.
They sat down with a huge slice of cake each. 10. 53, according to the microwave.
“Have you packed a comb?”
“Yes, dear.”

“Underwear and socks?”

“Of course.”

“Tickets, money, phone, keys?”

“In my jacket pocket, in my wallet, in my pocket, in the bowl in the hall.”
“Alright then.” She poked at her cake with the fork, watching the slice wobble before it collapsed on itself and fell on its side.
“This is delicious.” said Theo, looking happy as he sat back in his chair, piece of cake half-devoured.
“Of course,” she replied, flipping her hair back in mock-vanity, “what else would it be?”

He grinned at her, a stripe of lemon rind stuck in his teeth.
It wasn't funny, but it made her giggle anyway.
They laughed until it was time to go.
He double-checked he had his travel documents and packed his lunch away in the backpack (“Terry's Chocolate Orange! Yes!”), taking two bottles with him, just in case.
She went to start the car as he collected his suitcase from upstairs.
They drove in silence, but try as she might, Rosalie couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound stupid. She felt 19 all over again, on their first date alone.
She parked outside the station, feeling slightly desperate.

They walked in, the clock said 11.47 and she couldn't see his train on the platform, which meant they had enough time to say goodbye properly.
He leant his suitcase and backpack against the barrier and the moment he turned round he had swept her into a kiss.
“Remember I love you, alright?”

She nodded, hugging him closer, “And I love you. Don't die, please.”

“I won't. How could I die when I know you're here waiting, with cake?”

Her laughter was forced out despite the tears that were welling up.
“I'll call you tomorrow.”

Another kiss.

Fighting sobs, she watched her husband walk away from her and towards the RAF for the third time in her life. She couldn't hate them, they had paid for his university fees, so they were partly responsible for making them meet. They had looked after him well so far, and she could only hope they continued to do so.

As the train came into the platform, she could hear the awkwardly strained notes of Theo's singing, “And Iiiiiiiii-eeeh-iiii, will aalwaaays luuuuuhve youuuuuuuuuuuuuu...”

She waved madly at the train as it left the station.
The rest of the day went by without much fuss, punctuated only by the occasional text message.
“I forgot my watch. I knew there'd be something. There always is. Arriving in 10 minutes.”
“Tube is SO CROWDED! It's not even rush hour and I'm squished between a woman with a baby and a man in a business suit.”
“Make sure you remember to post that letter to John, I was supposed to remind you earlier. Oops!”
“You should have spinach pie for supper. Get Toula to come round and make it, you'll have fun.”

“Arrived at the base. I love you, Rosie. I'll see you soon.”

If you were to ask her what she had done that day, she wasn't sure she would be able to answer.

She got home late that night, it was already dark. She had in fact had supper with Toula, but at her house rather than here, because Toula was looking after her nephews for the week while their parents were on holiday. Spinach pie was her speciality, and they had ended with slices of Rosalie's lemon drizzle cake. Toula had hugged her and told her that she was only a phone call away if she was needed.
Rosalie locked the door, dropped her bag on the counter in the kitchen and dragged herself upstairs, chucking her shoes to one side as she undressed.
She reached the bathroom in Theo's rugby shirt and socks, running a hand through her hair. She stopped in her tracks when she caught sight of the mirror.

There was a huge heart drawn out of toothpaste on it. To the left of the heart, also in toothpaste, was a message.
“My love for you will last longer than the heart I drew, and Colgate would be proud.”

She smiled, the first time that day since he had left, and tried to wipe a smudge off. She couldn't.

Theo had covered the toothpaste heart in clear polish. It was permanent.
Rosie bet that he could hear her laughing all the way from Norfolk.