Everything was different the last time Rosalin saw Alessandra: her living situation, her looks, even her name. Back in high school, Rosalin was miserable struggling against the life her parents planned for her, one that would never allow for her to have feelings for another girl. Four years later, Rosalin and Alessandra run into each other again, and they have so much to catch up on.
Finally free from her abusive household, Rosalin was able to change her name and start over. All this time she had never forgotten the friend who encouraged her to rebel, the girl she had looked up to and admired in every way. But has this new beginning given Rosalin the courage to admit her crush? Or is it still too soon to tell Alessandra how she feels?
Rosalin nearly caused a pile-up on the sidewalk. The person behind her only grazed her arm as they adjusted to move around where she had frozen in her tracks, and the other people who likewise had to avoid her gave her weird looks in passing. Rosalin didn’t care. She tucked a loc of freshly dyed hair behind her ear and strained to listen. There it was again. The drowsiness she had felt after sitting around in the beauty salon for so long evaporated in an instant, replaced by sudden hope and longing.
That laugh. Rosalin could never forget it. Like a songbird trying to imitate a whooping crane or vice versa. Only one person in the world laughed like that. It was the laugh Rosalin hoped she would hear again one day. It was the laugh of simpler yet far more fraught times. It was the laugh she had fallen in love with. She put away her phone -- the text she had been typing up to her aunt could wait -- and rushed to where she had heard that unmistakable laugh.
A group of young women were walking towards the shopping center from the parking lot. There, still the center of everything, still wearing rhinestone-rimmed hoop earrings partially hidden in her wavy dark brown hair, still striding confidently in wedge-heeled boots, still causing a flutter in Rosalin’s chest, was Alessandra.
“Alie?” Rosalin called out.
Alessandra paused and turned, not convinced someone could have meant her. But then her eyes met Rosalin’s. Rosalin smiled and gave her a little wave. Alessandra gasped. “Missy!” she cried, sprinting over to her. She all but tackled Rosalin to the ground with the force of her hug. “Oh my God! Missy, I never thought I’d see you again!”
Rosalin hugged Alessandra tight. She smiled wider. “Actually it’s Rosalin now.”
With another gasp, Alessandra held Rosalin at arm’s length. She looked her up and down, mouth agape, eyes darting from her hair to her outfit to the expression of real happiness on her face. “Does that mean ... you got out?”
Rosalin pranced excitedly in place and nodded with a gleeful squeal.
Alessandra pulled her into another hug, jumping up and down with her. Her earrings sparkled as joyfully as her smile. “Congratulations!” she exclaimed. “Fuck, I’ve been so worried about you all these years! After the party when I didn’t hear from you I thought your parents had sent you to jail or a conversion camp or ...” Her voice trailed off as she hugged Rosalin more protectively.
“They tried,” Rosalin said bitterly. She didn’t want to dwell on that. She had Alessandra in her arms again. Though her life had improved these past couple of years, her biggest regret and shame had been that she never reconnected with Alessandra, the girl who had opened up the world beyond the dollhouse of a life Rosalin’s parents had set up for her.
The rest of Alessandra’s group caught up to them. Alessandra did a quick round of introductions, finishing with Rosalin herself. “This is my best friend from middle school, the one I said who disappeared during our junior year of high school.”
Emira, a full-figured girl in a denim jacket over a casual dress, clutched the strap of her shoulder bag tighter. “Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “No offense, but a bunch of us thought you were gonna end up mentioned in a true crime podcast or something.”
“Or, y’know, a girl matching your description,” added Jeanne, the taller girl with skin a deeper brown than Alessandra’s. “Glad to find out you didn’t become another statistic.”
