21
Thursday
“Last night,I couldn’t sleep, so I went through some old photo albums you had on the bookshelf,” Diane said over breakfast the next morning. “I hope that was all right.”
“Yes, of course.”
Diane gave a relieved smile. “Good, because I was hoping to ask you a few questions.” She spread out a photo album on the kitchen table, flipping through the pages until she found the picture she was looking for. It was a faded black and white photograph of three young women, all standing in front of the restaurant on the pier.
“This is you, isn’t it?” she asked, pointing to the woman on the left.
“Yes, that’s me,” I said, smiling at the memories that picture stirred.
“And that’s Judy?” she asked, pointing to the woman at the far right.
“Very good,” I said, shocked that she had recognized her. Her hair was longer then, her face soft with youth.
“That must make this Rosalie,” she surmised, indicating the woman in the center.
“Yes, that’s Rosie,” I said, a lump forming in my throat. I hadn’t laid eyes on this picture in years, and the sight of her—young, vibrant, full of life—pulled at a heartstring I thought had hardened over time.
“Can you tell me more about her?” Diane requested softly, her eyes studying the image. “For some reason, I feel this inexplicable pull toward her, as if she has some unfinished story to tell.”
A chill rose the length of my spine, but I did my best to suppress it. I poured myself another cup of coffee and stared at the picture for a few seconds before I spoke. “That picture was taken a long time ago, about six months after I moved to Kitty Hawk. By then, the three of us had become good friends.”
Kitty Hawk, NC
December 1962
“That’s a wrap, girls,” I said, shutting the door and flipping the sign to “Closed.” We had just finished a particularly grueling shift. The holiday crowd had swarmed the restaurant that day, leaving us with little time to catch our breaths.
“What's the plan for tonight?” Judy asked, pulling off her apron and hanging it on the hook behind the door. Her eyes were twinkling with the anticipation of a night out.
“Well,” I began, “we could head over to The Blue Lagoon. They've got a new band playing tonight.”
Rosalie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Not another band. The last one you dragged us to was dreadful. I think I might stay in and write a little.”
“Write? But it’s Friday and the night is still young. I want to go out and do something fun.”
Judy, ever the peacemaker, jumped in and suggested we try the movie theater in Manteo. “I thinkLawrence of Arabiais playing. I’ll even buy the popcorn.”
It wasn’t drinks and dancing, but it beat staying in, so I agreed.
The drive to Manteo was filled with laughter and light-hearted banter, the radio playing softly in the background as Judy navigated the winding roads. The three of us had become more than just coworkers. We were friends. In many ways, they had become the sisters I never had.
We reached the theater just in time for the opening credits, purchasing popcorn and sodas before settling into our seats. As the movie played out on the screen, I glanced over at Rosie and Judy from time to time, their faces illuminated by the flickering images. Rosie was lost in the story, her brow furrowed with an intensity that made me smile. Judy, on the other hand, was chewing her popcorn, her vacant gaze seemingly a thousand miles away. I knew she was probably thinking about Steve, the man from the gas station she’d been seeing.
As the movie reached its climactic end, I felt a strangely fitting sense of melancholy wash over me. Perhaps it was because I knew that these moments were fleeting, that the years would pass us by and our lives would become mere memories, or maybe it was just the inherent sadness of the film’s story. I glanced at the girls, still engrossed in the movie, and felt a sudden surge of gratitude for their companionship. Without them, I didn't know where I would be.
When the movie ended, we shuffled out of the theater, each of us lost in our thoughts. The night air was cool and crisp, carrying with it the lingering scent of popcorn. We strolled down Main Street, past shuttered shops and empty diners, our footstep echoing in the quiet town.
“I think Peter might be the one,” Rosie said as we crossed the street at the stop sign.
Judy laughed. “Good lord, Rosie, you can't be serious. You've only been going out for, what, a month?”
Rosie shrugged, her eyes staring straight ahead as she walked. “I know it sounds crazy, but I just have this feeling.”
“You and your feelings,” Judy said, reaching over to give Rosie a quick squeeze on the shoulder. “Just don’t rush into anything, all right? I mean, Peter’s a handsome guy and all, but you barely know him.”