Author's Note: This a tribute piece to all of the girls who have passed. I've written it in memory of them and I hope I did a good job. Forgive me if any of them seem out of character.
Rose Nylund wasn't very bright.
No, for some reason, she had never been blest with that gift. Not that it mattered much in St. Olaf. There, Rose had learned things she could use in her daily life. Sure, the teachers at St. Olaf had also taught her basic school things, but they also had taught her the important things that she needed to succeed—how to milk a cow, how to put out a fire, how to pick flowers properly, and how to talk to animals. The last one came in handy the other day when she had been chased by the neighbor's dog and she tried to—but that was another story altogether. The fact of the matter was Rose wasn't the sharpest one in the bunch.
That being said, even she knew something was wrong as she got up that Thursday morning. The house was empty and she found that she had been deserted. She sighed as she realized what this meant. Heading towards the kitchen, her suspicions were confirmed as she saw a new cheesecake in the fridge and a note on the table.
Blanche was gone.
It had been Sophia first. The three of the girls woke up one morning to find themselves without their sarcastic older counterpart. Dorothy had panicked and had almost called the police, but they had found a note left by Sophia.
"It was my time," Dorothy had read then, her voice shaking with sadness. "Keep gossiping for me and eating cheesecake. Sorry, I couldn't tell you all this in person, but I love you all. Thanks so much for the memories—Sophia." Back then, the girls hadn't exactly understood what had happened to Sophia, but they all liked to think that she went to a nice place where she was telling silly stories about Sicily and eating her fill of good Italian food.
Months passed and the loss of Sophia, while it still hurt, had lessened gradually. The girls had become a threesome and time passed as time does. Then one morning, Blanche and Rose awoke to find that Dorothy had vanished. Panicking, they rushed to call the police when they saw the note. Sighing, Blanche picked it up and read:
"Sorry, that this is so sudden," Rose and Blanche exchanged a glance and they knew what was coming. "But I had to go. Don't be sad, ok? You are my sisters and I love you, don't forget that. Love always, Dorothy." They had cried after that. Cried and cried as they realized that Dorothy went where Sophia had gone. Eventually, the pain became duller and the two were able to rely on each other to pull through the grief. Rose imagined that Dorothy and her mother were sitting on a park bench. Sophia was sitting, knitting, and Dorothy was telling her things. The sun was always shining there and the two never ran out of things to talk about.
Life went on.
The Golden Girls had been reduced to two. Blanche and Rose did the things that that the four of them used to do—eat cheesecake, gossiped, and watched TV. Rose and Blanche had even taken a trip to Tahiti, per Blanche's request. While Rose didn't enjoy Tahiti as much as Blanche did, she did like the fact that they were still together. She was relieved they still were.
It was last night that they came home and Rose remembers everything about their last conversation perfectly. They had brought in their bags and had unpacked when Blanche had turned to her.
"You know something?" She had started. "On our way home, I felt like Sophia and Dorothy were there with us."
"What do you mean?" Rose had questioned.
"It just felt like . . ." She paused, thinking. "Like they were a row behind us and were talking about things." Blanche then shrugged. "I probably got heat stroke though so I shouldn't be the one to say things like this."
"Well," Rose started, trying to figure out if Blanche was just hearing things or if the two of them had been behind them. She sighed as she realized that this was a question she couldn't answer. "Good night."
And then something strange happened. Blanche rushed over to her and hugged her. Rose felt something of a warning go off in her head.
"Good night, honey," Blanche told her. "And thanks for everything." Blanche had then let go and went to her room. Looking back on it now, Rose realized that she knew it was her time to go. She wished that she would've stayed with Blanche instead of going to her own bed. She just wished—well, she wished a lot of things, but as St. Olaf has taught her "If wishes were fishes . . ."
Blanche's note was shorter than the others and Rose knew that's how she was. Blanche never did stay in one place for too long. She loved running off everywhere and that's why Rose believed that she could never write long messages. Still, Blanche's note everything that needed to be said.
"Thank you for being a friend," Rose read. "Blanche."
"No," Rose mumbled. "Thank you." And with that Rose Nylund went to the fridge and pulled out the cheesecake that they all had loved so much and sat at the table that they all had used to sit at. So many memories were here in this house. So many memories of so many great people. Dorothy's comments that Rose never had gotten, Sophia's tall tales, and Blanche's endless stream of dates. Now, Rose could swear she could almost see them again. Dorothy was checking the fridge for cheesecake while Sophia lectured her about her inability to get a date. Blanche was showing off her latest outfit and was pouting that no one was listening to her.
Rose smiled as the images faded all around her.
Sure, she was the only one left now. Three amazing people had left, but that didn't mean Rose was going to wallow forever. She knew that one day she'd meet them again and for now she had to keep them all in her hearts and keep moving on. Rose Nylund wasn't very bright, but that didn't mean she didn't understand the importance of friends.
"Thank you all," She muttered, standing up. "For everything."
As she headed out onto the patio, she swore she could've heard someone saying:
Author's Note: Review please.