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It was watching Grease, of all things, that had prompted Luisa into a profound rumination on her relationship with Rose. The song Summer Lovin’, in particular.
She’d been in her room at the Marbella, exhausted after a long day of back-to-back-meetings but still too wound up to sleep, and thought that a few hours of Netflix therapy was in order. She should’ve known that a romance movie would be bad idea – she’d avoided them ever since things had blown up with Rose, years ago now – but she’d never been able to resist a good musical.
When she’d heard the song, she couldn’t help but thinking of her own summer romance with Rose, or the time in their tumultuous relationship that had come closest to it.
The night they met fit the description well enough. She remembered the energy, the thrill of excitement she’d gotten when Rose had walked in the bar – it was something she hadn’t felt in a while, something she’d almost given up looking for. The attraction had been instant and effortless, impossible to resist.
(Of course – that would work to her detriment later on.)
She’d been lost the moment Rose hadn’t batted her eye when Luisa had revealed she was an alcoholic.
After that, it had been fireworks. Kisses and sex and small touches, each of which had ignited a passion in them both that had burned brighter and louder than the fireworks in the background.
It had felt like that for a while after, even when she’d found out that Rose was engaged to her father. She’d known how her father’s relationships had worked, knew that they barely lasted longer than a couple of months. She’d held out hope, hope that Rose would leave him, hope that they’d run away together, hope that they’d hold on to their summer love.
The song had been right when it claimed that it happened so fast. Looking back, that time felt like the blink of an eye. Soon enough, they’d reached autumn.
Luisa thought the biggest sign their autumn had well and truly begun was her gradual change in outlook. She’d slowly accepted that Rose wasn’t going to run away with her, that maybe they wouldn’t get their happily ever after, after all. She kept making the offer, kept foolishly hoping that she’d change her mind, but she no longer expected the answer she wanted.
But that was okay – autumn may not be as pretty as summer, but it was beautiful in its own way. Some would argue that it was better than its more overrated counterpart. They’d certainly had their moments, and Luisa had fooled herself into believing that she’d be content with it.
She should have known that it wouldn’t last.
Winter had been long, and it had been harsh. At times, she’d thought there was no emerging from it. Catastrophe had followed catastrophe until it had felt like there was nothing left. It had all started that day in her office, when she’d inseminated Jane and had her livelihood revoked by an email. Rose had been a solace in those very early days, but by getting involved with her again Luisa was only setting herself up for an even harder fall, an even longer winter.
Because Rose was Sin Rostro. She’d killed her father, had her committed to a mental institution, kidnapped her nephew, committed any number of horrible deeds. Finding out about all of that had felt like walking on to ice without any protection, only a hundred times worse.
And that hadn’t even been the hardest part of the season.
If discovering the extent of her crimes had felt like walking over a patch of ice barefoot, then seeing Rose’s lifeless body on the floor of that hospital had been like plunging right through it into the icy depths below.
She’d struggled through the water for months afterwards, alcohol becoming her only solace. But that had only numbed the pain, not removed it entirely. When she’d decided to go back to rehab – possibly the only sensible decision she’d made in months – she’d had to unpack those feelings, feel their icy burn once again.
But winter didn’t last forever. Eventually – even if it felt like it might not – spring would come. And it did for Luisa.
She felt the first glimmer of spring when Rose had pulled off the mask. It had only been a glimmer – she still had too many questions, carried around too much hurt – but it had been a start.
That glimmer had grown, the more time they spent together, the more they talked about their problems.
They were together for a glorious three years after that, and they were happy.
When Rose had been arrested outside of the Marbella, Luisa thought she’d felt the icy hand of winter return, but this time – this time she would not let it. She would not get pulled under again. Rose was not dead, and Luisa could still call and visit when she felt like it. It was a mere spring shower, compared to what she’d already been through.
Rose was due to get out soon – her lawyer had managed to work some kind of magic, and had managed to get her sentenced for some of the more trivial things she’d done while the more serious crimes were swept under the rug.
Normally, such a failing of the justice system would make Luisa angry, make her fume – but just this once, she was happy.
Her winter had ended long ago, and she was ready to resume her long and happy spring.