The Complex Art of Rosie

Introduction

  "She's a little different than people, maybe even a little slow but she is a good person and has done nothing wrong here, officer."

  Rosie fiddled with her fingers, not tearing her gaze away from her hands. She didn't have the courage to look up and meet anyone's eyes.

  "Maybe you shouldn't call her slow," Anthony murmured softly, speaking to his best friend in a quiet voice although he knew Rosie could still hear them talking about her. Rosie was used to hearing people talk about her, making assumptions and judgments, having opinions formed on her before even being spoken to directly.

  Tamara sighed. She bit the inside of her cheek as she looked at her cousin, Rosie. "I'm sorry. It's just that I know she's a little... odd. I can assure you she means no harm nor has she done anything wrong." Tamara tried to convince the officer to drop any charges against her cousin, who had been caught 'breaking into' a library. But that wasn't the full story.

  The officer narrowed his eyes, eyeing down Rosie. "She mute or something?"

  Rosie kept her gaze down, trying to bite back the choking urge to start crying.

  "No," Tamara gritted, her gaze on the officer turning into a glare. "I told you, she's different than most people."

  "Right," the officer grumbled, not seeming convinced. "What was she doing breaking into public property?"

  "She wasn't," Tamara told him calmly, knowing Rosie wouldn't be able to explain herself. "She works here."

  The officer scoffed. He was having a hard time buying the story Tamara was selling him, although everything Tamara was saying was the truth.

  "I'm sorry for all this trouble, officer Parks." Now, Anthony was the one to cut in. He knew that if the officer said one wrong thing about Rosie, Tamara's fuse would blow. Anthony thought it'd be best to handle this situation himself. "Rosie does work here, we can show you her work ID if you want but the fact that she has a key to the library should explain that itself."

  "Why was she here after hours?" The officer kept shifting his gaze back to look at Rosie oddly.

  "Cleaning up after hours before closing up and heading home," Anthony explained, glancing at Rosie from the corner of his eye. He could tell she wanted to be anywhere but here. He felt sympathy for how embarrassed she must be feeling right now.

  Officer Parks paused for a long moment as he continued to peer at Rosie. He finally exhaled deeply and turned to look at Anthony and Tamara again. "My niece has some... social anxiety problems. Speech therapy can be a lot of help."

  Tamara opened her mouth to speak but before she could, Anthony placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her.

  "Appreciate the advice, officer." Anthony offered a forced smile.

  The officer only nodded curtly before turning and walking away.

  "What a fucking prick," Tamara snapped, glaring at the back of the officer's head as he walked away from the three of them. "Speech therapy?"

  Rosie finally looked up, not looking at her cousin or Anthony. She tilted her head, exhaling slowly as she watched the officer get into his police car. She still felt like she was going to start crying any second now.

  "You okay?" Anthony's eyebrows pulled together as he looked at Rosie, wondering how she was feeling right now.

  Rosie only nodded her head in response, not looking at him. She then started walking away.

  Tamara shook her head, exhausted as she quickly caught up to her cousin. "You don't have to walk home, Rose. Anthony will drive us tonight."

  Rosie stopped in her tracks, looking straight ahead into the dark night sky as she debated. She then shrugged her shoulders and turned to follow her cousin to Anthony's car. The car ride was mostly quiet. The radio played music, the volume low. Tamara and Anthony sat in the front, quietly speaking in tones so hushed that Rosie couldn't hear what they were saying although she wasn't paying attention anyways. She stared out the window and watched the trees blur together as they drove down the vacant streets.

  Anthony looked at Rosie through the rear-view mirror, sighing softly when he saw the tired and sad look on her face. "Is she going to be okay after all that?"

  Tamara shrugged, her face blank. Tonight wasn't the first time she had to explain Rosie to someone else. "I don't know. Whether or not she is okay, I can't tell either way."

  Anthony nodded, sulking his shoulders. He had been best friends with Tamara for as long as he could remember. He knew Rosie was unusual and Tamara was the only person she really had. He didn't know Rosie well, nobody did, but Anthony felt sorry for her. He had known her long enough to have gathered a well-enough understanding of how Rosie was - quiet, shy, incredibly introverted.

  Very shortly, Anthony had pulled up to Rosie and Tamara's apartment complex. Rosie grabbed her bag and headed out of the car before Anthony could even put the car in park. She murmured a quiet 'thank you' and was out of the car before Anthony or Tamara could say anything.

  "Thanks for tonight," Tamara sighed, turning to look at her best friend. "I know it's complicated but if you hadn't cut in, I'd probably be the one getting arrested."

  Anthony grinned, nudging Tamara softly. "She's lucky to have you, Tam."

  Tamara smiled but it didn't reach her eyes. She never would admit it, and she hated that she even thought it, but sometimes it was difficult and exhausting having to look out for Rosie. She wanted to protect her cousin but sometimes she didn't know how to.

  Rosie never asked for any sort of help. In fact, she wanted the opposite. Rosie would much rather be left alone but Tamara was always too concerned for her.

  Tamara muttered a quick goodbye before heading out of the car and catching up to Rosie, the two of them silently riding the elevator up to their floor.

  Later that night, before Tamara was headed to bed, she stuck her head into Rosie's room. Rosie was sitting at her desk with her sketchbook out, her hands working a mile a minute as she sketched and shaded and drew.

  Tamara smiled faintly. "Goodnight, Rosie."

  Rosie didn't look up from her sketchbook, or stop her sketching for even a second.

  "Night."