Rory almost didn't recognize her at first glance.
Sure, it had been a while since she had seen Sam, but the woman walking into diner didn't even move the way Rory's old high school friend did. She practically bounced past the empty beige booths with every step, her coat open and proud, revealing a mini-skirt and scoop-necked top that showed off her curvy, tan figure, despite the chilly Wisconsin autumn outside.
"Rory!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms wide as she drew near. "Ohmigod you actually came back!"
Rory fumbled to stand, only getting halfway before Sam embraced her in a tight squeeze. "I missed you so much!" the exuberant hugger squealed.
"Eh, I uh, missed you too," Rory managed to sputter as her friend released her.
"This is so, so exciting," Sam giggled, taking a seat. "You're working in Chicago now, right? What's life in the big city like?"
"Er, it was good," Rory paused, brushing a strand of her long red hair behind her ear. "But, you know. Busy. And difficult."
"Wait, 'was?'" Sam repeated, frowning with concern. "What do you mean? I thought you lived there."
Rory hesitated, cursing her Freudian slip. She hadn't planned to open their reunion this way but, well...she supposed a woman as sharp as Sam would figure it out eventually. "I actually left a couple weeks ago. For good."
Sam's dark brown eyes widened with shock. "So, wait, are you saying this isn't, like, just a visit? This is, like...for good?"
"W-well," Rory rubbed her arm, "until I can figure something out anyway." She looked away, cheeks reddening with shame. This was a mistake. If Sam didn't already hate her for all the missed calls and texts, she would definitely despise her now. After years of little-no-contact, this was how Rory came back? With nothing to show for all the distance she put between them? If Sam laughed and left right then and there, Rory would hardly blame her.
But, to the humiliated graduate's surprise, she felt the soft warmth of Sam's hand rest on hers. "Tell me everything," the auburn-haired angel advised.
That was all it took for the dam to break.
Words and feelings spilled out of Rory faster than she could process, about how much of a disaster the past few years had been. About how the reason she hadn't called or visited while in college was because she was so tired and busy all the time. About how she had sacrificed friendships and fun for a 4.0 GPA, only to realize she didn't even want a degree in business in the first place. About how her move to Chicago was one of post-grad desperation, a waste of time and money that had pushed tensions with her parents to a breaking point. About how she was only 23, and it already felt like she had wasted her life.
That last bit elicited a gentle laugh from Sam. "Aw, Ro-ro, that's so not true and you know it."
Despite herself, Rory laughed too. Only Sam go to call her that, and she had forgotten how much she missed it. "I guess not," she admitted. "But I dunno...I feel like I spent four years and thousands of dollars to figure out who I am, only to realize I still don't know."
Sam let out a murmur of sympathy before the conversation lapsed into silence. Rory shifted awkwardly, feeling a little abashed about dumping years' worth of grievances on her unsuspecting friend.
"But enough about my problems," Rory said, forcing herself to smile. "How are things with you? You look like you're doing amazing."
"Aw, thank you!" Sam beamed. "It's true though. Like, I don't want to brag, but things have been...like, super good for me lately."
Rory nodded, still caught between being impressed and unnerved by her friend's new groove. Sam had always been more of a shy, nerdy type, the sort to stay up for a Doctor Who marathon rather than an all-night rager. It had really devastated her when she found out she couldn't afford college, a reaction that turned resentful when Rory got into her first choice school. The last time Rory saw Sam, she had sunken into a funk of depression and drugs, working stoned retail shifts while Rory was finishing her honor's thesis.
But oh, how the tables had turned. Now Sam was the fresh-faced gal with the glowing skin and sparkling eyes; meanwhile Rory needed two cups of coffee just to finish her makeup.
Rory sighed. "I have to ask: what's your secret? What turned it all around?"
"It's gonna sound really weird but..." Sam wiggled excitedly in her seat and cast a look over her shoulder, as if privy to some irresistible secret. "Do you remember that arcade we used to go to as kids? The one on Main Street?"
"Joystick Joe's?" Rory asked, incredulous. "Wait, is that place still open?"
Sam bobbed her head up and down. "Uh-huh! I go there every day!"
Rory blinked, baffled. "And...how does that explain the, uh, the glow-up?"
"Well..." Sam bit her fingernail. "Um...how much time do you have? It's a lot easier to show than tell, y'know?"
Rory hesitated. She had told her parents she would be home soon for dinner, but her curiosity had been piqued. There was something both intriguing and unsettling about Sam's demeanor, a nagging mystery that would keep Rory up at night unless she got to the bottom of it.
"Okay," Rory agreed. "Show me."
_______________________________________
True to Sam's word and against all odds, the blue neon sign of Joystick Joe's was blinking just as brightly as Rory remembered. The storefront, however, had seen better days: the windows were dusty and cracked, and displayed warped, faded standees for games whose publishers had long since gone bankrupt.
It wasn't the most welcoming of sights but, Rory had to admit, there was something quaintly nostalgic about it. And it was more endearing than the "for lease" signs stretching down the rest of the leaf-strewn streets.
The arcade proper was actually down a set of stairs in an expansive basement: a dark, cavernous room filled with flashing lights and 8-bit sounds. In the past, a cacophony of chatter and laughter would've also reached Rory as she entered; now, its absence made her wonder if the place was abandoned, and Sam had claimed it as her new home.
That notion was dispelled, however, when Rory saw a familiar, muscular man tinkering with the D.O.A. 2 cabinet.
"Heeeey Joe!" Sam sang.
Rory almost laughed. Of course the eponymous "Joystick" Joe would still be here: if anyone was going to survive an apocalypse, even an economic one, it would be him. He was a towering figure, with huge arms, close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair, and the ability to reboot any machine with a swift smack to the casing. The last few years had definitely added some lines to his face, but the shark's smile he flashed still gleamed with a dangerous cunning, the kind Rory used to see before he hustled some poor teens in Street Fighter II.
"Hey Sammi," his gruff voice barked. "You brought a friend this time. Fantastic."
"Sammi?" Rory threw a disbelieving glance to her friend.
"It's just what Joe calls me." Sam winked. "Cute, right?"
"Uh, sure," Rory lied, flabbergasted. She thought she was the only one who could call Sam that. Wasn't that the whole point of those stupid, diminutive pet names? That they were only used ironically between best friends?
Sam gestured to Rory. "Joe, this is—"
"Hold on, let me guess," Joe interrupted, scanning Rory's features. "You used to come in here all the time a few years ago right? Tall girl, bright red hair, too good at the claw machine...it's Rory right?"
Rory blushed. "Y-yep that's me."
