JENNIE
Lisa's cheeks are flushed. Her lips hold a nervous smile as I stare at her quietly for a minute.
Then I practically jump over to where she sits on the easy chair. I nearly tackle her with my enthusiasm and my desire just to be close to this wild, crazy girl. Luckily, she's strong enough to keep us both from falling over. I hug her as tight as I can manage, causing her to cough, so I loosen my grip. "It's so . . . it's just perfect," I sob. "Thank you. It's so thoughtful, and just unbelievable." I press my forehead against her as I nestle into her lap.
"It's nothing . . . really," she timidly states, and I wonder at her casual tone—until Chit clears her throat from where she sits nearby.
I hurry off her lap. For a moment I forgot that we are not alone in the apartment. "Sorry!" I tell her and move back to my spot on the couch.
She gives me a knowing smile. "Don't apologize, dear."
Lisa stays quiet; I know she won't talk about the gift in front of Chit, so I change the subject for now. Her gift was so incredibly thoughtful. She couldn't have picked a more perfect quote from any novel to engrave on that charm.
"Whatever our souls are made of, her and mine are the same"—it's so perfect for the way I feel about her. We are so different, yet we're exactly the same, just like Catherine and Heathcliff. I can only hope that we don't share the same fate as them. I would like to think that we've learned from their mistakes, somehow, and that we won't allow that to happen.
I slide the bracelet over my wrist and slowly rock my lower arm back and forth, letting the charms sway. I've never received anything like this before. I thought the e-reader was the best gift ever, but Lisa managed to outdo herself by giving me this bracelet. Kai always gave me the same thing: perfume and socks. Every single year. Then again, I gave him cologne and socks each year. That was our thing—our boring, routine thing.
I stare at the bracelet for a few more seconds before I realize that both Lisa and Chit are watching me. Immediately I get up and begin to clean the small mess of wrapping paper.
With a chuckle, Chit asks, "Well, lady and gent, what shall we do for the rest of the day?"
"I feel like taking a nap," Lisa tells her, and she rolls her eyes. "A nap? This early? And on Christmas?" she mocks.
"It's not Christmas, for the tenth time," she says a bit harshly, but then smiles.
"You're obnoxious," she scolds and swats at her arm. "Like mother, like daughter."
As they gently bicker, I get lost in thought and take the small pile of crinkled and torn paper and push it into the steel trash can. I feel even worse about not getting Lisa a gift than I did before. I wish the mall were open today . . . I have no idea what I'd get, but anything would be better than nothing. I look down at the bracelet again and run my finger over the infinity heart charm. I still can't believe that she would get me a charm to match her tattoo.
"Almost done?"
I jump in surprise from the sound and the tickle at my ear. Then I turn and smack Lisa. "You scared me!"
"Sorry, love," she says between chuckles. My heart leaps when she calls me "love." It's so unlike her.
I feel her smile against my neck, and she wraps her arms around my waist. "Join me for my nap?"
I turn and face her. "No. I'll keep your mom company. But," I add with a smile, "I will tuck you in." I don't really like to take naps unless I'm too exhausted to do anything else, and it would be nice to hang out with her mom and read or something.
Lisa rolls her eyes but leads me to our bedroom. She pulls her shirt over her head, and it falls to the floor. As my eyes travel over the familiar designs inked into her skin, she smiles at me. "You really like the bracelet?" She asks as she walks over to the bed. She tosses the decorative pillows onto the floor and I pick them up.
"You're so messy!" I complain. I put the pillows into the trunk and Lisa's shirt on the dresser before grabbing my e-reader and joining her by the bed. "But to answer your question, I do love the bracelet. It's really thoughtful, Lisa. Why didn't you say it was from you?"
She pulls me down and lays my head on her chest. "Because I knew you were already feeling bad about not getting me something." She lets out a laugh. "And that you would feel even worse after my amazing gift."
"Wow, so humble," I tease.
"Also, when I had it made for you, I had no idea if you would ever speak to me again," she admits.
"You knew I would."
"Honestly, I didn't. You were different this time." "How so?" I look up at her.
"I don't know . . . you just were. It wasn't like the other hundred times you said you wanted nothing to do with me." Lisa's voice is light as she pushes my loose hair from my forehead with her thumb.
I concentrate on the rise and fall of her chest. "Well, I knew . . . I mean, I didn't want to admit it, but I knew I would come back. I always do."
"I won't give you reason to leave again."
"I hope not," I say and kiss the palm of her hand. "Me, too."
I don't say anything else; there's nothing to say at the moment. She's sleepy, and I don't want to talk about me leaving her any longer. Within minutes she's asleep, breathing heavily. Lisa calling me Daisy this morning made me want to reread The Great Gatsby, so I scroll through my e-reader's library to see if Lisa already loaded it on there. And find that, of course, she has. Just as I'm about to get up and join her mother, I hear a woman's angry voice.
"Excuse me!"
My mother. I toss my e-reader to the end of the bed and get up. Why the hell is she here?
"You have no right to go in there!" I hear Chit yell.
Chit. My mother. Lisa. This apartment. Oh my Lord. This isn't going to go well.
The bedroom door crashes open to reveal my mother, looking sophisticated yet menacing in a red dress and black heels. Her hair is curled and pinned up to resemble a beehive, and her red lipstick is bright, too bright.
"How could you be here! After everything!" she yells. "Mother . . ." I begin as she turns to Chit.
"And who the hell are you?" she asks, their faces close together. "I'm her mother," Chit says sternly.
Lisa groans in her slumber and opens her eyes. "What the fuck?" are the first words out of her mouth when she spots the devil in the crimson dress.
My mother snaps her head back in my direction. "Let's go, Jennie Ruby Jane." "I'm not going anywhere. Why are you even here?" I ask her, and she huffs, putting her hands on her hips.
"Because I have already told you. You are my only child, and I will not sit back and watch you ruin your life over this . . . this asshole."
Her words light a fire under my skin, and I immediately go on defense. "Do not speak of her that way!" I shout.
"That 'asshole' is my daughter, missy," Chit says with hooded eyes. Underneath her humor is a woman clearly ready to go into the ring for her daughter.
"Well, your daughter is ruining and corrupting my daughter," my mother fires back.
"Both of you—get out," Lisa says and stands up from the bed.
My mother shakes her head and gives a toothy smile. "Jennie, grab your things, now."
Being ordered about makes me snap, "What part of I am not leaving do you not understand? I gave you the opportunity to spend the holidays with me, but you couldn't get over yourself long enough to allow it." I know I shouldn't be speaking to her this way, but I can't help it.
"Get over myself? You think just because you bought a few slutty dresses and learned to put on makeup, you suddenly know more than I do about life?" Although she's yelling, it's like she's laughing, too. Like my choices are a joke. "Well, you're wrong. Just because you gave yourself to this . . . this filth doesn't mean you're a woman! You are nothing but a little girl. A naive, impressionable little girl. Now grab your things before I do it for you."
"You will not touch her things," Lisa spits. "She isn't going anywhere with you. She's staying here with me, where she belongs."
My mother wheels toward her, all humor gone. "'Where she belongs'? Where did she belong when she was staying in a damned motel because of what you did to her? You are no good for her—and she will not stay here with you."
"Mrs. Kim, these two are adults," Chit interjects. "Jennie is an adult. If she wants to stay, there is nothing—"
My mother's enraged eyes turn to meet Chit's equally hardened glare. This is a disaster. I open my mouth to speak, but my mother beats me to it. "How can you defend this sinful behavior? After what she did to her, she should be locked away!" she screams.
"She has obviously chosen to forgive her. You need to accept that," Chit says coolly. Too coolly. She looks like a snake, one that slithers by so slowly you never see its attack coming. But when it does, you are done for. My mother is the prey, and right now I can't help but hope that Chit's bite is venomous.
"Forgive her? She stole her innocence as a game—a bet with her friends. And then bragged about it while she was here playing house!"
Chit's gasp overrides all sound in the air and silences everything for a second. Mouth agape, she looks at her daughter. "What . . ."
"Oh, you didn't know? You mean—surprise—the liar lied even to her own mother? Poor woman, no wonder you're defending her," my mother says, shaking her head. "Your daughter bet her friends—for money—that she could take Jennie's virginity. She even kept the evidence and flaunted it around the entire campus."
I'm frozen. I keep my eyes on our mothers, too afraid to look at Lisa. I can tell by the shift in her breathing that she hadn't thought I'd told my mother the details of her deceit. As for her mother, I didn't want her to know the terrible things her daughter has done. It was my embarrassment to share or not share with people.
"Evidence?" Chit's voice is shaky.
"Yes, evidence. The condom! Oh, and the sheets with Jennie's stolen virginity on them. God knows what she did with the money, but she was telling everyone every detail of their . . . intimacy. So now you tell me if I should make my daughter come with me or not." My mother raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrow to Chit.
I feel it the moment it happens. I feel the change in the room, the energy shifting. Chit is now on my mother's side of this. I try desperately to cling to the edge of the crumbling cliff that is Lisa, but I can see it all perfectly in the disgusted glare she gives her daughter. A look I can tell is nothing new. It's something she's had to use on her before, like a memory brought back as a facial expression. A look that all but says she believes, once again, every bad thing anyone's ever said about her daughter.
"How could you, Lisa?" she cries. "I had hoped you were different now . . . I hoped you had stopped doing things like this to girls . . . women. Have you forgotten what happened last time?"