JENNIE

Touch me when you're gone.

Leave me when you're near.

Love me with my shattered pieces.

~ Romeo's Quest


The next few days, I did my best to keep to myself. I didn't talk a lot, but I allowed my mind to keep running on that dang treadmill in my head. It turned out that Richard's family loved to eat dinner together every night, and I thought it was nice of them to invite me to eat with them.

But I knew I didn't fit in with their table for four. Alice pulled out a folding chair from their storage room for me to sit on. There was a metal piece on the seat that pushed into my left thigh, but I didn't complain.

Alice cooked a lot of food. Enough to feed an army. As we sat down, I went to dig into my food and Alice held her hand up. "Sweetie, we pray over the food first." She gave me a kind smile, but I could see a bit of disappointment that I didn't even think of doing so. "Richard, can you lead it again?"

I chuckled and huffed under my breath. "Yeah right." All eyes flowed to me. My eyes went to Richard, confusion filling them. "You pray?"

"You don't?" Alice jumped in.

I felt like a sinner from her simple question.

The answer was no.

The awkwardness of the situation set in and I came to a strong resolution. I knew nothing about Richard and this family seemed to know everything.

I knew it was stupid, but a part of me was pretty saddened by that. Why was it that you wanted those who ignored you to love you the most?

Richard said a prayer while everyone closed their eyes and held their hands together. Well, almost everyone. I just sat and stared at them all during that time. Mingyu never closed his eyes either.

"Amen," the group muttered together and opened their eyes. They dove into the steak dinner in front of them.

Nayeon didn't have a steak on her plate. She never had any meat at dinnertime. The other day, she told me that killing and eating harmless animals was a terrible act. She said that it was against the natural order of things, that people weren't supposed to eat meat. So she stopped.

I assumed that she'd never studied the fact that lions never hesitated to eat a gazelle if they were hungry.

"Oh, Mingyu and Nayeon…don't forget. You two are teaching Bible study in the morning." She might not have noticed, but I watched as her two kids rolled their eyes.

Tomorrow was Sunday, which meant that today was Saturday. I'd almost forgotten about my invite to Joe's bar to hear Ms. Beautiful Eyes perform. And by 'almost,' I meant I'd been thinking about it ever since I saw her. I was mostly excited to learn her name, seeing how I had only been calling her Ms. Beautiful Eyes.

"I think I'm going to head upstairs and get ready to go."

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Go where?"

I gave him an are-you-seriously-concerned-about-my-whereabouts look and he sighed. Then I gave myself an is-he-seriously-not-concerned-about-my-whereabouts sigh.

"I made you a key. It's hanging in the front hall," Richard said as I stood up from the table.

Well, that was thoughtful.

All dressed up and ready to go out, I opened the wooden box and pulled out my bucket list, staring at all of the choices. I knew I needed a note from Irene. I just had to find an easy way to get to one without breaking her rules of just ripping a letter open.

The clock sitting on the dresser read nine thirty p.m. Nayeon walked into the room and smiled my way. "Just arrived a few days ago and you're already trying to leave?" she laughed.

"No…it's not that. It's just…"

"Too much change?" she asked, finishing my thought before I'd even thought it.

I nodded and couldn't help but smile when she stood up and tossed me her keys.

"Take my car. It's the Ford Focus. I'm not going to ask where you're going because I'm a terrible liar. And if I had to rat you out, I would feel bad."

"Thanks." I picked up a couple of the CDs from my collection to play in her car and prepared to make my exit without running into Alice or Richard.

"Welcome. And Jennie?" Her voice heightened as she reached for her bottle of facial lotion and started to apply it to her skin. "It's not so bad here."

"Yeah. It's just that I miss there. I'll be back later."

In Nayeon's car, I listened to the music blaring from the CD player. I glanced over to the passenger's seat, and for a split moment, I could have sworn I saw Irene sitting there singing along with me. Over the past few weeks, it hadn't been uncommon for me to sit and talk to her as if she really were there, to try and imagine what she would say, how she would comfort me.

"Mom hasn't called. Whatever… It doesn't matter. Can you believe that Nayeon calls Richard Dad?" I muttered to my invisible sister. "I'm not jealous or anything. It's just…weird." I stared at the empty seat and bit my bottom lip.

She didn't reply.

Because when people died, they took their voices with them. I wondered if they knew how much the people left behind would kill for their sounds one last time.

As I drove down Main Street, I saw that there were a bunch of smokers hanging around outside a bar. Joe's bar. I pulled over to the curb, put the car in park, and hopped out.

On a chalkboard sign sitting near the door read the words, 'Live Music. Half-priced shots. $2 beer.' Blue and purple balloons were tied to the sign. I watched as one of the smokers joked with his friends and untied one of the balloons, releasing it into the hot air. It floated up, up, up and away, allowing the wind to guide its patterns of travel.

I pursed my lips together and blew out a small bit of air toward the flying object. Sometimes I wished it were that easy. To just get up and fly, fly away. Glancing at my bucket list, I read the one that I was hoping to accomplish that night.

#14. Dance on a bar.

I could do that—even if I really didn't want to—if it meant a letter from my sister.

The doorman looked at me, checked my ID, and put a big, ugly black stamp on my hand—an instant sign that I was underage and shouldn't be allowed to have a drink or five. I'd expected that, since Ms. Beautiful Eyes had told me from the beginning.

What I hadn't expected were the emotions when I stepped inside. So many memories came rushing back to me from just standing inside the bar. The band was setting up onstage, and I choked on tears that were fighting to pour out. Where did that come from? Why did I feel like crying?

"I'm going to do that," Irene smirked, eyeing the stage as we walked past a bar. "When I get better, the first thing I'm going to do is perform in this bar."

I rolled my eyes, laughing at my sister. "After you get better, the first item on your agenda is to sing in a dirty bar?"

"What can I say? I like to live on the edge."

Within a second, I was standing outside the bar again. Moving to the side of the building, I felt my hands sweating up and my eyes watering over. It was too much—all of the new changes to my life. All of the old things that had been taken away from me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even move anymore. I stayed bent over, crying.

Air filled my lungs, but I couldn't exhale fast enough, causing me to hiccup over the tears. I was certain that it would only be a matter of time before my body crashed down to the hot cement. My knees began to prove my thoughts of fainting right, yet before I could fall, I heard a voice coming from around the corner.

"Hey, are you okay?" a deep, masculine voice whispered as she stepped closer to me.

My insides tightened as I heard her footsteps growing closer. I saw her hands reach out toward me and I jumped out of my skin, wanting her not to touch me. She must have noticed my reaction, and he she back.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, and I bent my knees, getting closer to the ground.

When I found her face, everything froze. The world went quiet, and I was staring into brown eyes that made the earth's surrounding look dull.

Beautiful.

Breathtaking.

Brilliant.

Brown eyes.

She was Ms. Beautiful Eyes, and a small sigh fell from my lips.

"I'm not going to touch you," she promised. "I'm not going to hurt you." There was something so sincere about how she said the words to me that I almost believed her. She made sure to stay a good distance apart from me, but she felt pretty close, too. I liked how close she felt. "Shhh…" Her gentle whispers brought me the comfort I needed.

I could smell her cologne from the distance, which tickled my senses, making me want to breathe her in deeper. My hand wiped across my mouth. When I collected my bearings, I returned to a standing position.

My eyes fell to the ground and I watched as she stood up, too. I felt so stupid.

"You're okay?" she questioned, but the way it had fallen from her mouth made it sound like more of a statement.

I nodded yet still felt the tears falling down my cheeks. "I'm okay."

She frowned and patted at her pockets. "Sorry. I don't have any tissue or anything."

The tears fell harder, probably from embarrassment.

Her fingers traveled down to her back pocket, where she pulled out her wallet. She reached in and grabbed a pocketknife and I gasped, taking a step backwards. She saw my reaction and a strong level of guilt took over those brown eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you, remember?"

There was vulnerability in her voice, a softness that almost made me want to look so deep into her eyes so I could see eternity. This stranger made me feel forever, which was something I'd never known could be felt. Who are you?

She took the pocketknife and ripped the sleeve off her white t-shirt. She then put the knife back into her wallet, which went back into her jeans pocket. The sleeve rested in her hands until she reached it out toward me. I stared at her, confused, wondering what she was doing.

"For the tears," she instructed. I stared at it for the longest time, and she sighed. She placed the edge of the sleeve between her thumb and pointer finger and stretched her arm closer to me. "I won't touch you."

Warily taking the sleeve from her, I wiped away my tears and listened to her sigh with relief.

We took in each other's breaths, and she didn't move until my breaths slowed down to the speed of her own. "You're okay…" she repeated as she slid her hands into her jeans pockets. I could almost see her muscular build underneath her shirt. I could almost embrace her soul, which she was so willingly wearing on her sleeves that night.

Well…on one of her sleeves at least.

"I'm okay…" I replied, still feeling my knees wanting to buckle. I missed Irene so much it hurt to stand. It hurt to cry. It hurt to be alive. I tried my best to avoid crying anymore, but when she looked at me and tilted her head to the left, narrowing her eyes, I felt a wave of emotion flying back to me.

"But it's all right if you're not okay," she whispered.

I sobbed onto her t-shirt sleeve for quite a few minutes after that, losing myself in the sadness. She didn't move. She didn't get tired of my emotional breakdown. She just stood there, and for some reason, I felt a hug she never even delivered to me.

I pulled myself together.

I was okay. For now, at least. I shrugged my shoulders and blew my nose into the sleeve, making a very unattractive sound. She laughed lightly. I just felt silly.

"I have to get back…" she stated, sounding apologetic for having to depart, but I knew it was truly the perfect moment for her to disappear. "I'll see you inside?" she asked.

She still wanted to see me inside? After this?!

One nod was all I could give her, and one nod was all she needed. Without hesitation, she rounded the corner and disappeared back into the bar, never looking back at me. My eyes followed her, silently thanking her for being the distant wall I'd needed to hold me up.

After a few minutes of pulling myself together, I reentered the building, made my way to the bar, and ordered water with lemon. The live music had already started, and from the sounds filling my ears, Ms. Beautiful Eyes hadn't been wrong. I was going to enjoy it.

Glancing down, I saw their CDs resting on the bar counter. Lifting one, I turned to the bartender. "How much are these?"

"Ten bucks."

I tossed the cash onto the bar and thanked the bartender for the drink and CD. It felt weird, being in a bar when I was under twenty-one. There was a bit of a rebellious feeling running through me, even with the black ink on my hand.

I turned and ventured toward the stage to watch the band perform, already falling in love with their vibe. Each and every one of the band members sounded at ease, in their comfort zone.

My eyes froze on the lead singer—my distant hug. There, like a freed bird, she sat on a stool and sang.She sang as if she would never sing again, with emotion in each note, feelings in every pause. The bar lights winked above her, and she closed her eyes, holding the microphone close to her lips. Her eyes opened again and they had the love and gentleness of the shining stars.

She was beautiful up there. Not in the over-the-top pretty handsome way, but in the quiet, whisper style. She was simple with her white t-shirt, which was semi-soaked with his perspiration—and missing a sleeve. She was wearing dark jeans, and a chain hung through her belt loop, which attached to the wallet that was resting in her back pocket. Her arms had no tattoos, but the way she held the microphone so tight showcased her physique.

And those lips. Ohh those lips. My cheeks flushed when I stared at her mouth.

The music almost died away, but then it burst like a pent-up flood. The louder it grew, the steamier her voice became. She lived the words she sang, she adopted the rhymes the band crafted as if they were her own children, and she inspired me. Her voice was as light as rain, yet I knew it could create a rapid storm if she powered it to.

She gripped the microphone in her large hands and cradled it like it was her lover, and when her eyes looked up into the audience, she found my stare. I didn't look away, I couldn't. She'd hypnotized me, leaving me in a daze. I was secretly one hundred percent okay with being locked away in those eyes.

I'll be your best friend, darlin', if you tell me your name.

I'll be your sunshine when you grow tired of the rain.

The corners of her mouth turned up as she continued to sing. Her smile alone made me grin. When was the last time I'd smiled? She nodded once at me, and as she finished the final words of the song, I felt as if she were giving me a private concert.

You can walk away and I'm sure I'll be all right.

But just so you know, you'll be in my dreams tonight…

My eyes moved away from her, my gaze falling to the ground. The pinkish tint attached to my cheeks caused a heavy amount of embarrassment. My eyes stayed glued to the ground for the next few songs, and I awkwardly tapped my foot along to the beat.

I could hear the smile in her voice as she thanked the audience after the sixth song. "We're gonna take a fifteen-minute break. Thanks for hanging out with us tonight, and remember we have CDs for sale at the bar. Check them out, grab another drink or two, and stick around for the next set. We are Romeo's Quest and we are so fucking stoked that each and every one of you badass, beautiful people are here tonight."

Romeo's Quest. How had they come up with that name? Who'd taught the band members how to play the instruments? How did the drummer make my heart smile with his skills?

And who in the world was the lead singer?

I smiled down to the CD in my hands and wandered to an abandoned booth in the back corner. From the 'thank you' section of the CD, it said that her name was Lisa Manoban, and I couldn't help but smirk even wider at the idea of that.

"Oh God… Don't tell me you actually bought one of those crappy CDs?" I looked up to see Lisa staring at me, and all I could do was stare back. She slid into the booth across from me with a beer in her hand. Like something fashioned in a dream, she smiled at me, and I hiccupped.

Suddenly overawed by a strange, vibrant shyness, I brushed my finger against my left earlobe. "Your name is Lisa Manoban?"

"Yeah, that's me."

I was still as a stone as I watched her lips form words, and curiosity rocked my being. I wanted to know more. More about her. I wanted to know anything and everything about the stranger who played music that had the power to make me feel good for a few moments.

I wanted to know more about the stranger whose lyrics had wrapped me up and yanked me away from sadness. Her mysterious approach drew me in, and her friendly nature kept me there and focused on her.

"I'm sorry about your shirt," I said, eyeing the missing sleeve.

"It's just a shirt," she smiled.

Yet I knew it was much more than that.

A silence came again, and my eyes shot down to my water, where I stared at the lemon for the longest time. When I looked up again, she was still smiling, and I racked my brain for anything to say, anything to make me not appear like a nineteen-year old sitting in a bar.

"Where did you get your band's name from?" I questioned.

"Shakespeare. Romeo's quest to find love."

"That play ended pretty tragically."

"Yeah, but I don't know. There is something about the tragic stories of Shakespeare. It's as if we all know how it will end, but the adventure makes it worth it. And the story is complicated, but not as much as the others. Romeo loves Juliet, and she loves him. Life just gets in the way. I like to think that the quest was worth the destination."

"That's depressing," I laughed. My gosh… When was the last time I'd laughed? I hadn't laughed in so long that it kind of felt unnatural. And warming. And exciting. And free.

"I'm a musician. Depressing is my middle name." She leaned back against the padded booth, making herself comfortable. Her words, almost a whisper, stumbled off her tongue. "Speaking of names… What's yours?"

I wanted to impress her for some reason. Sliding my stamped hand under the palm of my other, I smiled. I wanted to take away all doubt from her mind that she was sitting across from a girl who was sitting in a bar only because she had a stamp stating she was a certain age.

Clearing my throat, I prepared to embarrass myself. "By a name I know not how to tell thee who I am: My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself..." When in doubt with what to say, go to Shakespeare. He always had a good thing or two to express.

"Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word," she said, finishing my quote. And within a second, I was captivated by this beautiful stranger. Her lips turned up. "Jesus. I would be lying if I said it wasn't sexy as hell hearing a beautiful woman quote Shakespeare."

"I love Shakespeare," I replied, somewhat excited about the fact. "Othello was the first one I ever read in the fifth grade." Lisa looked a tad bit stunned by my statement. "What? What is it?"

She ran her hands through her hair and leaned forward. "Nothing. I just gotta say… It's not every day I sit in a bar and talk about Shakes. My collection back at home is pretty impressive, but it doesn't exactly bring me too many dates."

"Yeah, same here. Most people think it's weird—my infatuation with Shakespeare. My sister was the only one who really understood it, but no one else. She called it my golden."

"Your golden?"

"Everyone has a golden. It could be anything—a song, a book, a pet, a person. Anything that makes you so happy your insides cry of pure joy. It feels like you're on drugs but better because it's a natural high. Shakespeare is my golden."

"I like how your brain works."

My cheeks heated up from her comment. Was she flirting with me? Because if there was ever a time I wanted a person to flirt with me, it was definitely while we were talking about reading. There was nothing sexier than a smart person, especially when she was able to make my heart do cartwheels.

"Your music made me smile," I said, sipping at my water. "I haven't smiled this much in a very long time."

Lisa laid her forearms on the table and laced her fingers together. She studied my face unvoiced for a moment. The smile she softly used filled the silence like a perfected speech. Her eyes pierced my spirit before she tore her gaze away and lifted her beer up for a swallow. "That's a real shame."

"Why's that?"

"Because when the world gives a person a smile like that, it should be the only activity those lips ever partake in."

My cheeks rose up and I ran my hands through my hair. Talking about my lips made me think about her lips, which made me think about things I shouldn't have been thinking about. Time to change the subject.

"So do all of your songs deal with different Shakespeare plays, or was I just being an over-the-top hipster while listening to the lyrics?" I asked.

Lisa tilted her head to the side and her mouth parted. A look of amazement stayed on her face. I liked that look. Okay, truth was I liked all of her looks. "You're the real deal, aren't you? Most people don't pick up on it, but yes. Every song is based on some form of Shakes's works."

"That's so nerdy and hot all at once. I'm not sure how to handle it all."

"What can I say? I'm a nerd-stud."

I giggled and sipped from my glass. "So there was Romeo and Juliet of course. Then there was…" I paused, trying to recite the exact order of his set list. "Hamlet, Richard III, The Tempest, A Midsummer Night's Dream, and Othello?"

Lisa's hand flew over her heart and her back slammed against her booth. "Marry me," she joked. I almost considered it, too. Lisa's lips parted, and I swore I sighed just from the sight. "So tell me, no-name girl. What do you do for a living?"

"What do I do or what do I want to do? Those are two different things, I think. I'm currently a student hoping to someday call myself an author."

"No way? Really?" She seemed honestly interested.

"Really, really. Like, double really."

She laughed and I sighed at the sound of her chuckle. The way her smile stretched so far and wide made me think that I was actually charming. "Well, do it. Become an author."

It was my turn to giggle. "Yeah. Because it's that easy."

Her head shook back and forth. A somber look overtook her and she held her beer in the air. "I never said it would be easy. I just said do it. Besides, the best things in life aren't easy. They are tough, they are painful, and they are raw. That makes the arrival to the final destination that much sweeter."

"Yeah it's just…" My voice trailed off, yet Lisa appeared to stay invested in the conversation, never tampering off from boredom of my thoughts. "I had a co-writer."

"Had?" she questioned.

"Yeah, and I can't imagine finishing the book without her." When my mouth closed, I began to grind my teeth against each other, trying to fight back the tears.

Lisa took note of the emotion, and her hand moved across the table, taking my hand into her. Her touch electrified me, sending waves of heat through my fingertips.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

Five words. Five words from a stranger and a simple touch gave me a sense of life I hadn't experienced before. Such raw humanity in her approach was so welcoming that night.

"Thank you."

She didn't hold my hand too long, but I missed her touch when she retreated. "Maybe the key is to start writing something else."

"Maybe. But I can't really say I'm ready to close the current book."

Her hand found the back of her neck and she rubbed it, laughing. "Then I will respectfully shut the hell up." She was pretty dang charming, too. "I'm sorry I approached you outside like that. It's just… When I saw you enter the bar the first time, you looked like…"

"Like what?" I asked eagerly.

She frowned. "Like everything you ever loved was set on fire and you couldn't walk away until you watched it all burn to ashes. And all I wanted to do was hug you."

I blankly stared at her. I was coming off as awkward, yet I didn't know what else to do. Clearing my throat, I nodded once. I kept my glaze on her, unable to look away.

Lisa smiled and turned to see one of her band members walking over to our table. Our table? What an interesting thought.

The band member slapped his hands on Lisa's shoulders and smiled toward me. He had shaggy blond hair that sat right above his eyebrows and the sweetest gray eyes I'd ever seen. A peace symbol hung around his neck, and his long-sleeved forest-green shirt was unbuttoned over his white t-shirt.

"I hope this loser hasn't been giving you a hard time," he joked.

"Hardly," I grinned.

He extended his hand toward me. I accepted his handshake. "Mino Song. I'm on acoustic."

"It's nice to meet you. You're amazing up there."

Lisa sighed heavily. "Don't give him a bigger head."

Mino stepped back and placed his hands on his chest. "Big head? Me?! No way. I'm super humble." He put his hands together in a prayer format and bowed toward me. "Thank you, beautiful."

I giggled at his antics—and at Lisa, who was rolling her eyes.

"I would hate to steal Lisa from you, but we gotta get the next set going…" Mino smiled and slapped Lisa on the back. "Beautiful"—he took my hand in his and kissed it—"it was wonderful meeting you."

"You too, Mino."

Mino nudged Lisa in the arm and whispered, "She's hot," before he marched back to the stage.

My cheeks heated up.

Lisa laughed at her friend. "Don't mind Mino. He's a little…unique."

"I like unique," I said.

She lifted from her seat and smirked my way. "You're intriguing. I like that about you."

"You know what I like about you so far?" I asked, wiggling my butt around in my seat. She made me feel as if there were nothing more perfect than the booth in the back corner of Joe's bar.

"What's that?"

"Everything." When I said the word, her face lit up and warmed me up from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. "Have fun up there," I said, nodding toward the stage.

"You'll stick around?" she asked with such a soft tone. Like a teen asking someone to come listen to her garage band for the first time.

"Yup."

"Promise?" Her hands slipped into her jeans pockets, and her hips swayed back and forth.

I ran my fingers across my eyebrow and felt as if my cheekbones were going to shatter from all of the grinning they were partaking in tonight. "Promise, promise."