JENNIE
The rain has returned, falling in a heavy, lonely sheet across the lawn. I'm leaning against the window now, staring out at it as if I'm mesmerized by it.
I used to like the rain; it was a sort of comfort as a child, and that comfort carried out into my teenage and now adult years, but now it only reflects back the loneliness inside me.
The house has cleared now. Even Jisoo and her family have gone back home. I can't seem to decide if I'm happy that they left, or if I'm sad to be alone.
"Hey," a voice and a soft knock sound at the bedroom door, reminding me that I'm not alone after all.
Rosé offered to stay at my mother's tonight, and I couldn't turn her down. I sit down near the headboard and wait for her to open the door.
When a few seconds pass and she hasn't entered the room, I call, "You can come in."
I guess I'm used to a certain someone barging in before I grant her permission. Not that I ever really minded . . .
Rosé enters the small room, dressed in the same clothes she wore to the funeral, only now some of the buttons on her dress shirt are unfastened.
She takes a seat on the edge of the bed and shifts toward me. "How you feeling?"
"Well, I'm okay. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel," I answer honestly. I can't tell her that I'm mourning the loss of two person tonight, not only one.
"Do you want to go somewhere? Or maybe watch a movie or something? To take your mind off of things?"
I take a moment to think about her question. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything, even though I probably should. I was fine standing by the window and obsessing over the desolate rain.
"Or we could just talk? I've never seen you like this, you aren't yourself."
Rosé rests her hand on my shoulder, and I can't help but lean into her. It was unfair of me to be so harsh on her earlier today. She was only trying to comfort me; she just said the opposite of what I wanted to hear. It's not Rosé's fault that I've recently taken a turn for Crazyville—it's mine and mine alone. Population two: only me and my emptiness. It gets its own number, since it's the only thing left standing with me after the battle.
"Jennie?" Rosé's fingers touch my cheek to gain my attention.
Embarrassed, I shake my head at her. "I'm sorry; I told you, I'm feeling a little mad." I attempt a smile, and she does the same. She's worried for me; I can see it in the golden brown of her eyes. I can see it in the weak smile she's pushing across her full lips.
"It's all right. You have a lot going on. Come over here." She pats the empty space next to her, and I scoot closer. "I have something to ask you."
Her tanned cheeks give an obvious flush.
I nod for her to go on. I have no idea what her question could be, but she's been such a great friend to me, coming all the way here to comfort me. "Okay, well . . ." She pauses, drawing out a long breath. "I was wondering what happened between you and Lisa." She bites down on her bottom lip.
I quickly look away. "I don't know if we should discuss Lisa, and I . . ."
"I don't need specifics. I just want to know if it's really, truly over this time?"
I swallow. It's hard to say, but I reply, "It is."
"You're sure?"
What? I turn back to look at her. "Yes, but I don't see what—"
I'm cut off by Rosé's lips pressing against mine. Her hands move to my hair and her tongue pushes through my closed mouth. I gasp in surprise and she takes that as an invitation to push further and press her body against me, forcing me back against the mattress.
Confused and caught off guard, my body reacts quickly and my hands shove against her chest. She hesitates for a moment, still trying to melt her mouth to mine.
"What are you doing?" I gasp, the moment that she finally lets up.
"What?" Her eyes are wide and her lips are swollen from the pressure against mine.
"Why did you do that?" I jump to my feet, completely thrown by her affections, and I'm trying desperately not to overreact.
"What? Kiss you?"
"Yes!" I shout at her before quickly covering my mouth. The last thing I need is my mother coming in.
"You said that you and Lisa were finished! You just said that!" Her voice comes out louder than mine, but she makes no move to silence herself the way I did.
Why would she think this is okay? Why would she kiss me?
Instinctively, I cross my arms over my chest, and I realize I'm trying to cover myself up. "That wasn't an invitation for you to make a move or something! I thought you were here to comfort me as a friend."
She scoffs. "A friend? You know how I feel about you! You've always known how I felt about you!"
I'm baffled by the roughness of her tone with me. She's always been so understanding. What's changed?
"Rosé, you agreed that we would be friends—you know how I feel about her." I keep my voice as calm and neutral as I possibly can despite the panic inside my chest. I don't want to hurt Rosé's feelings, but she is way out of line.
She rolls her eyes. "No, I don't know how you feel about her, because you two go back and forth, back and forth. You change your mind on a weekly basis, and I'm always waiting, waiting, waiting."
I shrink back. I barely recognize this Rosé; I want the old one back. The Rosé that I trust and care for isn't here.
"I know that. I know that's what we do, but I thought that I made myself clear about—"
"Hanging all over me doesn't exactly send that message." Her voice is flat, cold, and a set of chills run down my spine at the difference in her that has appeared in the last two minutes.
I'm offended and confused by her accusation. "I wasn't hanging all over you." She couldn't possibly believe that! "You put your arm around me to comfort me at my father's funeral. I thought it was a lovely gesture; I didn't mean for you to take it any other way. I certainly didn't. Lisa was there—you couldn't have possibly thought that I would be affectionate with you in front of her?"
The echo of a cabinet closing sounds through the small house, and I'm infinitely relieved when Rosé makes an effort to lower her voice. "Why not? You have used me to make her jealous before," she whispers harshly.
I want to defend myself, but I know she's right. Not about everything, but her point is valid here. "I know I have in the past, and I'm sorry for that. I really am. I've told you how sorry I was before, and I'll say it again: you have always been there for me, and I appreciate you so much, but I thought we talked about this. I thought you understood that you and I could only have a friendship, if that."
She waves her hands through the air. "You're so whipped by her that you don't even see just how in deep you are." The warm glow of her eyes has dropped in temperature, settling at a chilled amber.
"Rosé," I sigh in defeat. I didn't want to fight with her, not after the week I've had. "I'm sorry, okay? I really am, but you are behaving completely inappropriately right now. I thought we were friends."
"We aren't," she spits. "I thought you just needed more time, I thought this would be my shot at finally having you, and you threw me away. Again."
"I can't give you what you want—you know I can't. It's impossible for me. Right or wrong, Lisa has left her mark on me, and I wouldn't be able to give myself to you, to anyone, I fear."
The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them.
The look in Rosé's eyes when I'm finished with my pathetic speech has me reeling, grasping, for any hint of the harmless but hopeful Mr. Collins I thought I knew. Instead, I'm standing in this bedroom staring at the pushy and fake Wickham, who pretended to be charming and loyal to gain affections, hurt by Darcy in the past, when he was really a liar.
I make my move for the door. How could I have been so foolish?
Elizabeth would grab me by the shoulders and shake sense into me. I spent so much time defending Rosé against Lisa, making her worries about Rosé out to be a dramatic rambling out of jealousy, when Lisa was right the entire time.
"Jennie, wait! I'm sorry!" she calls behind me, but I'm already opening the front door and rushing out into the rain by the time her voice travels down the hallway, drawing my mother's attention.
But I'm gone, gone, already gone into the night.