LISA
This day has been long. Too damn long, and I'm ready to sleep. After the heart-to-heart with Marco, I'm worn-out. That, followed by Sarah, Sonya, S'whocares—whatever the hell her name is—and Jisoo eye-fucking her across the dinner table, has bored me to death.
Even though I wish Jennie hadn't left without telling me, I can't say that out loud because she doesn't owe me any type of explanation.
I played nice, the way I promised Jennie I could, and ate my dinner in silence as Karen and my dad, or whoever he is, watched me with caution, waiting for me to explode or ruin their dinner somehow.
But I didn't. I stayed quiet and chewed each bite. I even kept my elbows off the ugly-ass table-cover thing that Karen thinks adds a nice pastel spring touch or some shit, but it doesn't. It's hideous, and someone should burn it when she's not looking.
I felt a little better—awkward as fuck—but a little better after talking with my dad. I find it amusing that I keep defaulting to calling Marco my dad now whereas when I was a teen I could barely speak his name without scowling or wishing he hadn't left just so I could punch him. Now that I understand—well, somewhat understand—how he felt and why he did what he did, some of the anger I held inside me for so long has sort of fizzled.
It was weird, though, feeling that slip from my body. I've heard it explained in novels—forgiveness, they call it—but I've never felt it until tonight. I'm not quite convinced that I like the feeling, but I'll admit it helps distract me from the constant ache of missing Jennie. Sort of.
I feel better . . . happier? I don't know, but I can't stop thinking of the future now. A future where Jennie and I shop for carpet and shelves, or whatever married people do. The only married people I know who can tolerate each other are Marco and Karen, and I have no clue what they do together. Aside from making babies in their forties. I immaturely cringe at the thought and pretend that I wasn't just thinking about their sex life.
Truth be told, thinking of the future is much more fun than I ever imagined. I never expected anything from the future, or the present, before. I always knew I would be alone, so I didn't bother entertaining stupid plans or wishes. Up until eight months ago, I didn't know there could be someone like Jennie. I had no clue that this obnoxious girl was walking around waiting to turn my entire life upside down by driving me absolutely insane and making me love her more than I love breathing.
Hell, if I had known she was out there, I wouldn't have wasted my time fucking every chick that I could. I wasn't running on anything before; no driving force with feline cat eyes was helping me, guiding me through my fucked-up life, so I made too many mistakes, and now I have to work harder than most at trying to right those wrongs.
If I could take it back, I wouldn't have touched another girl. Not one.
And if I had known just how good touching Jennie would be, I would have been preparing myself, counting down the days until she barged into my room at that frat house, touching all my books and things after I explicitly told her not to.
The only thing that's keeping me remotely in control of myself is the hope that she will come around eventually. She will see that this time I'm not going to take my words back. I will marry her ass, even if I have to drag her down the aisle.
This is another of our problems, these pushy thoughts. As much as I'll deny them to her face, I can't help but smile now at the vision of her in a white dress, scowling and yelling at me, as I literally drag her by her feet down a carpeted aisle while some bullshit song is played on a harp or some other instrument that no one uses outside of weddings and funerals.
If I had her number, I would text her just to make sure she's okay. She doesn't want me to have it, though. It took a lot of control not to snatch Jisoo's phone from her pocket and just steal it after dinner.
I'm lying in this bed when I should be driving to Seattle. Should be, could be, need to be, but can't. I need to give her a little space or she'll pull farther away from me. I hold my phone up in the dark and scroll through the pictures of her. If images of memories are all I will have for a while, I'm going to need more pictures. Nine hundred and twenty three isn't enough.
Instead of continuing down the path of an obsessive stalker, I climb out of bed and pull on some pants. I don't think Jisoo or pregnant Karen would appreciate seeing me naked. Well, maybe they would. I smile at my thoughts and take a moment to come up with my plan. Jisoo will be stubborn, I know it, but she's easy to break. By the second embarrassing joke I crack about her new crush, she'll be shouting Jennie's number and blushing like a kindergartener.
I knock twice, giving the kid fair warning before pushing the door open.
She's asleep, lying on her back with a book on her chest. Fucking Harry Potter. Should have known . . .
I hear a noise and see a little flash. As if a sign from above, her phone screen lights up, and I grab it from her nightstand. Jennie's name and the beginning of a text: Hey Jisoo, you up? Because . . .
The preview doesn't show the rest. I need to see the rest.
I circle my neck, trying not to allow the jealousy to take over. Why is she texting her so late?
I try to guess her pass code, but she's harder to read than Jennie. Hers was so obvious and comical, really. I knew that, like me, she would be afraid to forget the thing and choose 1234. That's our password for everything. PIN numbers, pay-per-view code on our cable box, anything that requires numbers, that's what we always use.
See, we are practically fucking married anyway. We could be wed together at the same time some hacker steals our identities—ha.
I smack Jisoo with a pillow from her bed, and she groans. "Wake up, dickhead."
"Go away,"
"I need Jennie's number." Smack.
"No."
Smack. Smack. Harder smack.
"Ugh!" she whines, sitting up. "Fine. I'll give you the number."
She reaches for her phone, which I place in her hand while watching the numbers she presses, just in case. She hands me the phone once it's unlocked. I thank her and type her number in my phone. The relief I feel as I press save is pathetic, but I don't care.
I smack Jisoo again with the pillow, just for good measure, and leave the room.
I think I hear her cussing at me until I close the door, laughing. I could get used to this feeling, this . . . hope-like feeling as I type in a simple good-night text to my girl and wait anxiously for her to reply. Everything seems to be getting better for me, finally, and the last step is Jennie's forgiveness. I just need a sliver of the hope she has always had for me to return.
Liiiiisa? the message reads.
Fuck, I was beginning to think she was going to ignore me.
No, not Liiiiisa. Just Lisa. I decide to start the conversation with teasing even though I want to beg her to come back from Seattle, or not to freak out if I show up there in the middle of the night.
Sorry, I can't type on this keyboard. It's too touchy.
I can picture her lying in her bed in Seattle, squinting and frowning as she uses her index finger to tap each letter.
Yeah, iPhones huh? Your old keyboard was massive so I can see why you are having a problem.
She responds with a smiley face, and I'm impressed and amused by her newfound use of the emojis. I fucking hate them and have always refused to use them, but here I am rushing to download the shit so I can respond with a matching smiley face.
You still there? she asks just as I send a matching face.
Yeah, why are you up so late. I saw that you texted Jisoo. I shouldn't have sent that.
A few seconds pass, and she sends an image of a tiny wineglass. I should have known she was hanging out with Kim after all.
Wine, huh? I send, accompanied by something that looks like a surprised face, I think. Why are there so many of these damn things? When would anyone ever need to send a picture of a tiger, for fuck's sake?
Being curious and a little high off the attention she's giving me, I send the damn tiger and laugh to myself when she responds with a camel. I laugh each time she sends me a stupid little image that no one could possibly have a use for.
I love that she caught on, that she knew I sent the tiger because it literally makes no damn sense, and now we are playing a "send the most random emoji" game, and I'm lying here in the dark, alone, laughing so hard that my stomach actually hurts.
I ran out, she says after about five minutes of back-and-forth.
Me too. Are you tired?
Yes, I drank too much wine.
Did you have fun? I'm surprised when I want her to say yes, that she did have a good time, even though I wasn't a part of her night.
Yes, I did. Are you okay? I hope everything went well with your father.
It did, maybe we can talk about it when I get to Seattle? I accompany my pushy message with a heart and the picture of what looks like a skyscraper.
Maybe.
I'm sorry I was such a shitty partner. You deserve better than me but I love you. I send the message before I can stop myself. It's true and I just can't help saying it now. I've made the mistake of keeping my feelings for her inside, and that's why she's so quick to doubt my promises now.
Too much wine in my brain for this conversatoine. Christian heard Taehyung having sex in his of ce.
I roll my eyes at his name on my screen. Fucking Taehyung. Fucking Taehyung.
That's whatf I said. I otld Kim that sain things.
Too many typos to read. Go to sleep, text me tomorrow, I send, then start a new message. Please. Please text me tomorrow.
A smile creeps across my face when she sends a picture of a cell phone, a sleepy face, and that damn tiger.