ONE YEAR AGO
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Rain fell from the overcast sky in sporadic bursts, quick manic showers followed by moments of nothingness. The weatherman on channel six had predicted a calm day, but the woman knew better. A tumultuous storm was rolling in. There was no way to avoid it.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her heart beat frantically, blood surging through her veins, mixing with enough adrenaline to make her stomach churn. She might've been worried about getting sick if there had been anything left inside of her to give, but no… she was empty. Burying her mother had taken everything out of her. This, on top of that, was too much for her to bear.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Jennie Kim stood on the front porch of the two-story white house, staring out into the yard as thunder clapped in the distance. Lightning illuminated the darkened afternoon sky, giving her a better view of her. Jennie's uninvited visitor stood a mere ten feet away, dressed in a designer suit that cost more than she made in a year, but yet she still somehow managed to look thrown away. Her black tie hung loosely around her neck, her button down soaked and clinging to her ashen skin.
"Why are you here?" Jennie asked, unable to handle her silence or her presence. As quickly as this storm rolled in, Jennie needed it to go back away.
"You know why I'm here," her visitor said quietly, her voice shaking. Even from a distance, Jennie could tell she'd been drinking, her eyes bloodshot and glassy.
"You shouldn't be here," Jennie said. "Not now. Not like this."
The visitor said nothing for a long moment, running her fingers through her thick dark blond hair, the ends curling from being wet. She was drenched, although the rain had since slowed to a steady trickle. Jennie wondered how long she'd been standing outside before she noticed that person. Before Jennie sensed her.
She imagined it had been quite awhile with the condition that person was in.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
The yellow cab parked along the curb blew its horn, the middle-aged driver growing impatient. Jennie nearly laughed at the sight of it. She figured taking a cab would've been beneath her those days. Limos and town cars, with chauffeurs and security, were more her level.
Or so she'd heard, anyway.
The visitor glanced back at it, her face flickering with a hidden aggression, before she turned to face Jennie again. The visitor's expression softened when their eyes met.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I heard about your mom and I just… I wanted to be here."
Crack. Crack. Crack.
It was the sound of her heart being torn apart once again.
"You shouldn't have come," Jennie said. An assault of tears burned her eyes, but she refused to shed a single one. Not while that person was there. Not while that person was looking at her. So many years later and that person still got under her skin. "You know that. You're just making this all so much harder."
"I know, but…" The visitor paused, her brown eyes imploring. "I was hoping I could… I mean, I wondered if it would be okay if…"
"No," Jennie said, knowing right away what that person was asking, but there was no way it would happen—not then, and certainly not with the condition she was in. She knew better than to even ask.
"But—"
"I said no."
The visitor sighed as the driver laid on the horn for the second time. Eyeing her warily, that person took a step back, and then another, before turning to leave without saying 'goodbye'.
They'd already said enough goodbyes to last them a lifetime.
Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.
Jennie stiffened as footsteps stomped through the house behind her, on a mission as they hurried her direction. The front door flung open, a tiny human tornado appearing at her side, wearing a fluffy black dress with her brunette hair in pigtails. Despite all the darkness surrounding the little girl, she was all bows and sunshine, innocence and happiness, and Jennie would do everything in her power to keep her that way. She didn't need to know more devastation. She was too young to endure that kind of pain.
Too young to have her heart broken by Lisa Manoban.
"Who was that, Mommy?" the little girl asked, watching the cab as it disappeared into the storm. "Did they come for Grandpa? Were they Nana's friend?"
"It was no one you need to worry about, sweetheart," Jennie said, gazing down at a pair of twinkling brown eyes—something her sweet little girl had inherited from her. "The woman was just a little lost, but I sent her back on her way."