Jennie

I park my dad's old car in front of our house and sit back. I couldn't even bring myself to take Lisa's red sports car, the car I've come to love so much. She and I haven't spoken in days, even though she keeps trying to explain herself. Nothing she can ever say will make me feel better. It's hard enough to deal with the knowledge that my dad isn't my biological dad. I don't have the mental energy to deal with her betrayal. I can't believe she actively tried to keep this from me. If all she'd done was keep her silence, I might've understood. But this? I just don't get it.

I stare at my old house, a thousand memories flashing through my mind. All of my best memories were made here. I don't even remember much from before Dad and I moved here. I have some vague memories of my mom, but not many. I know I look a lot like her, and I remember she used to take me on unplanned trips and excursions. At the time it was exciting, and I adored her, but in hindsight it just proves what Dad told me, that she was impulsive, and maybe even reckless.

I think back to my childhood and all the times I blamed my dad for not being there, for working too much. I wonder how hard things were for him. I wonder how hard it must have been to deal with my mother's betrayal. If I was three when he found out, so that means he ended up forgiving her and staying, because she didn't leave until I was seven. I can't imagine what it must have been like for my dad, to have his heart broken like that, twice. I wish I could go back in time and treat him better, show him a little more gratefulness. I've never lacked for anything growing up. Dad was never very affectionate when I was younger, and his recent playfulness has only really developed in the months since he got his diagnosis, but I always knew he loved me. He was always there for every big occasion, even if he was absentminded or, at times, clueless about what was going on in my life. How hard must it have been for him to have a teenage daughter?

I sigh and get out of the car. I hesitate as I walk to the garden and bite down on my lip. I glance up at the treehouse longingly. I still remember seeing it from my bedroom window on the day we moved into this house. I did then what I'm about to do now. I trespassed.

I'm not as stealthy as I used to be when I was younger, but I still manage to walk up to the treehouse without setting off any of the automatic motion detector lights in the Manobans garden. The stair steps creak underneath me, the sound familiar and nostalgic. Even after all these years, this is where I go when I'm upset. I walk in, my eyes roaming over the interior. Everything is mostly unchanged, but it's definitely received an upgrade, because there are now light switches, and a small heater in the corner that definitely didn't used to be there. I didn't even notice any of this the last time I was here with Lisa, because she was all I could see.

My heart aches as my mind fills with memories of Lisa. I still remember being wrapped in her arms, right here, the temperature as low as it is now. I told her this place needed electricity, and specifically, a heater. She told me she'd get it put in for me someday, and I can't help but wonder if it's here now because she kept her promise, even though she wasn't sure if I'd ever return.

I turn the heater on and sit down in the window seat, my eyes on the starry sky. I inhale deeply as my vision begins to blur, and tears start to run down my face. I draw up my knees and drop my head on top of it, relishing in the solitude the treehouse provides me with. I've had to be so strong around Dad, because the moment I seem sad, he gets worried. But I'm so tired. So tired of everything. I'm tired of hurting, tired of the pain. I feel terrible for dad too, for everything he's been through with my mom, for the way I used to lash out at him as a teenager, and for everything he's going through today. When I came here, I was so certain that him getting better was only a matter of time, only a matter of him finally accepting a kidney donation from me. But now? What are we supposed to do now? I need to call the clinic to discuss our options, and I hate myself for procrastinating, all because I know I'd have to speak to Layla.

I sniff and try my best to stop crying, but I can't. I'm startled when I feel someone touch my shoulder, and I look up in surprise to find Rosé standing next to me, a bottle of wine and two plastic cups in her hands.

She sits down on the floor and pours two glasses of wine wordlessly. She hands me one, her expression blank, and I take it with trembling hands. I raise the cup to my lips and end up emptying it in one go, drinking it as though it's a shot. Rosé doesn't say anything, instead she just refills my cup. I empty that too and smile at her bitterly.

"I apologize for trespassing," I tell her, and she shakes her head, indicating that it doesn't matter. I laugh. "I guess it's fine. I bet seeing me cry like this delights your soul."

Rosé looks hurt for a second and then she sighs. She doesn't say a thing as she tops my cup up again, and I wish she'd speak up. I wish she'd give me a reason to argue with her.

She takes a sip of her wine and stares at her cup. I sigh and drop my head back to my knees, another tear dropping down my cheek. I sniff loudly, my breath labored. I can't even breathe properly, because it feels like I'm still crying, even though I've tried my best to stop.

"My dad isn't my real dad," I say, unable to keep the words in. I glance at Rosé and grin. "I bet that just makes your day. I don't have parents. Not real ones, anyway. My dad, the man that raised me, and the one that'll always be my Dad, isn't my biological father. And my mother, the woman that actually gave birth to me, well… she was never a mother to me."

"I'm sorry, Nini," she says, her eyes flashing with sympathy, and I hate it. I don't want sympathy from her.

I laugh, the sound hollow, yet slightly hysterical. "Man, this must be amazing for you. I bet you're loving every second of this. It gets better, though. You know how I found out? Layla told me."

Rosé's eyes widen, and for a second I'm certain I see hatred flash through them. "That bitch," she murmurs, and it startles me so much that I laugh.

"Is she allowed to date Lisa, or is Lisa off-limits to her too? I could never tell if you just had a sister-complex, or if your problem was with me specifically. Maybe a bit of both. She'll probably go back to dating Layla soon enough, so you won't have to worry about me."

I empty my cup and hold it out for Rosé. She frowns as she refills it for me and then refills her own cup. I sit there, staring at her, hatred and heartache clouding my vision.

"He's going to die. I'm not a match for him, so I can't donate my kidney. Your biggest wish is about to come true, Rosé. I'm about to end up all alone, with no family, no real friends, nothing. You took the love of my life from me, and now you get to watch me lose everything I have left."

I take a big gulp of my wine and it burns down my throat, adding to my misery. "I regret it, you know? Even then, I chose you. I chose your health, your family, and Lisa's happiness. What for? All it did was cost me valuable years I could've spent with my dad. I spent years feeling fucking miserable and missing Lisa, missing my Dad, missing everything I left behind. I convinced myself I did the right thing, but I didn't. I didn't owe you shit. I didn't have to do that for you, and I regret it. I regret it so much. I regret not choosing my own happiness, and I hate you for taking so many years from me."

I burst into tears all over again and hide my face against my knees. "I hate you so much," I whisper. "I'll hate you until the day I die, Rosé. I'll never ever forgive you."

Rosé sighs and strokes my hair gently. "I know, Jennie," she whispers. "I know."