Lisa
The entire week is pure hell.
I'm fortunate enough to be preoccupied with work for a day or so, but that isn't enough to keep this girl from my mind. I think about Jennie constantly. Even when trying to focus my energy on something else, my thoughts always seem to drift back to the same place - the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin and lips, the way her brown eyes seem to shine when she's happy. She even has a tiny cow-lick in her left eyebrow - an insignificant thing, to be sure - but even that tiny feature has haunted me in her absence.
I'm consumed. Utterly, pathetically, painfully consumed.
I try calling Rosé, but the first time she doesn't answer. When she finally calls me back, she's in such a rush that I'm not able to reveal the shit-storm that has taken place in my life this past week. "Oh, Lisa! It's good to hear from you!" she says.
"You too, Rosé. Do you have a second to talk?"
"Oh, I wish I did, but I'm already fifteen minutes late to meet Chanyeol and some friends for drinks. Can I call you when we're finished?"
What choice did I really have? I wasn't about to spoil her night.
"Sure, Rosé. Just don't forget, okay?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Lisa. Of course I won't."
But she doesn't call me back.
The next morning she leaves what sounds like a very painful, hung-over message on my voice mail while I'm in a meeting. It's from Chanyeol's number. She says something along the lines of "fucking Screwdrivers" and "stupid bathroom stalls with broken locks" and "straight from my back pocket into the toilet." She then moans a bit about having to stick her hand in toilet water to retrieve her cell phone - they wouldn't allow Chan to come into the ladies' restroom, apparently - before promising to call as soon as she has purchased a new one.
I feel antsy at work. It's a slow day; I take my lunch break early and decide to leave the office rather than have my assistant pick something up. There's a deli downtown, so I drive nearby and park, hoping the short walk and time spent outside will help clear my head.
While passing a small boutique, something catches my eye. In the window, on display among various plus-sized women's clothing, is a fat, stuffed, black and white cat with its pudgy arms sticking out at its sides. It's not identical to Louis, but the resemblance is still uncanny.
Hae-in had reluctantly revealed the true origin of Louis the night I left Jisoo's place. That part didn't really surprise me; Hae-in's involvement in the entire affair did.
"You knew?" I had hissed at him. "And you helped her?"
"Dude, I already told you before. Jisoo and I tell each other everything. If she knows, then I know."
"You didn't have to encourage her, though!" I'd said angrily. "You practically handed her the ammunition."
He thought about this for a second. "Yeah, I guess I kind of did," he agreed, shamelessly.
By that time, I was emotionally spent and no longer had the energy to argue.
"Whatever, man. I hope it was worth it." I shook my head and turned to walk away, but he quickly grabbed my shoulder and spun me back around.
"You've always gone through women like they mean nothing," he said seriously. "Consider this a friendly intervention."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Hae-in. I've never blatantly disrespected women."
Well, except with Jennie. But I didn't say this.
"Oh? So the women from the bars that you've fucked... what do you call that?"
"It doesn't happen that often and it's their idea! The redhead invited me back to her place. She was practically trying to give me a hand job in the middle of the club. You can't tell me that girls who sleep with strange men after knowing them a half hour are expecting flowers and marriage proposals. They know what they're getting themselves into, Hae-in."
This is true. I've slept with Irene plenty of times, but random women - women whose names I can't remember - are few and far between. But I can't lie and say I've never done asinine things while drunk. That's so far from the truth that the mere idea is comical.
Hae-in huffed. "Yeah, but still."
The argument ended, and after that night we proceeded to carry on as if nothing had ever happened between us.
Now, I stand staring at the fat cat for what feels like ages. I'm pretty sure Louis did more damage to Jennie's emotional well-being than her ever did to mine. But Jennie never tried to bring him to my place, and for that reason I dare to hope that maybe she was beginning to feel some remorse for her actions. Maybe she knew that we had both taken this nonsense too far.
I enter the boutique. A tiny bell jingles from the door handle, alerting several women to my presence. I'm the only man in the store, and I instantly feel out of place.
"May I help you?" a saleswoman asks. She eyes my work clothes - a buttoned, fitted shirt with slacks and a tie - and I'm sure she assumes I'm a man with money shopping for someone else. Which is true.
"Yes, I want to buy the cat in the window," I say, already fishing out my wallet from my back pocket. She looks confused.
"The cat?"
"Please."
"That's a display item." she says patiently. She gives me a small smile. "It's not for sale. We sell clothes and accessories here. Perhaps I can interest you in something else?"
Jesus Christ. I really don't have much time to argue about this if I want to make it to Jennie's office before the end of her lunch.
"I'll give you a hundred dollars for it," I say briskly.
"Umm..."
"Two-hundred."
"But it's really not for sale."
"Four-hundred dollars," I say impatiently, slipping four bills from my wallet and holding them out to her. Her eyes glaze over for a second before she takes them.
"All right. If you really must have it, it's yours. Have a good day."
