Chapter 8
Jennie
I opened my bedroom door and stepped aside so she could walk in first. The wooden floors were covered with a large beige Persian rug underneath my bed. My bed frame was oak wood, and the blanket was white, along with the throw pillows that matched the walls. Which were sea-foam blue with a tint of green but were bare, excluding some ocean painting my father won at some lawyer exposition.
My bed was in the middle of my room with my window on one side of the wall and my study desk on the other, with my mirrored sliding closet doors right in front. I had a nightstand on the left side of my bed where there was a tissue box that was probably empty from all the tears I've cried, along with two water bottles. I had a few fake plants hanging in the far corner of my room, along with some picture frames of my grandpa and me on my study desk where my laptop was. I grabbed it and sat on the edge of the bed, and Lisa set her bag on my bed before sitting next to me.
"Jennie."
"Yeah." I hummed as I opened my laptop.
"I didn't come here to do homework. I don't want you to think that's why I came here."
"Why did you come then? No one else from school stopped by."
"Really?" She asked, surprised, which had me looking up from my laptop screen to gauge her face.
"I mean, they texted me, but no one actually stopped by."
I watched her rub at the back of her neck as she blew out a breath of air, "Is it weird that I came?"
"Honestly... no."
"I'm sorry."
I cocked my head, "About what?"
"That everyone is an asshole."
I set my laptop down and let out a sigh. "High school isn't for life, Lisa. I mean, it's not like I'm ever going to see Mino Song or Stacy Choi from American World History class after graduation."
"Yeah, but it still sucks that no one thought to stop by and check up on you."
"You did, though. Why?"
"I don't know. But, if I'm being honest, I couldn't stop thinking about you." She whispered the last few words.
"I thought about you too." I spoke sincerely, "The 'everyone mourns differently' line came to my mind a few times these past few days." I turned my body to face her, "My father... he didn't grieve like me. He didn't cry, not even once." I rubbed the sweat off my palms on the tops of my thighs and let out a sigh.
"He wouldn't even follow the traditional Korean way of a funeral. He didn't want to waste time. Maybe people do mourn differently. Maybe burying his face in work is his way of dealing. I... I don't know. It sucks, grieving over him alone. I loved my grandpa, loved him like he was my father, mother, and my best friend all rolled into one. I just wanted my father to hug me and tell me that he's in a better place, that he still loves me, and to not cry too much over him or something. He didn't. Instead, he made me feel like the three days we dealt with my grandpa's funeral arrangements were an inconvenience. I don't know, maybe you're right. Maybe he's grieving in his own way."
"I never wanted to be more wrong than right now. I don't know your father, so I don't know if he's grieving or not, but I do know it's fucked up that he's let you mourn your grandpa all by yourself." Her words had me crying all over again, "Fuck, Jennie. Come here."
I jumped into her open arms like it was the most normal thing ever. I allowed myself to mourn all over again, my already broken heart breaking once again, my tears charged and ready to go as I sobbed in her arms. Lisa held me tight to her chest, and I felt her move with me pressed to her chest until she was fully carrying me onto her lap. I felt her hand at my back as she rubbed it, her other hand at the back of my head, as she ran her fingers through my hair. We stayed like that for a few moments, maybe even longer. I couldn't be too sure. All I knew was that Lisa's fresh scent of warmth and citrus calmed me down, and I felt the cries cease long enough for me to pull away.
