The One I Love

19:00

Jennie holds a pile of return-to-sender mail with a sigh. Her mom must have given her the wrong address again. Another accident that didn't seem like much of an accident.

She hasn't seen her mother in a while, and almost isn't sure if she even remembers her face. She could see pictures of her on Instagram if she cared to look, but she really doesn't. At this point she'd get too angry seeing that woman living her life to the fullest while her daughter sat at home trying to hold it all together.

Setting the mail on the table, she takes a sip of soju. The taste is bitter, but somehow sweet. In a moment of recognition, she wipes her mouth and screws the cap back onto the green bottle.

Jennie lets her head fall onto the table, a memory from her childhood swirling to the surface of her mind with the slight warmth of the alcohol.

She remembers the nights when she would crawl into her parent's bed, her mother's breath a fragrant mixture of liquors. During those nights her mom would wipe away her tears and cradle her in her arms. It used to feel like a warm memory, until her mother's words started to haunt her.

"If you cry then your daddy will never come back."

Jennie always wondered why her mother had told her that. Maybe she wouldn't have if she knew that one day he really wouldn't come back.

(Or maybe she always knew.)

With or without those words, Jennie inevitably blamed herself. She absently swirls her finger around the edge of the shot glass.

In a sense, Jennie has become understanding of her parents. Why stick around at home when there is more to be seen in the world? Better sights to be seen, better food to be eaten, better people to fuck?

Jennie can't blame them anymore, not when their decisions make more sense in her mind as time goes by. She doesn't know what kind of mother she'll be. Maybe she'll be exactly like her own.

Which is exactly why she knows it's better if she doesn't become one at all.

. . .

"You're here."

Minho greets her with a small smile. She doesn't ask why he's in bed in the middle of the day.

She came to him because she didn't know who else to go to. These days, there isn't anyone in her life she trusts more than Minho. Probably because he's the only one who will always have it worse than her whenever she comes to him with her problems.

"Where's your roommate?" She asks, eyes sweeping over the suspiciously empty side of the room.

"Ah." Minho pauses, as if gathering his words. "He died."

The tears begin slowly, before unleashing like a flood. Minho watches her, his forehead creased in worry. Silently, he moves from the center of the bed and pats his hand on the open space.

She crawls into the bed without speaking, resting her head on his shoulder. A violent wave of sobs jolts through her body, the dampness soaking the sleeve of Minho's shirt. And then, she slowly calms, lulled to peace by his gentle and infallible scent that can't be masked by the low quality hospital detergent.

Her eyes wander back toward the empty, eerily tidy bed beyond the drawn curtain.

"What was he like?" She asks, her voice raw. "Did he tell you any stories?"

Minho softly holds her hand as he recounts a story about his roommate's childhood.

The man had been born and raised in a village that held a yearly sunflower festival. He liked to walk through the fields of sunflowers taller than him, looking up at the stalks that reached fearlessly toward God.

One day when the man was taking his usual walk through the fields, he saw a head of shiny black hair through the bright yellow petals. It was a young woman from Seoul who had come with her family. He could easily recognize the women from the city, with their permed hair and red lips.

He was so mesmerized by her round hazel eyes that he did something he had never dared before. He took a knife from his pocket and hacked at the strong green stalks of the flowers, making a bouquet for the girl that he'd tied with his shoelace.

Bouquet in hand, he chased after her. The girl blushed and told him her address in Seoul. He didn't have any paper on him at the moment so he repeated it over and over in his head until he could run home to write it down.

"And then what happened?" Jennie asks, transfixed.

"He was beat by his parents for cutting down the sunflowers." Minho laughed, looking down at her puffy but dry eyes. "They usually sold for a lot of money to people from the city, and he had given away over a dozen..."

"But did he write to the girl?"

"He did, and then ten years later he married her."

"No!" Jennie gasps in disbelief, nestling in closer. Minho lets out a hearty chuckle, the vibration lightly shaking the bed.

. . .

Lisa is lounging on the couch flipping through a magazine when Jennie comes home. The younger girl looks up at the door slams shut.

"You're home?"

"Ah, yeah." Jennie answers with a small smile. Her body feels heavy and numb.

After seeing Minho she had gone to the Women's Health wing. There was a gynecologist Jinwoo had mentioned after she had delivered his wife's baby. She was young, but a popular and experienced doctor.

Jennie sat in the small white room as she waited for the young doctor to return with the results. It felt as if she had been trapped in a snow globe and shaken around.

When the young doctor returned, Jennie nearly jumped out of her seat.

"The pregnancy test came back negative." Dr. Park reported, a strange expression on her face. It was reassuring but there was something else there. "But..."

"But?" Jennie asked, a knot forming in her stomach.

"Jennie, the false-positive was caused by a hormone imbalance. I'm concerned there might be something else causing the imbalance."

"What do you mean by something else? Like, cancer?"

"We'll need to run more tests to be sure."

More tests meant being told to change into a condescending pink hospital hospital gown. More tests meant being lead into another tiny room. More tests meant laying still while the doctor rubbed a cold and uncomfortable jelly on her skin before placing a metal tool on her abdomen.

More tests meant...

"Lisa, I'm going to be gone for a little bit."

"To be with Jaewon?" The blonde asks without looking up from her magazine.

"We broke up." Jennie says, pouring herself a glass of water. "Actually, I found out I have cancer so I have to go get surgery."

Lisa drops the magazine.

"Do you need help packing?"

Jennie smiles.

"No, I'll be fine."

Later that night there's a small knock on her door. Lisa asks if she can come in, but she's already walked through the door.

The younger girl pauses before crawling into bed. She rests her head on Jennie's chest as she curls up against her like a cat.

"Why are being like this?" Jennie murmurs, looking down at the younger girl. The blonde covers her face with her hands as tears begin to roll down her cheeks.

"Jennie..."

"What, Lisa?"

"Jennie, I don't want you to die."