Through Her Eyes (JenLisa)

Lost and Found

The thing was, Lisa was still pretty sure she wanted Jennie to go away. No one wanted someone going through their trash at night. It was an invasion of privacy and it was just sort of gross. Jennie was strange and insanely frustrating to talk to. She dressed weird and wore weird bows, and she looked at Lisa weird and she made Lisa feel weird. So, yes, Lisa was pretty sure she just wanted Jennie to go away.

Until Jennie did go away, of course, and then Lisa just wanted her to come back now, please.

Jennie disappeared on a Tuesday night. Or, well, she'd been there on Monday night, digging through Lisa's trash as usual, wearing the purple hoodie she hadn't taken off since Lisa had given it to her and chattering on about Leo's whiskers. (Lisa had suggested getting a disposable razor if her friend wanted to shave but Jennie had just looked at her oddly.)

So, Jennie was there Monday, just like she had been every night for almost the last month. She'd walked off into the night with her plastic bag full of trash and Lisa hadn't watched her go. Jennie would be back the next day, she figured, because Jennie always was.

Jennie wasn't back the next day, though. Lisa sat in the family room for hours, staring out into the darkness, waiting. When the old grandfather clock chimed four times Lisa decided that perhaps Jennie was already outside and Lisa just hadn't seen her. She stepped out her front door to look, the garage light turning on as she passed it and illuminating the yard, but Jennie wasn't there. Lisa sat down on the front porch to wait. She waited there for three hours, jerking her arm every ten minutes so the motion sensor would keep the light on. Jennie never came and at seven Lisa had to get ready for work.

Lisa didn't see Jennie that day or the next.

It wasn't fair for Jennie to just leave like that. To insert herself into Lisa's life and Lisa's head and maybe Lisa's heart too and then just take it all away, take herself away. It wasn't fair at all, and Lisa was going to have to find Jennie so she could tell her so.

Problem was, Lisa didn't know where to look, didn't even know where to start. Jennie was always just showing up where Lisa was. Lisa had never thought she'd have to find Jennie. She'd never thought she'd want to.

When Lisa hadn't seen Jennie in three days, she skipped work and went looking. She started on foot, went to the park where she'd seen Jennie staring up at the sky and the minimart where she'd seen Jennie eating a chocolate bar she most likely hadn't paid for, but Jennie wasn't at either of those places. Once Lisa had made her way back home she decided the operation would have to be on a bigger scale and started up her truck.

Jennie wasn't at the pizza place where Lisa had run into her twice and she wasn't at the gas station on 5th with the friendly old checker and she wasn't in the soup kitchen and she wasn't on any of the streets in between. By six o'clock Lisa was hungry and tired and she had to admit it to herself – Jennie wasn't anywhere.

When she got home Lisa sat down on the sidewalk by her trashcan and put her head in her hands.

She hadn't been lonely, really lonely, in almost a year. And Jennie, Jennie had ruined everything.

"Miss Manoban!" an all too familiar voice squawked. Lisa sighed and clutched at her beanie harder. Fantastic. "Miss Manoban!"

"Yeah?" Lisa asked, pulling herself up and leaning against the trashcan. She eyed Mrs. Park in annoyance. Couldn't a girl sulk in peace?

"I've been meaning to talk to you," Mrs. Park was saying, hands on her hips. "Miss Manoban, your grandmother was a bad enough neighbor – all those cats and her music – and she never mowed the lawn, never! And that fence! Look at the paint on that fence, it's still a mess-"