Through Her Eyes (JenLisa)

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Lisa thought it was enough.

It wasn't enough.

It should have been. Being with Jennie, being Jennie's friend, it should have been enough. Lisa wanted it to be enough.

No amount of Jennie that was not everything would ever be enough.

Having Jennie in her life made Lisa greedy. Jennie was more than Lisa had ever asked for, more than she deserved, more than anything she'd ever had, and still, not enough.

She shouldn't have wanted more. She didn't need Jennie in her arms, Jennie in her bed, Jennie in her heart. Those things were frivolous, fake. Lisa had Jennie in her life.

It should have been enough.

'Should' was a word that had a grudge against Lisa.

There were too many 'should's. Should go to work. Should be polite to neighbors. Should keep volume of music down. Should not be in love with Jennie. Should not let Jennie be in love with her.

Should not murder mother in her sleep.

Lisa was having a hard time with the last one, lately.

"You have a responsibility to be a good neighbor, Lisa. You inherited more than just that house." The sound of her voice echoed unpleasantly from the phone pressed against Lisa's ear.

It was the third time Lisa had spoken to Irene in the last week – or, more accurately, been spoken to – and those were only the times Lisa had picked up the phone instead of simply unplugging it. Her mother hadn't called for months before Mrs. Park had apparently gone complaining to her about Lisa and her 'homeless guest.'

Lisa didn't see why she should call now only to complain about... whatever she was complaining about. Something.

"Uh huh," she mumbled in vague agreement when the rhythm of her voice slowed, expecting a response.

Jennie was neither homeless nor a guest. She belonged in the house, their home, more than Lisa ever had.

Maybe she didn't flip the lights on when it got dark and maybe she preferred the floor to a chair. Maybe she sang lyrics that didn't match the ones on the CDs and maybe she was disturbed by the phone, but she did belong. The paintings had names and the toaster was a friend.

"—boy," Irene was saying. "If you're going to be neighbors you might as well—"

"Yeah," Lisa said. "Cool."

The house felt emptier with Irene's voice in her ear. Lisa wandered down the hall, checking rooms until she found Jennie sitting on the counter in the bathroom. She was putting on her bow with careful precision.

Jennie had not finished yet, her bow looking funny, leaving her with a silly, lopsided appearance. Lisa spied on her from the doorway, wondering where her camera was. It would be worth it, she thought, to see the look on Jennie's face if Lisa got a picture of her like this.

"Lisa, are you listening to me right now?"

Lisa shifted the phone against her ear, meeting Jennie's gaze in the mirror. Jennie made a soft noise, either of disapproval or greeting, and quickly went to work on her unfinished bow. It was too bad, Lisa thought. She'd looked cute that way.

"Yeah, okay," Lisa agreed into the phone. "Sounds good. Talk to you later."

"Lisa–!"

Lisa hung up the phone. She tossed it aside, moving to stand at Jennie's back with a teasing smile. "Half normal person, half Jennie."

Jennie stuck her tongue out playfully, waving a hair pin in Lisa's direction. "I'll make you pretty too," she said. Lisa was sure it was a threat.