KICK IT | JENLISA

100

Lisa

"Lisa, she didn't deserve that!" Jackson rubbed his forehead. "You have no fucking clue what you just did, how much pain you've inflicted on her."

"That's the problem!" I wanted to rip my hair out or tear something apart with my bare hands. "I don't fucking know anything. She won't..."

"She's dealing with pain you can't understand." Irene's eyes weighed with the truth, which left me speechless.

In one admission, Jennie shifted from borderline toxic crazy to the strongest person I'd ever met... and myself the biggest asshole for how I treated her. I thought she had a fucked-up ex who left her with unrequited feelings. I leaned over onto my kitchen counters, the cold hard surface poking into my elbows, and stared until the light grey veins blurred away into the white.

Fuck, I was so wrong.

Mind-numbed and tongue-tied, I was shocked and speechless. Irene could have slapped me, which I deserved, and I wouldn't have felt the sting. Both fell silent, offered only averted eyes, and retreated behind Jennie. They didn't need to say more. The crushing weight of the truth was enough. Rendered thoughtless and action-less, I gaped at the darkness swallowing their departure. They rushed to her side, and glowing headlights shrunk off my property. My knees gave out, swaying under my weight. I palmed the trunk of the nearest car.

The question of 'how could I have known?' was replaced by 'how couldn't I have known' by the time my feet brought me back inside. Celebration was over, I kicked out the remaining guests to avoid their curious stares. My skin burned as I slammed my palms into every door shut and marched upstairs for a cold shower.

Her note on my bathroom mirror said it all. The pills stamped on Kendall's note. I wished she'd counted them. It would've verified my stubbornness wouldn't allow me to take prescription painkillers. Fuck, Nancy's false toxicology report was too good.

"I would've told her if she asked..." I muttered and shook my head. Hundreds of new phone messages, but none from her. Jackson was a wall of 'give her space' resistance, but fuck, I was so worried. His describing her as the strongest person I'd ever met, was true but didn't help our situation.

I couldn't help but shift my perspective of Jennie. She wasn't surrounded by thick walls but cracked eggshells. Why she was so fucking difficult made sense. The on-off switching and hot-cold emotions were crystal-clear. Mother bear-level protection of her classes. Afraid to allow herself to be happy and be cared for by another person, she punished herself with isolating, and self-sabotaging guilt.

Absent the details, I couldn't fully comprehend her situation. Small hints slipped into place, leaving both my heart bleeding and my brain confused. I had the border pieces of Jennie's puzzle, but the core interior pieces were scattered off the table. Her freak out over the truck, the ragged nails, her hair long and stringy, the yoga therapy...

I was so wrong about her. So, so wrong.