Wait for me to come Home

Chapter 63

They spent the next week hurriedly planning the funeral – or rather, Yuri did. Jennie spent most of her time shut up in Lisa's room, ignoring everyone as she lay in bed and tried to pretend like Lisa was downstairs in the kitchen, making coffee and breakfast for them both as she hummed along to the radio. If there was one place that she strongly associated with Lisa, it was Yuri's, even though she'd spent more time here without Lisa than with her. Her memory was etched into the very walls of the place – in the photos placed around the apartment, in the wind chimes that clinked together whenever Jennie mustered up the strength to go and sit on the back porch, but most of all, she was everywhere in her bedroom. Jennie thought it had been bad enough being in her apartment – but here, she couldn't escape Lisa.

After the first week, Jennie found that she was numb in a different way. She was still heartbroken and in mourning, but she was also angry. It wasn't fair that Lisa had been taken away from her – she deserved it the least out of everyone in the world – and Jennie took her anger out on her mom. Part of the reason why was because she already had so much anger towards Chaerin that she'd been letting go of over the past few months, and it was so easy to drag it back up again, and another reason was because Jennie felt like she couldn't breathe. Perhaps it was because her mom had never been there to look after Jennie as a child, but she felt like she was suffocating, like Chaerin was smothering her. Jennie would regret it the moment she snapped, because she was being cruel, and it didn't help, but at the same time, she couldn't bring herself to care too much. In some ways, it was like when she was a teenager, and had caused as much pain and trouble as she could for Chaerin, just out of spite. It wasn't fair to either of them, but Jennie was falling to pieces and she didn't know how to make it stop, and she was grateful that her mom was kind and patient, spending hours holding Jennie or when she finally left her alone, helping Yuri plan the funeral. If Jennie had spent more time around everyone together, she might've found it weird that it seemed like her mom and Yuri were good friends, and Yuri heavily relied on Chaerin to help her make the funeral arrangements, as well as for comfort.

She didn't truly move or function like a person until Saturday – the day of Lisa's funeral. Jennie had stopped taking her sleeping pills a few nights back, which contributed to her bad mood, and last night she hadn't slept at all. The dread of the funeral had kept her awake all night, thinking about the empty casket and the grave that would mark the spot where nothing but Lisa's memory would lie. At six o'clock, Jennie swung her legs out of bed, and sat on the edge as she fiddled with the chain in her hand. It was Lisa's ID tags, returned to Yuri a few days ago, along with the rest of her belongs. The tags were the only thing left of Lisa that they'd found in the wreckage of the explosion, and Jennie clutched the little metal rectangles so tightly in her hand that they etched deep lines into her palms.

For almost two hours Jennie sat there, gripping the tags and staring out through the curtains she hadn't closed last night. She stared blankly with a glazed over expression, not really seeing anything as she replayed dozens of memories of Lisa over and over again. It wasn't until Yuri knocked on the bedroom door and poked her head in that Jennie stirred.

"Good morning," she said quietly, and Jennie didn't even turn around.

"She's supposed to be home today," Jennie whispered, feeling numb all over. "I promised her I'd be waiting for her at the airport ten hours early with a bouquet of flowers, and instead, I'm putting flowers on her grave."

"Shh, it's okay, I know. I know it hurts," Yuri softly said, stepping inside. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No," Jennie admitted.

Yuri quietly tutted as she crossed the room and laid a gentle hand on Jennie's shoulder. "You need your strength today, sweetheart."

"I don't think sleep is going to help," Jennie whispered, opening her hand to stare down at the dog tags.