Lisa
Had Jennie and I met under different circumstances, things would have just been... right. Things would have been normal, and perhaps she would be here with me tonight rather than demanding time and space and likely never wanting to see me again.
But would I have given her an opportunity to get this close without the bet? I would have pushed her away at the very first inkling of attachment I felt, scared and without an ulterior motive to keep her around. And would we have even met? I never approach women in bars; I have a few drinks and women normally sidle up next to me for small talk and flirtation. I highly doubt Jennie would have been one of those women.
"I know it is," I say morosely. "I'm sorry. I really liked Jennie, too."
"You did?" she asks hopefully.
"Yes," I say, hoping to pour every ounce of honesty I can into that one word. "I like her a lot, Rosé. I haven't stopped thinking about her since all of this has gone down. She consumes me. I can't take it anymore."
Spilling my guts to my sister - to the one person who truly understands me and won't judge - actually feels good.
"Then why are you apologizing to me? You need to talk to Jennie!"
"I've tried, Rosé. She doesn't want to hear it anymore. She wants space."
Rosé gasps. For a moment, I wonder if I've said something wrong.
"Are you giving her space?" she inquires. I'm relieved that I may actually be doing something right.
"Yes, yes. Of course," I quickly assure her.
"No!" she exclaims, causing me to jump in surprise. "She doesn't want space! God, why are you so dense!"
I'm alarmed at her sudden outburst. "What are you talking about?"
"What have you done for her? Flowers? Card? Poems? Carved an ice statue commemorating your love?"
Now I'm very confused. "I sent her flowers," I say, my voice somewhat defensive. "But that was before she talked to me. And when we talked, I promised her I'd leave her alone if she wanted me to - that all I wanted was to explain myself."
"You haven't sent her anything since then?" she asks, appalled.
"I, uh... I took a stuffed cat and put it on her desk at work yesterday. She wasn't there."
As I say it out loud, I realize my one little attempt at contact was actually kind of pathetic. In fact, it's probable she didn't even like the cat - it was kind of ugly. And then a horrifying thought crosses my mind.
Dear God, I hope I didn't offend her!
Before I can voice any of my fears, Rosé asks, "A cat? Why a cat?"
"Oh, um... she babysat a cat for a friend of Hae-in. It just made me think of her. It was probably a stupid idea-"
Rosé interrupts my rambling.
"No, no. I like that. You're right, it is thoughtful. You need to send her more stuff."
I still don't understand. "Are you sure about this? She said she needed space..."
"If you give her space she's going to think you don't care! You don't want her to think that, do you?"
"No..."
"All right, so just listen to me. You need to keep it thoughtful. Girls like that. So tell me something about her."
Crap. I suddenly can't think of a thing. It's as if my whole brain is seizing in horror at being put on the spot. Then a thought occurs to me. "She likes the movie The Big Lebowski."
"Perfect! Get her something to do with the movie. Maybe a soundtrack CD if it has good music or an autographed picture from one of the actors. What else you got?"
"Umm...she made me Tiramisu once."
"God, I love tiramisu!" she gushes in excitement. "You should have some sent to her work during her lunch break! And send me some too while you're at it!"
I chuckle, feeling lighter than I have in days. Prior to talking to Rosé, the heavy weight on my shoulders had been crushing. Now it's manageable, and perhaps, in a perfect world, Rosé's plan will work and I'll be free of it completely.
I start the very next day. I begin small, choosing something simple. I have my assistant deliver a scooter lesson gift certificate to her office and pray that she will see the humour in the gift.
For lunch, I have tiramisu catered to her work.
She doesn't contact me. I have no indication that she's received the gifts at all, despite her secretary's hurried assurance that she placed the gift certificate on her desk herself.
The next day, I have all five seasons of Lost on DVD delivered to her apartment, unable to remember which ones she already owns, and I also send a Grease soundtrack CD. I refrain from delivering them myself, wanting to give Jennie the option of making the first contact.
If she ever chooses to do so, that is, because I get nothing from her once again.
On Wednesday, I receive a confirmation that The Big Lebowski rug replica was delivered to her apartment and signed for. I receive comfort from the fact that she is, indeed, receiving my gifts, but the fact that she isn't contacting me to acknowledge them is disheartening.
On Thursday, I leave work early with another gift in mind. I take a Polaroid picture of my replacement headboard and write a ridiculous poem on the back - hopefully something to get her attention and make her smile. I deliver it to her office myself and ask the secretary to carry it to her desk.