* * * * *
Her night out was even worse than she could have imagined. Lisa pressed her constantly about Jisoo, even though she had made it quite clear that it was the very last topic she wanted to discuss. She still stayed over at Lisa's rather than return home, however: Lisa's nosiness was marginally preferable to facing Jisoo, who was already planning her new life. She brushed Lisa off with the explanation that she couldn't bear spending any more time with Bogum and didn't want to get pulled into moving him into his new apartment. Lisa didn't believe her, and she didn't care.
When she eventually roused herself the following morning, she still couldn't face returning to their apartment, so she went out drinking. She drank steadily and without any relish all day. She drank like every sip was a punishment to be endured and returned home well into the small hours.
Most of the traces of Bogum were gone from the apartment. More tellingly, Jisoo was gone from her bed; Jennie assumed she had moved back into her old room. It was not a complete surprise, but it still made her die a little bit inside. Jisoo also wasn't there when she woke up. There was no note. She took a bottle of vodka from the kitchen and holed up in her music room.
She woke to find Jisoo leaning against the doorframe, her arms folded and her feet crossed at the ankles. Despite her casual stance, Jennie could tell that her wife was angry.
"Hey," she tried, struggling into a seated position, knowing that she must look exactly as bad as she felt. Her head was spinning and her mouth dry. Her bare foot connected with the empty bottle of vodka, sending it skittering across the floor. She watched it with shame.
"So, is this going to be a regular thing?" Jisoo asked wearily.
"What?"
"You crawling into a bottle and disappearing for days on end?"
Jennie just shrugged. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't sound defensive or petulant.
"Because I thought we had this discussion before. Remember? Last time, when you faithfully promised that you would never do it again? That you wouldn't let me think you were cooling your heels in the drunk tank or lying in some hospital bed or worse? That you'd talk to me first?"
Jennie pressed her hand to her forehead. She thought about pointing out that, unlike the previous occasion, her phone had not been full of messages and calls, and that maybe if Jisoo was so worried, she could have called. That maybe if Jisoo had shown even an ounce of caring, she would have come home in an instant. Instead, she shrugged again. "I told you I was staying at Lisa's."
Jisoo rubbed the back of her neck with her hand. "No, you said you were going out with her. Two days ago."
"I decided to stay."
"Long enough that you couldn't be here to help Bogum with moving?"
She shrugged a third time. "I was out." She turned her head away. She didn't want Jisoo to see that she was getting upset by both her wife's obvious disappointment and her own behaviour.
"Out?" Jisoo echoed. She shook her head scornfully. "That's all you've got? You're gone for two whole days and all you have is that you were out?" Jisoo hadn't even raised her voice. She sounded tired and resigned. To Jennie, that was worse than shouting. "Oh, it went fine, by the way. Bogum's move. He bought you something, to thank you for putting up with him all this time. It's in the kitchen."
"What is it?"
"I don't know. It's for you. I didn't open it. Maybe if you hadn't been quite so drunk, you'd have noticed and opened it yourself by now."
Jennie could hear the pain in Jisoo's voice, and winced. "Maybe."
"You're not going to tell me, are you?"
"What?"
"Whatever it is that's bothering you."
Even though she was in the wrong, she was still more than a little offended that Jisoo couldn't work out what the matter was. "There's nothing to tell."
"Really?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Right."
Jisoo unfolded her arms and pushed herself off the wall. Shaking her head, she turned away and left the room. Jennie smoothed down her rumpled clothing before she followed her wife. In the living room, Jisoo was pacing back and forth, her body tense with anger.
"Look, I-"
"Do you know what really offends me, Jen?" Jisoo asked, not letting her speak. "That you still don't fucking trust me after everything we've been through together. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know that we haven't always been completely open with each other, and I take my fair share of the blame for that, because there have definitely been things that I've left unsaid as well, but I don't treat you like you're some afterthought in my life."
Seriously? That was what Jisoo thought?
"I called Lisa yesterday," Jisoo continued. "Because I thought you probably had just decided to stay over. She didn't know where you were. And she sounded embarrassed, although I don't know why she was embarrassed when I was the one who didn't know where my wife was. And I kept thinking, 'She knows Bogum's moving today. She'll call or text any minute now.' But you didn't. I waited all day, and you never did."
"You could have texted me," Jennie said quietly, knowing that she would be better just saying nothing, but feeling aggrieved nonetheless.
"I could've, you're right. But why should I? I wasn't the one who ran away, Jennie. I was right here, pretending to my brother and your sister that everything was okay when everything was very far from okay." She stared right at Jennie, her eyes red-rimmed and her lower lip trembling. "Why should I always be the one who reaches out to you, when you never want to reach out to me?"
"Reach out? Like when you told me that you thought we shouldn't see each other while Bogum was here?"
"You suggested that, not me."
"But it was what you wanted!"
"I agreed to it because I thought it was what you wanted! All I was trying to do was get you to tell me what you were thinking, how you were feeling, but every time I think we're getting somewhere, we just don't."
"So why didn't you tell me what you wanted?"
"Because you've never once asked me! Have you ever trusted me enough to say, 'Hey, Jisoo, what do you think we should do?' No, you haven't! Not once. I have pushed you, cajoled you and done everything I can think of to get you to open up to me, but you never have. I have thrown myself at you, Jennie, physically and emotionally. And every time, you have retreated."
"When? When did you do that?"
"Who kissed you first, Jennie? Who gave up their apartment? Who climbed into bed with you in the middle of the night and held you? Who asked you if we were dating, only to be told that we were just friends hanging out? Who pushed you on our first date-that you wouldn't even admit was a date-to admit that it would bother you if I was seeing someone?" Jisoo paused and lowered her voice, her tone even yet somehow pointed. "Who ignored the fact that you slept with someone else?"
"I did not!"
"You came home reeking of sex and another woman!"
She had thought she had got away with that, because Jisoo had never mentioned anything. It was a surprise to learn that Jisoo had always known, but said nothing. "I didn't actually have sex with her," she mumbled.
Jisoo shook her head, a mocking smile on her lips. "In what sense? Did you stop at third base? Did you fuck her and convince yourself that it's not really cheating if she doesn't touch you? How does that work, Jennie?"
"I didn't really do anything with her because I realised that you were the only one I wanted! And I only hooked up in the first place because I thought you were sleeping with Seulgi."
"Which I wasn't! Which you would have known if you had asked. But you didn't. You happily assumed that I would sleep with someone else."
"That's unfair. I apologised for the Seulgi thing."
"You only apologised because someone else told you that you were wrong!" Jisoo pinched the bridge of her nose. "Anyway, we've been over this before and I sure as shit don't want to go over it again. I'm just done with this, Jennie. I'm honestly more upset at myself for thinking things might change."
"Change how?"
"I'm sick of trying all by myself, just for you to run away every time things aren't the way you want them to be. I just can't live under the constant suspicion that I'm somehow not as invested as you are. Especially when you won't tell me how you feel." Jisoo started pacing. "I waited the other day for you to say something when I got the IRS letter. It wouldn't have taken much. All you needed to say was 'stay'. Just one word, but you said nothing, except to tell me that I was free to quit my job. You sulked off and waited for me to say something instead. And when I called you after seeing Phil, and invited you out to celebrate, the two of us, together, you still didn't say it. You just assumed that I was going to leave you. I mean, that's what all this is about, right? You think I'm just going to up and take off now I've got my green card."
Jennie shrugged.
"You seriously think that I would just fuck and run now that I'm a US citizen?"
"I don't know." There was something so raw about the fact that Jisoo was swearing in that way. It doubled Jennie's shame instantly.
"And there we have it. After everything I've just said, you still really believe I'd do that, don't you?" Jisoo shook her head sadly. "I'm going to go stay at Irene's for a while. I think we both need a break from each other."
"So, in other words, you are leaving me?" Jennie said bitterly.
Jisoo gave her a withering glance. "Seriously? You're going to put this on me?" She shook her head.
"Well, I think we need to work on this together."
"But that's my point! That's what I've wanted all along, but you've wanted to do everything your way without bothering to tell me what that is."
"But I love you, Jis!" She winced. It wasn't the way she should be telling her wife how she felt, but she had no other cards to play.
The pain in Jisoo's eyes cut through her. "You think I don't love you, too? Do you know how much easier this would be if I wasn't completely in love with you?"
"You what?"
"I love you, Jennie, and you know that. The same way that I know that you love me. I'm just not convinced that it's enough for either of us."
"It's enough for me!"
"Not enough to trust me. Not enough to believe in me." Jisoo's voice was tiny and lost as she added, "Not enough to believe in us." She walked away, shaking her head as much to herself as to Jennie.
This time when Jisoo left the room, Jennie didn't follow.
* * *
She was sitting at a café-bar, contemplating her usual breakfast which comprised three glasses lined up in a row: Pepto-Bismol, an energy drink and some low-fat milk. She drank them in that order, throwing each back and moving on to the next like a seasoned alcoholic knocking off shots. Once her medicines, as she thought of them, staved off the worst of her hangover, her final reward would be the white cup of strong, black coffee-sadly, not Hawaiian Kona, not Jisoo's coffee-to her right.
She pushed her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose and tucked her right hand inside the waistband of her shorts, holding onto her heaving stomach. Maybe she needed a diet which wasn't based around alcohol. Without it, though, memories of Jisoo came flooding back too easily. The drink stopped her from imagining that she could hear Jisoo's voice, its soft tone calling to her, beckoning her home. It stopped her from thinking that her wife might appear at any moment, no matter how unlikely that was.
There had only ever been two places where she was completely happy: in Jisoo's arms and island hopping in Greece with her father when she was a teenager. She couldn't have one, so she had seriously considered the other; she had looked into the price of flights and chartering a yacht, but without someone to share the experience the islands would have been beautiful but empty to her. As she reviewed the websites, all she could think about was how much Jisoo would love each town, each restaurant, each hidden cove, each stretch of sea.
If she couldn't go to Greece, she could at least do the next best thing: she was drinking Ouzo at her new favourite hang-out, a Greek café-bar not far from her apartment. The irony had amused her, and she had been visiting on-and-off for the month since Jisoo had left. The staff were now used to her ways. Her day began with her hangover cure, then coffee and morning drinks. Depending on how she was feeling, she sometimes returned for evening drinks, although she wasn't fond of the crowds.
She knew that the staff speculated about her; she felt their stares and their hushed conversations. She made it clear on the first day that she didn't want to talk to anyone and they respected that, mostly because she was polite and she tipped well. Some of the waiters had even stepped in when hopeful young men tried to persuade her to join them. In her case, misery neither loved nor wanted company. All she wanted was to be somewhere other than her apartment; since Jisoo had left, it wasn't a home any more and she couldn't bear to be there.
She sipped the bitter coffee and stared out at the street. The sun was beating down so hard that the asphalt shimmered. The mid-morning heat was becoming unbearable even under the canvas awning which shielded the café's tables from the worst of the sun.
She couldn't escape the fact that she was still deeply, miserably in love with her wife. No alcohol could dull the ache of not having Jisoo. And she knew that it was her fault. At first, she left it a few days for Jisoo to cool off. Then, she didn't call because she didn't know what to say other than beg forgiveness again. She had nothing to offer Jisoo. She was the same person that her wife had left, albeit considerably more miserable from the fact of her wife leaving. She couldn't even promise to change because she was still hiding from her problems through drink.
The longer she waited to speak to Jisoo, the harder it became. Now, it wasn't just a case of what she would say, but how she would explain the fact that it had taken her so many weeks to say it. Now, it was trying to convince Jisoo how much she needed her when she had done nothing to show that at all. She couldn't think of a single reason to give Jisoo to take her back.
She had no sooner finished her first coffee than a waiter appeared at her side, an Ouzo, a glass of ice water and a second cup of coffee in his hands. He placed them down silently and removed the three empty glasses.
She picked up her ice water and poured it into the Ouzo, watching the clear liquid turn opaque. She normally hated the taste of aniseed, but there was something addictive about the Greek spirit which allowed her to ignore that. Maybe her mind was tricked by the fact that its milky, greenish colour looked like it should taste of peppermint.
Her phone buzzed against the table. She looked down at the screen.
Lisa.
She declined the call and turned the phone off. She texted her sister every day, but she still wasn't ready to talk to anyone yet.
She tossed her drink back and gestured to the barman again. Another Ouzo and a fresh ice water were brought promptly. She lifted the water glass to her forehead, relishing the cold.
Stelios, the day manager, brought over a basket of sliced bread and two shallow bowls, one with olive oil, the other with some kind of balsamic. He placed a hand on her shoulder and patted it.
"You need to eat something," he announced gruffly.
"Efharisto," she mumbled. It was the only word of Greek she knew (apart from Ouzo). Stelios nodded and withdrew.
She picked up a slice of bread, which was still warm and smelled rich and comforting. Her growling stomach overruled her stubbornness. She broke it in two and dipped one piece in both liquids, watching the vinegar try to repel the viscous oil. It tasted as good as she had anticipated. She finished off every slice in record time, stuffing her mouth so full that she could barely chew.
Once she had eaten, she slumped back in her chair, her desire for the second drink gone. She picked up her cooling coffee instead.
Remorse overtook her and she turned her phone back on. Three alerts appeared on the screen: a missed call, a text and an email, all from Lisa. Every time she checked her phone, a tiny part of her held out the hope that there might be something from Jisoo. But Jisoo had never called, never texted.
You can't hide from me forever, the text message read. She grunted. Lisa didn't know her as well as she thought.
She opened the email. It had a PDF attachment and the message said, Jisoo sent me this. You need to read it. Also, stop drinking and grow a pair.
She took off her sunglasses and propped the phone against her untouched glass of Ouzo while she waited for the scanned document to download. As the characters on the first page went from indistinct blobs to clear words, she could see that it was from the INS. It was the final report from the field agents. Scrolling down with her finger, she saw the transcript of her interview with Eaves. After that, there was the transcript of Jisoo's interview. It was a lot less confrontational than Jennie's had been, but a lot of the same questions had been asked anyway. Jennie skipped the domestic detail until she got to the good stuff.
Was Jisoo in love with her wife? More than she had thought possible.
Were they in love when they married? She couldn't answer for her wife, but she couldn't imagine any bride being happier than she was when they were pronounced married.
Jennie enjoyed both the sophistry of her wife's answer and the fact that, without discussing it in advance, they essentially said the same thing.
Why had she continued to see her former girlfriend after the marriage? It was stupid. She was scared that her wife didn't feel the same way about her and she had sought comfort. She knew immediately that it was wrong and had called it off. She had changed her shift patterns to minimise their contact, given up her old apartment, even though it had cost her most of her savings, and recommitted herself fully to her marriage.
Did she want her marriage to work? Of course. Didn't everyone?
It was the next part that stung the most. The transcript noted that Jisoo paused and took a drink before continuing.
"My wife," Jennie read, "is kind and loving and thoughtful, but guarded and afraid. I genuinely think she would do anything to make me happy. Her own happiness, however, is a different matter. She doesn't accept that anyone could possibly love her at all. But I do, and I always will. I want nothing more than the chance to show her that for the rest of our lives, if she'll only let me."
Throwing a fifty-dollar bill on the table, Jennie gathered up her things and headed home. As she had recently been advised, she needed to sober up and grow a pair.
* * *
Two days later, clean, sober and almost paralysed with fear, Jennie knocked on Irene's door. She was disappointed that it was Irene, a sleeping Yeri slung over her shoulder, who answered. Irene held a finger to her lips in a hushing gesture and beckoned Jennie inside.
She waited as the other woman put the little girl to bed. She looked around the large living area, which looked exactly like she expected an artist's apartment might. She was particularly drawn to a huge abstract canvas hung on one wall. The colours were incredibly vivid, and the painting made her feel about forty things all at once. Irene was certainly talented.
She also spotted some family photos arranged on a low table by the window. Two of them were of her and Jisoo: their wedding day and one of them with Yeri, taken by Bogum the day he first came home. Jennie wished she could go back to that day and do everything from then on differently. Actually, maybe she could go back to their wedding day and do everything differently; her first matter of business would be holding her wife and never letting her go.
"Sorry about that."
Jennie turned around. "It's quite okay. The munchkin always comes first."
"She misses you. Yeri, I mean." Irene moved to a bookcase and started rummaging around, muttering something to herself. "Jisoo, too, of course."
Jennie grimaced. "I miss them. I miss Jisoo."
"Figured." Irene reached between two large books and located the item she was looking for. "She's not here, but she left this for you."
Jennie took the proffered item and examined it. It was a small square envelope containing a computer disk. Her name was written on it in Jisoo's handwriting. "I don't suppose..." she shook her head. It wasn't fair to ask Irene if she knew what it was or what it meant. "Never mind. Do you know where she is?"
The other woman folded her arms across her chest and stared Jennie down with no small amount of distrust. "Honestly? Yes, I do."
"And you're not going to tell me?"
"Why should I? It doesn't seem to have bothered you for the past month."
Jennie couldn't complain; she'd earned any number of cheap shots that Irene wanted to take at her. She bit her lip and chose her words carefully. "Just because I am too stupid to act on my feelings doesn't mean I don't have them. No matter what else you think of me, you have to know that I am so in love with her that I am barely hanging on without her. Hell, I can barely hang on when I'm with her. But she is my whole fucking world and I need to see her. I need to tell her that I'm sorry and that I feel like I can't even breathe without her."
Irene tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Bogum said he'd never seen anyone so in love."
"As me?"
"As the two of you."
"But you know the truth, right? You know we're not really married."
Irene laughed, a sound that was both bitter and pitying. "You really are a fool if you think that you're not actually married."
"You know what I mean."
"The question is whether you want to stay married," Irene said.
"I do, more than anything else in this world, even if she doesn't."
"Why would you think she doesn't?"
"She left me."
Irene shrugged. "The way I heard it, you left first."
"I came back."
"Oh, well, that makes it all okay then." Irene's body language and withering glare seemed to imply that she didn't really think it was okay.
"I left for a couple of days! She moved all her stuff out."
"It's only in the basement."
"Here?"
"No, at your place. The doorman-Adam?"
"Anthony," Jennie supplied.
"Well, he helped her move it to your storage in the basement."
Jennie didn't even know that her building had basement storage. And Anthony wasn't exactly talking to her. In their brief recent exchanges, she got the distinct feeling that he was either disappointed in her or sorry for her-maybe both. He liked Jisoo a lot. And who could blame him? A person would have to work really hard not to love Jisoo.
"I've been a complete fool, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have, but I'm not the one who needs to hear it."
"She's not answering her phone. She's left her job at the station. She's not here. Bogum wouldn't even talk to me. You won't tell me where she is. How can I tell her?"
Irene pointed to the disk in Jennie's hand. "Everything you need to know is on that." She looked in the direction of her daughter's bedroom. "And I'm going to go check on Yeri."
Jennie looked at her in confusion. "Uh, sure, I should go anyway."
Irene rolled her eyes. "The laptop's there." She pointed to a low table. "Help yourself. It'll save you the trip home."
Jennie was uncertain. "Are you sure you don't mind?"
Irene pursed her lips. "You love her?"
"God, yes."
"You're never going to hurt her again?"
"Never."
Irene nodded. "Laptop's there. Let yourself out when you're done."
Jennie dropped to her knees and flipped the lid on the computer, taking the disk from its sleeve. "Irene?"
"Yes?" the other woman said, pausing in the doorway.
"Thanks for this."
"Don't thank me. Thank your wife."
Jennie nodded and turned her attention to the computer screen as Irene left her alone.
The screen was blank for a couple of seconds and then some very familiar music started playing. It was one of her own compositions, an instrumental piece which Jisoo had admired. She had never told her wife that it had been inspired by her; she had the feeling that Jisoo knew anyway.
An image flashed on the screen. It was black and white, early twentieth century, of a girl with a dunce's cap on. She looked a little like Lilian Gish. Perhaps that was intentional, as the next image was a page of text, reminiscent of the dialogue inserts from a silent movie.
You're an idiot.
There followed a series of stills of vintage movie stars in foolish poses, many of them slapping their heads at their own stupidity.
No, I mean you're really stupid.
She burst out laughing. More images of silent stars followed. She recognised Laurel and Hardy, Harold Lloyd and WC Fields from the montage.
But I knew you were stupid when I married you.
There was a picture from their wedding, also in black and white. They were holding hands in front of the celebrant. To the untrained eye, they looked blissfully happy.
And I guess that makes me stupid for marrying you.
Image after image from their wedding day appeared on screen. Suddenly, Jennie could feel the tears start to stream down her face. The pictures coupled with the music that she had composed for Jisoo were too much for her.
But I don't regret it.
The next series of images were of Central Park, downtown Manhattan, Coney Island: all the places they had gone on dates.
And you really don't deserve this...
An image of a familiar building.
But I'm staying at the Plaza.
The next dialogue card flashed up immediately and made Jennie laugh through her ugly tears, a slobbering laugh of pure delight.
(Don't worry-you're paying!)
The sequence from their wedding day played again, slower this time, as the music faded down. Jennie was pretty certain now that she had fallen in love with her wife that day, the moment they had kissed for the first time. The moment Jisoo had kissed her for the first time, she corrected herself.
The little movie ended and the screen went to black again. Jennie wiped her tears away, and then gave another startled laugh as Jisoo surprised her one last time.
A final card popped up on the screen.
It simply read, Seriously, what are you still doing there?
It was a damn fine question.
* *©Devje* *