I. Tearing at the Seams
Jennie received her text just before work; Can we talk? Later? Paradou, 5. She’d been reading the same set of words since half past eight in the morning. She should’ve been at work by now, sitting by Jisoo, going through articles that needed the final revisions for next month's volume.
“Are you fine?” It's funny how Jennie can feel the worry and warmth through all this static from Jisoo’s voice.
“Yeah, I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”
“Nah, it’s fine Jendeukie… you take as much time as you need to.”
Did her voice give her away again?
“I gotta run, Wonwoo’s here.”
Jennie hears the familiar click and the usual busy tone right after. She slumps into the seat, staring at the steam from the coffee puffing out collectively in the air before it disappears. She licks her bottom lip out of habit, out of the building panic inside her.
She’s wearing Lisa’s favorite dress of hers, the lilac dress she bought off an obscure vintage shop when they were vacationing off Paris. She runs a hand over the fabric that’s pooling on the seat, smoothing any lumps and anything that seemed to look out of place. She wants to see Lisa’s eyes light up, wants to see her slow-building smile, her annoying little chuckle, and the way she’d lean in -- crossing her arms on the table top, slowly taking her time to reach out for her hand, right across. Hear her “You look beautiful.”, and the way her breath would hitch audibly.
Jennie stares out into the street, tucked in their usual spot; remembering how they’d spend countless afternoons watching people, back when they had time to spare. There’s something different pulling at her inside, where it settles heavily. She can’t quite stop running her hands against the fabric of her dress, trying to at least steady the growing panic that’s been bubbling over at the thought of it. She takes a deep breath and tries to clasp her hands together to get them to stop and somehow get her mind off of whatever bullshit it was coming up with. She doesn’t know what to expect. It’s been a while. Nine weeks, four days and half an afternoon, to be more precise. It’s been quite a while.
“Hey.”
She sounds far away, like she isn’t really there and all Jennie sees is a figment of her imagination. Something she’s conjured out of intense longing.
“Hey… I didn’t see you walk in?”
“Yeah, uhhh you were quite preoccupied with the view outside.” Lisa answers back gently, her smile askew. “It’s uh, it’s hot out isn’t it?”
Jennie nods, waits.
Lisa takes the seat opposite her a little too gruffly, and Jennie knows she had another tiring day from work. Knows her too well, far too well; Jennie knows what she’ll say next, how she’ll say it wasn’t anybody’s fault and how she'll try to fix things because she wants everybody winning, wants everybody to be happy when she isn’t even happy herself. Or at least she thought she knew her that well.
“Have you… have you been well today?”
Jennie smiles, Lisa was never great at hiding hesitance even though she’s great at hiding everything else.
“Fine.” She catches Lisa's eyes on her dress, sees the recognition. Jennie feels her heart get caught in her throat. “You?”
Tired.
“Tired... you… you look lovely.”
It isn’t what she was hoping for. Her eyes don’t light up, she doesn’t chuckle, she doesn’t reach out. She looks away, she fumbles with her fingers and she tries to smile awkwardly. It breaks Jennie into pieces.
“Yeah, uh… thank you.”
“Here, I wanted to… no, I… I will need you to sign these.”
Lisa slides the folder over to her side of the table, and Jennie stares at it like it’s something foreign, something that doesn’t belong there.
“Lisa…” She starts, just like every other night or day the last months. She sees her wince and knows she’ll be cut off right here.
“We’ve talked about this. We’ve decided this was for the best, didn’t we?”
Jennie doesn’t answer, just stares at the papers filed neatly inside the folder.
“Just sign them Jen…”
It’s breaking her, and she wants to think it's breaking Lisa, too. Wants to think it pains her the same way it’s hurting her. That she was secretly dying inside like her… She takes her cup of coffee and cradles it in her hands, hoping they wouldn’t shake as much as she feared they would. She feels cold all over, and the artificial warmth isn’t helping. It’s beginning to taste a bit off, staler than it usually was and growing cold. Jennie keeps the cup nestled between both hands as she looks out of the café windows.
Yup, cold.
She looks back at Lisa, sitting in front of her looking more and more indifferent.
“Is that all?” Jennie whispers.
“Do you really want to get hurt that much?” Lisa whispers back, weariness dripping from each word
The words sting. More than they should, more than Jennie was supposed to allow them to. She wants to say no, say she’s tired, say she’s longing for nothing but her warmth and her hug and her words and her kisses and her, but she doesn’t.
“I don’t want to make this difficult Jen..."
“Can’t we talk about it? We can… we--” What she’s doing now looks like a dying bird gasping for one last breath out of instinct.
“We’ve gone past that… I think. We don’t, we don’t even talk anymore.”
She says it plainly, like there was nothing else but that truth that exists between them and Jennie wants to scream and throw things at her and hurt her like she’s hurting her. Anything, anything right now to get her eyes to look at her with emotion. Empty, that’s all Jennie sees and it’s killing her. Sucking her into a blackhole where the pull was strong enough to kick her out of her own orbit.
She doesn’t know how long she’s been sitting there looking at the paper, she figures it must’ve been quite a while because Lisa reaches out a little too impatiently and places the pen beside her idle hands.
Jennie doesn’t know which hurts more; knowing the truth or forcing herself to believe a lie.
Divorce Agreement
She takes the pen and scribbles her signature.
It takes less than two minutes for her to slide it back to Lisa, pick her bag up, look Lisa in the eyes and say the words she wished she had told her everyday.
“I love you.”
Lisa looks back and smiles softly, a tinge of sadness in her eyes;
“I loved you too.”