Jennie

By Gloria

Alyssa

On July 1st, 1995, Jennie came. It’s my Jennie. She mine.

After Jennie’s death in 1985, I moved to this one-bedroom apartment alone. I’ve always been living here.

Ten years later, Jennie came to me. She stood in the doorway. She looked young, just like she was ten years ago when she was killed. So I opened the door and let her in. My neighbor Mr. Sage passed by, “Hi Alyssa! Why did you open your door? I saw no one.” I closed my door. I’m not insane or something. I can see her. Jennie. My Jennie.

Since her death, I think of her constantly. Sometimes when I’m doing my chores, sometimes when I’m putting on my lipsticks, and sometimes when I’m in the middle of saying something. I think of her. She wouldn’t have died. It’s my fault. I should have run away with her. I should have stayed with her for a lifetime.

I met Jennie one day before her death. That was ten years ago. I was 19 then. I was kicked out of my parents’ house because they found out that I’m a, this word used to traumatize me, lesbian. My father’s fists almost separated the dining room. My mother’s tears dropped on the floor of the bathroom.

I got in my car--the car that my parents abandoned. Driving randomly was the only thing in my mind. Mascaras ran down my cheeks. I opened the car window. The sea breeze was salty, and my black tears too. It was getting late. I was getting tired. A bar on the corner of the highway caught my eyes. The bar sign read “ Blue.” Blue Bar. Funny name.

Jennie

That was one hot and dry day in June 1985. Midas put his hands on me again. I called him Midas because he believed that I was a stone and he could turn me to gold. In those mid-nights, when he said he was too busy at work to come home, I always felt the vacancy deep in my heart. Yet later, I learned that at the same time, one or more than one of the women he met in clubs or on the streets lying naked in his office bed.

I yelled at him with all of my strength. He said with fury, "If you can have a little respect, or if you can be like a wife, I might be able to make you gold."

Then I never let him touch me again, and I told him, "I am not a doll for you to play with when you get bored or a puppet that needs your money." So I said, "I'm leaving you, and I'm leaving you forever."

I have spent enough nights sitting on the uncleaned bathroom floor, trying to find some peace behind the half-closed wooden door.

I drove away in my white Chevy, driving away from the house we once called home. Having no idea how many minutes had passed, I spotted a bar called Blue. Well, it's a perfect match, because right now I feel blue.

I untied my hair and got off my car after checking it in the rearview mirror.

Alyssa

I never thought I could fall in love that night. Jennie was the prettiest in the bar. I came to her, and we talked. We talked a lot. It turned out we both had the kind of life. Terrible life. After a few shots, she asked, “Are you of drinking age yet?” “ No. I don’t care.”

Her eyes were flashing like highway signs, guiding me but also making me get lost.

We started to dance. Dance slowly. My heart was pumping. The lights went dim. The bartender was squeezing a lemon. Juice ran down the whiskey cup. In the shadow, we started to kiss. Kiss hard. I can feel her soft hair. Her hair was touching my cheek. Then her lips did too. She was stunning, but she looked tired. The kind of tiresome that went far beyond her age. She was 22 then. A little bit elder than me. But overall, we were both young.

I never thought I could fall in love that night.

I hoped the smokescreen and the darkness covered us well so no one could see. I was a little bit afraid. I was scared of being myself. I was afraid of, well, kissing a girl. I was scared of the way others treated people like me. I’m brave from the outside. But inside, I’m a total coward. For all my teenage life, I’ve sought to be recognized by others. However, it turned out I could never be recognized. My parents didn’t. The whole society didn’t. I mean, never. I really mean.

Alyssa

I never thought I could fall in love that night. Jennie was the prettiest in the bar. I came to her, and we talked. We talked a lot. It turned out we both had the kind of life. Terrible life. After a few shots, she asked, “Are you of drinking age yet?” “ No. I don’t care.”

Her eyes were flashing like highway signs, guiding me but also making me get lost.

We started to dance. Dance slowly. My heart was pumping. The lights went dim. The bartender was squeezing a lemon. Juice ran down the whiskey cup. In the shadow, we started to kiss. Kiss hard. I can feel her soft hair. Her hair was touching my cheek. Then her lips did too. She was stunning, but she looked tired. The kind of tiresome that went far beyond her age. She was 22 then. A little bit elder than me. But overall, we were both young.

I never thought I could fall in love that night.

I hoped the smokescreen and the darkness covered us well so no one could see. I was a little bit afraid. I was scared of being myself. I was afraid of, well, kissing a girl. I was scared of the way others treated people like me. I’m brave from the outside. But inside, I’m a total coward. For all my teenage life, I’ve sought to be recognized by others. However, it turned out I could never be recognized. My parents didn’t. The whole society didn’t. I mean, never. I really mean.

Jennie

I haven’t gone to a bar since I got married. Though it’s not long, I got married last year. My life became plain then, and I even started tying my hair up. It’s funny because the first time I went to a bar was like high school. So technically, I could not drink at all, but still I went there with my high school best friends, who I hadn’t talked to since we graduated.

I’m so surprised to see the girl here. She reminded me of myself when I was younger. More surprisingly, she came to me when I was staring at her, and she said her name was Alyssa. I love that name. Then, she told me I was beautiful. To be honest, I’ve heard much of this by the frat boys and oily men. I seldom get flattered. But this time, her saying this made me dizzy. It’s so sincere.

I asked Alyssa to dance, and she seemed amazed. She clung to my body, and I put my cheek on hers.

At that very moment, I told myself: I will never go home. I wanna stay with her forever.

It’s almost midnight, and we decided to leave the bar. Walking out of the door, I tried to reach for Alyssa’s hand, but she refused me.

“People are watching us,” she said.

We spent the rest of that night in a motel near the bar. Alyssa danced with only her colored tube socks on. Then she smoked some joints under the shelter of the balcony when I was writing poems for her, dumping my elbow on the bathroom sink. After finishing, I was a little shy to read them aloud. I kinda wanted to make it a surprise for her, my Alyssa, so I found her jeans and put the paper in her pocket. Before bed, I whispered to her ear: “Put on your jeans first when you wake up the next morning.”

It was when night faded that Alyssa fell asleep. Her breath was gentle, and I watched her back in the early morning sunlight, wishing I could write my name on it.

That night, I kept thinking about what is love and how could I love someone I had just met. Is this really love?

I think I figured it out.

Alyssa, she sees me. She sees my struggle, my plight, my heart. She tells me it’s not my fault. She tells me I’ve done enough. She tells me I’m pretty. She soothes my aching body and aching soul. Hey Alyssa. I don’t really believe in true love, and I don’t really believe in the falling-love-at-the-first-sight thing. But I believe in you. But I think that the genuine connection with you, seen by you, understood by you, the wounds licked by you, the thighs kissed by you, these moments are worth remembering forever.

The poem I wrote for you starts with “ You clutched my brain and eased my ailing.”

White sheets, dim lights, and crooked teeth. This is right where it begins. I really fell in love that night and far more than that night. To be frank, for the rest of my life.

Alyssa, why are you hiding? Why are you fleeing from me?

The next morning I woke up with you. You asked what we should do next. “We should run. We run away forever. From the Purple Bar to the edges of the world. Go somewhere that we can stay with each other forever.” I said.

Your hand was holding mine, and I could feel it sweat. Your lips hung heavy underneath me. I thought I was getting small by holding you tight.

“I’m sorry, Jennie. I’m so sorry. It won’t work. We’d better not see each other from now on, or I’ll never forget you. I love you, Jennie. I love you, so I must leave you. It won’t work. We will not be accepted by this world. Two women. Jennie, I can’t run. We can’t run.”

We can’t run.

I went home.

Alyssa

Dear Jennie. My Jennie. It's my fault. It's my fault. Yes, I know. I read the newspaper in town. I know. He shot you in your neck during the fight with you. I never thought it would end like that.

My neighbors asked me why I kept crying all day. I never told anyone about us. This is not a story to pass on. I probably should forget you to love myself. But I can't. Jennie, I can't. I think of you a lot. Ten years have passed, and I still think of you a lot. I love you.

You wouldn't have died. It's my fault. I should have run away with you. I should have stayed with you for a lifetime.

Jennie, you come. You are mine. You stand in the doorway. You look young, just like what you were like ten years ago when you were killed. I see you, Jennie. You know my door always opens for you.

I thought I had lost you.

I'll make it up for you. I'll stay with you forever. I'll love you.

I let you in. You touched my cheeks. Yes, I know, I look elder. I'm almost 30, and you are forever 22.

Jennie has been at my apartment for ten days. I haven't gone outside for ten days. There's basically nothing to eat at my apartment now. But still, I won't go out. I'll stay with her. I'll make it up for her.

I can do anything for her. I listen to everything she says. We cuddled on the couch, danced on the balcony, and we talked a lot. I tell her everything that happened during the 10 years. Her husband was executed. My father passed away. And a lot of other things.

I've always been with her for the ten days. I don't want to lose her. She wrote her name on my back. Jennie. I'm yours.

I'm getting smaller. Jennie is getting larger and larger. She could devour me. She is craving my love. She is greedy. And I'll do whatever she wants to make it up for her.

This evening, she asked me to go to Blue Bar, where we first met. "I want to love you forever. Love you in the sunlight. Love you openly," Jennie says.

It's been ten years, but I know Blue Bar is still there. I've driven past it a million times, but I don't have the nerve to go into it. I'm scared. I'm scared of my love here. I'm afraid of confronting the past, confronting myself, and confronting my love.

I start to drive. Jennie is sitting in the passenger seat. She puts her hands on my thigh. Roaming on the highway for the first time in my life, I feel free. I feel that I'm me. I'm a gust of wind, a wanderess, a one-night stand. I don't belong to no places. Facing the neon lights in the distance and the lighthouse by the sea, Jennie, I can belong to this night, I can belong to that night, I can belong to you.

I stop my car. I see Jennie checking her hair in the rearview mirror. We get out of the car. We headed to the door, shoulder to shoulder.

I don't think anyone can see Jennie besides me. So maybe I'm acting strangely in other people's eyes. But who cares. I have Jennie. My Jennie. I'll stay with her forever.

The bar doesn't change much. The light is still dim. The music is loud. People here are heartbroken.

I start to hold her hand, and our fingers cross.

At that moment, Jennie disappears.