#maturetheme

The next day, he drank himself to sleep, and I wondered where my mother could have gone off. My mother never liked the smell of alcohol, so I often witnessed my father getting scolded by my mother. Yet, she's not here.

A week later, my father's hobby of drinking got worse, and it stayed like that until he started to shout at me. My father had never raised his voice at me until that time. A month later, I got used to his shouting and saw my mother, whose presence I miss most. She was standing beside him, speaking in a hushed tone that I could barely hear from the stairs. I wished I could hear what they had been talking about, but then I stopped wishing when I saw how my father had shoved her away from him. 

I held a gap between my lips. Despite the distance, I could clearly see the guilt forming on his face, which I guessed was because of what he had done to my mother. My mother gasped, and all of a sudden, she wept on the floor as she moved her lips, spitting hatred words at my father. Then the guilt on his face starts to twitch, changing to hatred, just like my mother had.

I did nothing of the sort aside from witnessing the hatred they'd exchanged with each other, and it went on like that until I reached the age of eleven. 

At the age of eleven, she finally left me. She was at our porch door, ready to leave without hesitation. I could hear my father's voice behind me, calling her names, and I think she was not listening, because the moment I opened my mouth as I called for her, she turned to me. I knew my mother was never going to go on one of her so-called business trips. Not when I've seen how she almost took all of her belongings from the house, as if she was erasing the fact that she existed here. The fact that she's my mother.

I don't want that. I never want that. I want my mother to stay, and not for my father, but for her daughter. It was a selfish request, but I didn't know that at the time. I was just a young kid back then, begging for my family to be okay just like before.

The memory of my mother lying before she walked out of my life was still vivid in my mind. I remember her fancy vanilla scent on me. I remember asking about the places when her boss asked her to go to some places, even though I had no knowledge of them. I wasn't even sure if those places existed, but I tried my hardest to remember them so I could figure out how and where she was going. I remember how she reached out to tuck my hair behind my ear for the last time and whispered that she would be back for me. Then she kissed my cheek, longingly. I remember how watching her left me completely helpless. I remember how I cried for her as I let myself sprint freely to the car, never accepting that she was going to leave me forever. But she never stopped the car. 

I remember how I would wait for her every day at the window. I remember the disappointment I would get when I saw a black automobile only to find out that it was not her. I remember the pang of jealousy in me whenever I saw kids interacting with their mothers with smiles on their faces. I remember visiting my mom's old room, trying to feel her presence with me. I remember how I wept when I came to learn that my father had decided to move to Seoul, South Korea. And mostly, I remembered that I would cry only in the shower, where no one could see me or hear me, where I couldn't tell what my tears were and what the water was.

To be frank, I don't know why I did that. I just know that after a few months, I was able to take a shower without crying, and I stopped getting disappointed as I waited for her. 

Despite the promises she showered on me that day, she never showed up on our porch again, and since then, I've come to wonder if my mom truly loved me. Why did she even bore me with her stomach if she would only just leave me alone with my father? 

At that time, I could not help but wish I should have been born a bird. 

By the time I was sixteen, I was six feet one, with dark, shiny raven hair, long legs, light porcelain skin, and a chest that pulled at the buttons of my dresses. Boys at my school would whistle at me on my way, watching me walk down the hallway, and I would get the nasty glares of the girls that would befriend me in front of my face, but stab me savagely in the back. 

One day, a boy came up to me when I was left alone in my classroom. He grinned at me, though I didn't know why. He wasn't even handsome with his grin, but I think he thought he looked handsome because he'd been smiling for how many minutes, so I didn't dare break the confidence. He told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend, and to be honest, I never knew what to say back to him. 

Then he kissed me. I didn't want him to kiss me. I pushed him away, but he held onto my arm.

"Oh, come on," He said. "Be my girlfriend. I know you like me,"

The classroom was empty. His arms were strong and he gripped me tightly. At that moment, I knew he was going to get what he wanted from me, whether I let him or not. 

"You have this power over me."

Then he kissed me, and I felt like I was kissing a piece of shit coming from a cow's asshole. It was disgusting, but I couldn't move my body. It was as if it was paralyzed on its own. I wanted to tell him no. I wanted to scream at him that I didn't want his lips on mine. I didn't want him or this. And before I could realize it, his lips disappeared from mine, and I saw him almost fall off the ground.

I realized I had slapped him. 

I could feel my hand stinging from the pain. I glanced at him, and he threw me a pair of furious eyes, boring deeply into me. His cheeks were red, and when he caressed them, he hissed at me.

"You sick bitch! You should be grateful I kissed your slutty lips, you fucking weirdo!" He points at me, as if he really meant that I should be grateful. 

I flinched and didn't say anything. I could feel my tears building up, but I wouldn't show them to him. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of my tears. Instead, I just stayed there quiet as I bit the insides of my cheeks. 

"Oh god! Fuck, my face!" I heard him say. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. You will fucking pay for this, you fucking weirdo!" 

Then he left. When he did, I felt my legs couldn't carry me anymore, and I collapsed right onto the ground. I don't know why, but there was not an ounce of tears streaming down my cheeks. Instead, I just sat there in relief that I was able to break free from his grasp.

On the night of that day, I washed my lips a thousand times until I finally felt clean, but no matter how much I tried to rinse them with water, I knew the feeling in his lips wouldn't come off. And I felt disgusted. 

When the next day came, it was no surprise to be the center of attention after your classmates found out about your family history and how you used the boy they adored: motherless, miserable, slut, bitch, bitch, bitch, poor bitch, and how dare you use our oppa!

Wrecked-Park. That's what I would hear whenever I walked through the hallway. They sometimes call me that, and it makes me want to scream at them, tell them to shut their mouths, because I don't know why. They were speaking the truth. I was a motherless girl, and I know I don't have a reason to be angry about it, but I hated it when they called me names. So, despite the hard, annoying, and sharp words, I came to learn that wasting my energy on something irrelevant was useless, so I made it through high school mostly avoiding and rejecting anyone until I reached college.

By the time I was nineteen, I was familiar with the quote, "No man is an island." I've known that quote ever since I was in kindergarten, and throughout high school, I've proved the quote wrong by being partnered with some random kid in my class and just volunteered to do it alone.

Then, they would show me fake concern with questions like, "Are you sure?" I would nod, shrugging, as I knew really well that they were kind of feeling lucky to have me as their partner. I don't really know what the reason was back then, but throughout the years, I've come to guess that maybe I just didn't want them to see how lonely and miserable I was.

+++

When I arrived at my first class of the day, Mr. Lee, our homeroom teacher, announced that we would be pairing ourselves. He said that to make things fair, Mr. Lee decided he would be the one to decide with whom to partner.

Of course, I didn't have any objection to that, so I was partnered, and that's where I crossed paths with Jennie Kim. 

"You don't have to do this with me, Kim." That was the first thing I said.

I can see how her eyebrows furrowed as if she was foreign to it.

"Why not?"

"You don't have to. I can handle geometry, it's not a big deal." I said, though I'm not so sure of my words, but I work harder than the devil.

I can see how she scrunched her nose softly, "Why would I let you eat our project alone, Park? Wouldn't that be unfair?"

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "If you're worrying about the cooperation grade I'll give, I'll give you ten."

"And why would you do that?"

"Just because."

"I'll ask again, why would you do that?"

I look down, "To leave me alone."

"You're shooing your partner, give them ten points despite no effort?"

"Just leave me alone, Kim."

"That's nonsense, Park."

I finally sigh, glancing up to meet her eyes and motioning her to sit down. Jennie Kim was one of the famous students I've seen around the school, and I know that just by associating with her, it'll feel like I'm letting Charon paddle my way to Hades' realm. And I don't want the peace I'm building around myself to be wrecked just because I had some project with some cool girl.

"Look, I know you're trying to pretend that it doesn't make you happy at all, but I do," I took my books to my bag and stood up to walk out. "So be a dear and leave me alone to do our project alone."

"Do you not have trust in my knowledge?" She asks, and I frown at her.

"I do." It was true, I always tend to notice Jennie Kim's name in the top list.

"Then why wouldn't you let me help you?"

"Our conversation keeps going in circles, Kim."

"Then let me help you."

"I told you no."

"Then at least let me write our names and check if the answers are right."

"I have hands and a brain for a reason."

"Then at least let me provide the mater-"

And our conversation goes in circles until I finally sigh in surrender and agree. Between the stubbornness of Jennie Kim and Park Chaeyoung, I have admitted defeat to that.

I always found my legs giving up and tired as I walked towards Kim's house, but I endured it. Jennie Kim didn't need to know that, and so we continued our project that lasted a month. And throughout the project, I didn't expect to find the friendship I've been longing to have for years.

It turns out that Jennie Kim is not that hard to get along with. Turns out, Jennie Kim, who always had a cold expression on her face, can smile brighter than the sun does every morning. Turns out, Jennie Kim, who is rumored to be a party goer, loves to stay at home in her comfy pajamas. It turns out that Jennie Kim, who is portrayed as an evil, slutty, and cunning bitch, is actually a nice, brave, and strong ordinary girl like us, who makes mistakes and has flaws. It turns out that Jennie Kim, who is always portrayed as being dark as hell, is actually filled with unicorns. Turns out the Jennie Kim students idolize in our school is human too. Turns out Jennie Kim is actually a fan of Disney princesses. It turns out that Jennie Kim, who is rumored to be unaffected by any relationship she is in, is in fact heartbroken. Turns out Jennie Kim, despite the heartbreak, keeps trying to find love.

To be honest, I don't know why she does that. Why does she keep trying to find love despite the heartbreak that will embrace her in the end?

"I have something to confess. Someone actually asked me out two weeks ago." 

I could hear the voice and I knew that voice very well. I could hear her taking the seat in front of me, and when I glanced up, Jennie Kim was avoiding my eyes. Instead, she looked at her food with a sheepish smile on her lips. I knew this movie very well, I knew Jennie Kim very well, despite our friendship having just recently reached its second year.

"Who?"

"Well... Lisa," she starts, blushing more. "She asked me out."

Jennie Kim stopped killing her food before she placed her spoon down with a blush on her cheeks. I raised an eyebrow. Jennie hated fighting around the bush, and that's what she's actually doing right now. At this moment, I would have pointed out the new behavior she's showing, but I know my best friend is suffering at the moment, so in mercy, I didn't.

"Lisa, who?"

"Oh, you know, Lisa, Lisa, like Lisa... yeah." 

"Jennie, I don't know who this Lis-"

"Oh come on, are you really going to make me say her full name? Gosh, Rosie. You started your first year here and you didn't know who Lisa Manoban is?"

I faked a cough to hide the grin on my lips. Jennie was a fun girl to tease. 

"Chill," I say. "You didn't have to attack me just because Lisa Manoban asked you out or something." 

She blushed, and the next thing I saw, she was zooming out. I let it slide. This was an amusing sight, and it seemed like getting asked out by Lisa Manoban was not the only thing that happened between them. I know it. I can tell.

"She's different, Rosie. I mean, really, really, really different from the guys and girls I've been with."

I hummed, nodding as I urged her to continue. I've noticed countless ways in which Jennie Kim would describe her past lovers, but with this Lisa Manoban, I know I'm safe to say that she's different. Jennie Kim's expression says so.

"She looked at me, Rosie. And the way she did it made me feel as if no one had ever really looked at me before. Not even Jongin." She paused, taking a deep breath, and smiled as she stared at the food. "She's uhm... she treats me so nice. She listens well. She makes me laugh. She never forced me into anything. She would laugh at my jokes like a little kid... and it just felt so foreign and right with her, you know?" She laughed, the kind of giddy laugh that kids have when they're truly happy.

"That's great, Jen."

"It is..." She said, softly, and reached to catch her arm. "She's perfect, hubby. I know she has flaws around her, but that's what makes her perfect."