Memories of Stephanie

The first memory Jessica had of Stephanie is a girl with dried pink paint underneath her nails, chipped and bitten, and a crusty smile of a dewy morning. A bucket hung from the bend of her left elbow, and a background of a mural behind her. Her eyes reminded Jessica of sifting sand.

The second memory Jessica had of Stephanie is a painful slap on her cheek, one earned from too much pestering and too much teasing, and a joke that went too far, though that joke is a fading thought now. Stephanie's eyes were teary, and Jessica watched the girl stalk away.

The third memory is Stephanie crying on a step in between alleys, and Jessica looked down on Stephanie, picked her up by the elbow and demanded to know why she had been crying. Stephanie went on to sob something about her Dad, though not fully in a language Jessica could recognise, she caught on and believed it was because of an argument the girl had with her father. The sun was descending and soon the world would be dark, so Jessica invited Stephanie over for dinner.

The fourth is Stephanie playing a flute, a tall shadow falling across the backyard as Stephanie played with Jessica peeking from a freshly drilled hole. The notes were sometimes too flat or too sharp or just plain off, but Jessica came to like, and eventually love the music Stephanie blew into the flute.

Stephanie quickly escalated to be the prettiest girl of the neighborhood, though the attention was not something she was used to. And Jessica, Jessica had been entirely human and very sixteen-year-old, and she hated lurking in the shadows when Stephanie had the bright spotlight that hurt her eyes. It went on like that until Stephanie went blind from looking into the lights. And it hurt Stephanie that Jessica hated her for being her.

Stephanie revealed her name to be MiYoung. Hwang MiYoung. She hated that name because it made her feel a thousand years older, and a million years sadder. Now you can hate Stephanie, but not MiYoung, she said, not even the slightest bit reluctant, not even unwavering, only smiles.

Jessica made the turn and averted her eyes. If she'd explode into a million dust particles and float away with the wind, she would, anything, just anything, to say how sorry she was for being stupid. For being Jessica.

The fifth memory of Stephanie--MiYoung--is her back hunched over mock exam papers, twisting a pen so hard the cap made a protesting sound that's meant to tell Stephanie that it had reached its breaking point. The arch of the vertebras of Stephanie's spine made protruding ridges on her striped top, Jessica fit the heel of one foot into the ankle of the other, lying back down and watching everything, pretending that this was all Jessica had to see.

The sixth is Stephanie in a graduation gown, a creasing smile that looked like it hurt Stephanie's face given to anyone who had congratulated her. Jessica pretended to forget that she had already congratulated Stephanie and did it again, when she only wanted to see the smile.

Parting ways was never easy. They took separate paths to forked roads and the distance made Jessica ache sorely, realising that being near Stephanie during the moments in between seconds and pressing the bone of her shoulder into Stephanie's and the late-night coffee in a dingy diner was all Jessica ever took from her high-school days.

The seventh and eighth consequently is Jessica driving to Stephanie's place, knocking on the door so hard it would have fallen apart if Stephanie had not came to the door in time, and Jessica crying, falling into Stephanie, feeling utterly alone and needing more than the night to comfort her. She didn't remember the cause of her tears, just that she needed Stephanie. And how her arms were soft yet hard around her shoulders.

Jessica stayed over and traced the veins on Stephanie's arm, and then intensely and passionately hated the sunlight the next day because that'd mean she had to leave.

The ninth memory of Stephanie is a conversation they had over a Christmas fire, cross-legged and skin chilled from outside winter. Stephanie told her that she wanted to make it big, to make a name for herself, to show her Daddy that it could be done. It was a dream and Stephanie had always been so full of dreams. And her dreams were so big that they frightened Jessica. Jessica had been quietly insulted that Stephanie had not considered staying, staying for Jessica, at all, and how easily she'd gamble family and Jessica on the plate just for a figment of her thoughts and desires, just for a dream that rarely, if never happened to a small-town kid. Here, she was the prettiest girl, out there, who knew?

"Why don't you stay here, get married, have a family, grow old?" Jessica suggested without looking at her and jabbed the burning coals with the poker. Why don't you be ordinary and just be the prettiest girl in this neighborhood and not a great perhaps out there? Why don't you stay with me?

"I want an adventure, Jessi, I want all that."

But Jessica was quietly seething because Jessica would have to give Stephanie up at the expense of a dream. Jessica was not willing to do anything of that kind. "You don't know what you want."

Stephanie had looked over her shoulder to Jessica, half her face glowing ember, and made a sour line. It was disappointment, it was conspicuous, and it hurt Jessica. It was that arch Stephanie's eyebrows made, like and i thought you would understand me.

They said nothing, and neither was in the mood to say anything more than goodbye, goodnight, merry christmas, and then the door closed and that was Jessica's ninth memory of Stephanie MiYoung Hwang, before she left for Seoul and became Tiffany Hwang.

Jessica's tenth memory of Stephanie is a thought. Just a floating thought that latched onto her brain and rooted itself there. It was for Stephanie to be happy, for her to be finally happy with what she had gotten, with her life, with her fantasies. Tiffany Hwang became one of the faces in Korea, Jessica looked at a poster and smiles.

Stephanie called later, when Jessica was doing her university degree and passing by a cafe on a street back home. Stephanie called and said, "Hi, Jessi. I made it big."

And Jessica laughed quietly and nearly dropped her notes. "I know, Steph. I saw. You're all over Korea."

And they didn't speak. Merely because there were too many things to say that they didn't know where to start. Should i start with how much i miss you, how are you, which part of the world are you at now, how is this actor, how is life, how are you oh my god i miserably miserably miss you so much no there is no such thing but it's all there is.

The times made Jessica choke up and clenched for the first time in years since Stephanie left in a morning with just a letter saying that she'll keep in touch and she'll miss Jessica.

Jessica understood what that meant. It meant nothing would be the same. Jessica hated change, because she liked things the way they were, and change meant losing people in the process, in any kind of way. But she hated this change the most, losing Stephanie, losing MiYoung.

Now Tiffany exists behind a glass wall for Jessica.

"Can we meet?"

Would they have much to say?

"Sure, sure we can, Tiffany."

The eleventh is a grandfather clock's chime, ghastly and haunting. Stephanie's eyes were red and teary and hot, her ears bothered and her lips engorged. She grabbed Jessica's shoulders, equally intoxicated, smashed her lips onto Jessica's with needy, desperate eyes and whimpering at every touch; do you know how much i missed you? how much i thought of you, how much i--i--

Stephanie broke down crying and Jessica took it, took everything, took all of Stephanie, just to wake up and remember that it wasn't Stephanie in her arms, it was Tiffany.

Jessica slipped out of bed and left, and never looked back.

Tiffany's attempts to reach out to Jessica went unreciprocated, every line dead, every address empty, every turn of a corner led to a different place. Where would she find Jessica in a sea of faces desperate to touch her fingertips or a breadth of her hair?

But she found Jessica. Like some string of fate wound their--no, actually, manacled--their ankles together, like slaves.

She found Jessica on an August morning, in Japan, of all places.

Jessica looked older, seemed older, even walked like she was older. She walked different, feet splayed outwards, but it was no less attractive.

In a bookstore with probably about half the books narrating a story about love with a happy ending, Tiffany grabbed Jessica's wrist and marveled at how stick-thin it was, how Jessica looked malnourished, skinny, just skinny. Skinnier than Tiffany, who was a nationwide idol with a decent body among the idols. Tiffany felt the bone of Jessica's wrist and Jessica looked shocked.

Then Jessica gave her a mechanical stare that strangers would give and Tiffany felt it all shatter; this illusion that someone in this world knew the real her, understood her.

"Tiffany?" But there was no recognition in those eyes.

"Jess, it's me."

"Tiffany?" It didn't make sense for Jessica; the name didn't fit, it just wasn't fitting. The girl before her had been Stephanie/MiYoung for her entire life, and then she was suddenly Tiffany and nothing made sense anymore.

"Jessica. I called."

"I changed my phone number. I moved."

"Why didn't you tell me."

"I did. I must have. I told you sometime before but you weren't listening."

And like that, Jessica walked away, hurt because how could Tiffany just leave and find her dream and when it no longer worked out like that, come back and expect Jessica to be the way she was before, the way she was before Stephanie left her for Tiffany?

Everyone's telling Stephanie to go pursue her dreams, chase after her dreams before it slips her by completely, and Jessica? What would happen to Jessica? Did it make her a bad, horrible person just for wanting Stephanie and not, never Tiffany? Did it make her the bad guy if she stopped Stephanie from becoming Tiffany?

It wasn't fair, but nothing in this world was fair. And that made Jessica damn bloody bitter.

The twelfth memory are articles of Tiffany's impending marriage, all over the newspapers and on the internet and all these forums. Interviews on the television showed a happy Tiffany saying something about how special he made her feel, how happy she was, how perfect everything was, like magic, like fairytales.

But Jessica knew who Tiffany was before, and nothing of that sort made Stephanie happy. She used to make Stephanie happy too. Something is burning.

Jessica's thirteenth memory of Tiffany is Tiffany on her doorstep, smiling like nothing's wrong, and Jessica was nearly convinced that Tiffany was happy. Then the door closed and Tiffany kissed Jessica till they were out of breath.

"Why..."

"Just for old time's sake."

And they awkwardly share a bottle of red wine Tiffany had brought on the couch. What the hell were they doing, both of them wondered.

"Married huh. Only Tiffany could make it big and have a family."

"Stop calling me Tiffany."

"But you're Tiffany. Prettiest girl in the world."

"No, stop it."

"Hey, Tiffany--"

"Stephanie."

"Why'd you think we're here again."

"I don't know."

"Tiffany--"

"STEPHANIE!"

"Do you regret it?"

This time, Tiffany only looked warily to Jessica, heavy-lidded. "Regret what."

"Regret everything? Regret leaving, regret getting married, regret your career, regret Tiffany?"

Honesty must be so beautiful, because nothing was more divine that Tiffany's running mascara, too-bright-too-red lipstick on swelled lips, and wet, wet lashes that flutter like moth's wings.

Tiffany's answer was a deep kiss on Jessica's lips.

Jessica tasted the answer. It tasted bittersweet.

Jessica couldn't have Tiffany because she had Stephanie. And Stephanie and Tiffany were two different people.

Tiffany's lips moved against her own. "Why don't you want me? I've tried everything..."

Jessica's answer was simple, but it broke two hearts at the same time when it was said out loud: "Because you're not Stephanie. And I only want Stephanie. So stop coming back to Stephanie. Because you're not and you'll never be Stephanie anymore."

The thirteenth memory is Tiffany's invitation card on her kitchen counter. Jessica burned it on the stove and watched the scented card go brown then black after cooking ramyun. The horrible scent nearly made her gag.

She was past the point of crying, past the point of heartbreak, and there was just sadness and the lingering thought of what if.

Jessica's fourteenth memory is Tiffany in a bridal gown, and she smiled because Stephanie would have looked beautiful in the same gown too. She threw the confetti, threw the flowers, threw whatever she needed to. Tiffany's eyes met hers once or twice throughout the ceremony, but that creased smile whenever someone congratulated her was gone, now just a faint nod and a distant smile.

Shame. The Stephanie she knew would have given that smile to anyone who congratulated her.

That was Jessica's last memory of Tiffany, and then years sped by and she found herself growing older and older, things becoming more difficult to remember and recognise.

On an early morning in August, she closes her eyes and thinks of it again, and shakily attempts a flowchart at sorting out everything.

At the end, she's left with two people. Tiffany Hwang and Stephanie MiYoung Hwang.

Parting is never easy. She could say she loved Stephanie, but she never, not once, loved Tiffany.

The first memory Jessica had of Stephanie is a girl with dried pink paint underneath her nails, chipped and bitten, and a crusty smile of a dewy morning. A bucket hung from the bend of her left elbow, and a background of a mural behind her. Her eyes reminded Jessica of sifting sand.

That girl is Stephanie MiYoung Hwang.

—ジュリエット