vii. nineteen sixty-five

[ yiruma - time forgets ]

The Independent Republic of Greenwich Village, New York. Located on the lower part of Manhattan, between Houston Street and 14th West. The home of innovators, creators, artists, musicians, and poets alike. Diversity was the key to the district's successful recognition, the epitome of liberty and the dawn of limits . This is where a lost soul could seek its home, a place for revolution,  a place for reckoning, a neighborhood that exercises freedom & passion. You can see artistry in all corners of the place, whether in a bar, a resto,  dark alley, or on the side street. This is an artists' haven, the bohemian capital, the cradle of the 60s counterculture movements. The place that witnessed New York's renaissance.

timeframe ;  1965. September

JENNIE.

"Baby, you okay?" The velvety angel-like voice was all too familiar to my ears, and on cue, my system started to regenerate, my eyes opened with curiosity of the owner's voice. My orbs refocused and slowly, I realized that I was standing in a wide bright space where the love of my life that I missed so much appeared before me, my heart leaped in joy because it was all too good to be true. 

  Chaeyoung . . ." I muttered right then and there as I cupped her face, the overwhelming sensation lingered through me as I felt my heart ached and smiled at the same time. She was in this long white dress, and she was glowing. Like a dream. Or is this a dream?

Everything else was white and blurry but her face was clear to me. Actually, she's been the only clear thing in my life. Her milky skin that I've touched for the first time in the longest time sent shivers down my spine as each of my fingers fondled upon her complexion. "You don't know how much I've been waiting to see you again." I uttered as my voice have gone sobby. She flashed a gentle smile that melted my soul. "What were you doing when I was gone?" she asked with great echo. Finally, a tear fell as I felt it stream down my face. "Waiting for you to come home." I answered.

"I've been home all along." She whispered gently as she pressed her hand into my chest, "Here. I live in every beat of your heart, Jennie." she said knowingly. Her touch pressed my heart even more, adding more pain as I reminisce all those last moments with her alive. "It's not the same when you were still breathing with me. I want you back alive." I said with plead.

She embraced me as a response, her warmth went down through my soul I felt salvation and haven. I closed my eyes, "I love you." I uttered. At last, after for so long, I am home. She pulled herself closer as she reached my ears and whispered the gentlest words, "I love you, Jennie...Jennie...Jennie...Jen...."

I was flustered her voice suddenly became a fading echo, like it was going away. Seconds later, I began to feel the coldness as Chaeyoung's body faded away but the fleeting voice was still there . . . uttering my name over and over again . "Jen . . .Jen. . .Jen. . ." I started to feel dizzy as I tried opening my blurry eyes. Then a queer transition happened, like I was warped back into a place that sensed reality. I felt heavy all of a sudden. My body was lying onto something soft, like a bed. Wait, it is a bed.

My head ached so bad as I slowly gained my vision back, "Jen . . . Jen, wake up." the voice was strong again, this time it wasn't Chaeyoung's voice, it was feminine but distinct, it was a tone lower than before. "Hey, you're awake. Finally." a girl that had a long slicked ebony hair topped with a black beret,  with lips that formed like a heart greeted me with a smile as I wake. I had to strength to react in shock because the pain in my head flashed hot and hard. "Ugh!" I groaned in pain as the hammering started to hurt more. "Yeah, I know, it hurts." she said with comfortability, I was taken aback. Does she know me perhaps?  I thought in curiosity. "Wait, where am I?" I finally had the strength to lift myself up from what it seems like an old designed mattress that stretched way too long for only one person to sleep in. It looked very antique, heavy but bold with color of hot pink. It was strange. Not to mention that the room was kind of poppy and ranging with bright colors. The wallpaper was generally made out of a bold red palette of paisleys, there was pop art portraits displayed on each wall, the chandelier from above was in the shade of deep blue, the lamps were unusually big and dim, white curtains cascaded through a small edged balcony, the floor was wooden with more than three textured rugs occupying it. The chairs and stools were somewhat S-shaped, with a lot of curves dominating the figures and colors that ranged from pink to red. The design, color and scheme was strange for my liking, it didn't feel modern at all. I didn't know New York apartments still design old-school interiors like these. Quite intriguing. 

"Pfft. So you have amnesia now?" My attention snapped back when she huffed a short laugh like I was bluffing, but it made me more confused. "No. I just don't know this place nor do I know you." I said with sureness. Her face flipped into questioning. "What?!" Same girl, same. I thought. 

"I'm really sorry, I'm so lost right now. I don't know why I got here. The last thing I remember was that I was on a street near Grand Central and a car ran over me." I stammered throughout my explanation but managed to finish. "Are you psyching with me right now?! Because Jen I'm not in the mood." She shot a malicious look. "Psyching? What do you mean?" Her choice of words bothered me. "Maybe you were just too drunk last night or maybe your dream was too real." Her excuse convinced herself to ignore what I was saying. "No. I was not drunk. I really don't ing know you!" I said with a pinch of desperation.

 She took a moment and looked me in the eyes, I felt a little too conscious, "That's weird." She spoke. "What's weird?" I retorted a question. "Your eyes." She quickly replied as she flexed her body closer to mine, I quickly made space and distanced myself safely. I don't like her boldness. "Your eyes aren't the same. Like they speak differently." I found myself looking at her back with fixation, she had a dark pool of black orbs that tells me that I should know her, like I know her, I just forgot. "How would that help me remember anything?" I commented.

"Don't you remember?!" She asked again, I shook my head in honesty. "Last night? We went to The Bitter End  to hang? You had too much Bourbon Whiskey so you fell asleep on the table and you didn't wake up after that? I needed to rush you to your doctor but he said that you were just weirdly unconscious so I sent you home." her words made me the most confused person in the world, and I thought gays were having the most difficult time. Wait. "The Bitter End? Isn't that located on downtown Manhattan?" I asked with furrowed eyebrows. "Yeah, that's right. Downtown Manhattan. Greenwich Village, where we are right now." she nodded in confirmation. I bulged my eyes out. WHY IN THE HEAVEN'S DID I END UP HERE. "But why am I here?!" I tried to not look like a panicking gay but it was no use. "You live here." She answered. "No. I live uptown." I strongly disagreed. "You think your bestfriend would lie to you?" Her words triggered my headache again, I swiveled my head to the side hoping the pain would subside.  My guts were telling me that I should believe her. "Who are you?" I managed to ask, this time the atmosphere was more cunning and serious. "I told you, I'm your bestfriend. Kim Jisoo." She revealed. Then a spark of memory reemerged, my dream suddenly became evocative in my mind. I vividly remember that she was that girl in the coffee shop, I still smell the brewing caffeine, the live music, the surrogate people that smoked and drank with us.  Don't tell me that my dream just came true because I would ing faint! My insides started to slur in panic, "Can I ask you questions?" I asked in favor. She nodded. "Sure, if that'll ease your mind." 

I proceeded. "What were we doing there?" 

Jisu or whatever her name is, stood up from bed and crossed her arms as she explained.  "We went to the Café to see Bob Dylan, he performs there every saturday night and you love his odd taste of music so I compromised and accompanied you." 

"Bob Dylan? I've met him on a music gala once. He's like 70 now, with breaking bones and a dehydrated throat. Why would he perform in an old coffee house?!" I expressed an obscure face, I suddenly felt foreign to this place, this moment, this time. Like I shouldn't be here.

"Uhm-because he's not ing 70. He's actually 24 and you said he could pass as your husband. I also clearly remember you blabbering about walking up to him and ask him to marry you but that was just drunk talk" She stopped and looked at me in worry. ". . . Are you sure you're okay?!" She added, she doesn't know what to make out of the situation and neither am I.

"No. I'm sure he's old. Are you sure that it was Bob Dylan?" I shook my head firmly remembering the time when Chaeyoung and I snapped a quick photo with old Dylan on the red carpet.

"Uhm- no it's the sixties everyone could be a ing clone." Her sarcasm bursted out, an obvious manner that I've noticed amidst the tight skirt and beret that made her look formal and reserved. But there was one word that baffled me. "What did you say?" I begged for repetition as my eyes fixated on her, "I said yes I'm sure it was Bob Dylan, he's the only man in town who could sing and pull off that tousled up hairstyle at the same time." Her added sarcasm just confirmed the dignified and woman-like fashion that she wears is just a cascading material she uses to hide her true personality and