“Two years of Skype, and now I finally get to see her.  Like, really see her.  I’m quite nervous, but also excited.  I really love her, you know?  Who knew you could feel so connected with someone miles away from you?  I know I didn’t.”

It could have been worse.  At least her sister made sure she got an aisle seat.  A blabbering seatmate isn’t the end of the world.  The guy, who introduced himself as Erik as soon as he sat down, is bound to shut up at some point during the 15-hour economy class flight, she thinks.  As much as she is genuinely happy for the practical stranger, she can’t bring herself to say it.  It will only prolong the ‘conversation’ that he has successfully kept going for 10 minutes on his own.  There’s still a dark cloud that hangs over her, and she doesn’t want to risk raining on someone’s parade.

So she just smiles.  Disinterestedly.  Maybe he’ll get a hint.

“What about you?

Or not.

“Me?”

“Yeah.  Have you ever been in love?”

The question catches her off guard.  It is a bit much for small talk, but at least it’s answerable with a nod.

Because yes, she has.  Still is.  Will always be.

“Is that person the reason for this trip?”

Still a bit much for small talk, but still answerable with a nod.

Because yes, she is.

“Will that person be waiting for you at the airport when we land?”

She promised.  But plans change even when you don’t want them to.

“No. She’ll be waiting for me somewhere else.”

“Oh, so it’s a woman?”

She’s done tolerating ‘hate’ from her family— and more so from strangers.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all!  Love is love, you know.  I’m just, I don’t know, impressed, I guess?  I know it’s harder when it’s not between a man and a woman because society still , but you didn’t let other people break you.”

But she did.

“You made it through.”

But they didn’t.

“And I’m happy for you…um…”

“Wendy.”

“I’m happy for you, Wendy.”

“It’s not gonna fit,” Wendy grunts in front of the the full-body mirror in her room as she struggles with the zipper of the ball gown her mom bought her to wear for her upcoming 18^th birthday party.

Jennie, a month older than Wendy— whose idea of an 18^th birthday party was take-out spaghetti and fried chicken, her mama’s home-made red velvet cake, and then binge-watching K-Dramas with her best friend after in their PJs— shakes her head and gets up, leaving the comfort of her best friend’s queen-size bed.  “I don’t get it,” Jennie huffs as she walks closer to assist the damsel in distress.  “They’re throwing a party you don’t even want, practically announcing to everyone that their daughter is ready for romance, but apparently not ready to pick her own birthday outfit.”

“I had to compromise,” Wendy raises her hands in surrender and lets her best friend take the reins of the annoying little piece of metal on the back that just won’t budge.  It’s not that the dress is ugly.  Quite the opposite, actually.  Despite their differences— which are a lot, she has realized over the years— her mother has decent taste when it comes to clothing.  In fact, a little too decent— also a little too expensive, like most of the things in her room, in their house, in their garage, which she can’t help but wonder how her mother, Kingdom Come’s treasurer, and her father, one of Kingdom Come’s senior pastors, were able to afford with their ‘humble’ salaries.  “It’s this or she won’t...”

“Let me attend?”

Jennie, in more ways than one, is Wendy’s antithesis.  Jennie grew up in a home where she’s allowed to question everything (she brings the same energy to church, way too often than Siwon’s— the youth ministry leader and Wendy’s cousin— liking), make her own decisions, and learn from her own mistakes.  In turn, she has grown up to be ‘too’ free, ‘too’ fearless, and ‘too’ outspoken— at least by Wendy’s parents’ standards of what a young Christian woman should be.

Behind Jennie’s upbringing is Ms. Chae-rin, whom Wendy also calls ‘mama’; a single mother who runs a small bakery business seven days a week to ensure that her incoming college freshman daughter actually goes to college.  She’s a favorite topic during women’s ministry (led by Wendy’s mother herself) meetings whenever she’s not around; how she has no time for God, how she raised her ‘rough-around-the-edges’ daughter, how her strong personality probably scared Jennie’s father away.

Needless to say, Wendy’s mother and father aren’t exactly fond of her best friend.  They would rather that their daughter be close with youths of a more similar background, like Mina; another pastor’s daughter, member of the dance ministry, always prim, always proper, very ‘ladylike’, and very, very quiet.

So Wendy made a deal with the holy man and woman of God; her parents get to make all the choices and she gets to keep her “not up to par” friend around.

And besides, this is the only way she can keep Jennie.

As a friend.

As a pastor’s daughter, it would be a scandal to want something more from… someone else’s daughter.  And the last thing she wants is Jennie taking heat from this possibly one-sided… sin.  She doesn’t know how her feelings went from something so innocent to looking at her best friend and being tempted to do things that may or may not require her to repent.  It might as well be just hormones.  But at 17, Wendy’s afraid she’s just too certain; being with anyone else is merely playing pretend.  And she can live with that.  But whoever the man her parents approve of has to accept the fact that not one else—

“…Fits.  It fits,” Jennie takes a little step back and smiles after successfully zipping up the ball gown’s bodice.  “You just couldn’t reach it properly.”  Wendy turns her back towards the mirror to check and then lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God.  For a second, I thought turning down those extra slices of cake from mama was for nothing.”

“You’re not fat, Wannie,” Jennie argues, peeking over Wendy’s bare left shoulder to see her friend’s reflection.  “It’s cool if you are, but you’re really not.”

“Aunt Jimin says I’m shaped like a boy.”

“What does that even mean?” 

“The lack of curves, probably.”

Jennie, still peeking over her best friend’s shoulder, has to counter that, because only a fool would say that about the body reflected in the mirror.  So, she inches closer and whispers, “How do you always manage to get an A+ in Math and not know that these,” then places her hands on either side of Wendy’s silk-clad waist, “are curves?”

“You’re right,” Wendy manages.  She focuses on Jennie’s face in the mirror; if she caught how her breath hitched mere seconds ago, her usual gummy smile sure doesn’t show it.

“I know.  Now, turn around.  Let me have a proper look.”

“Of my waist?”

“No, silly,” Jennie laughs.  With hands still on Wendy’s waist, she maneuver’s her best friend to face her, “the dress.”

“Oh, okay.  Yeah, of course.”

Once they were face to face, Jennie retreats her hands from Wendy’s waist and places them on either side of her own.  She steps back a little and scans the outfit from the satin strapless bodice to the ombre tiered organza.  Once.  Then twice.  Then thrice.

“So…?”  Wendy breaks the silence.

“I hate to say this, but the fortune your mom spent for this is kind of worth it.”

“Thank God.”  Wendy sighs.  “I was afraid it’d be too pompous.”

“Well, it is,” Jennie chuckles, earning a playful slap on the arm from Wendy.  “You look like true royalty, though.  Like Elsa.  Just promise you won’t announce your marriage with a random guy you’ll meet at your party.”

“Pretty sure that’s Anna,” Wendy clears up before heading towards and fully collapsing onto her bed; as much as she loves singing for the Lord, she still wishes she could spend most Saturdays doing something selfishly, instead of fulfilling school requirements, studying advanced math, and practicing for Sunday service.  Still, it’s a consolation that Jennie’s part-time job at the nearby café ends the same time band practice does; she still sometimes gets to spend whatever is left of her Saturday with her favorite person.

Jennie takes the space next to Wendy.  She lies on her side, head propped up with left hand, attention focused on her Wannie and whatever her Wannie says next.  “And there’ll hardly be any random guys there.  Oh, but speaking of marriage,” Wendy pauses, adjusting her head on the pillow to meet her best friend’s curious eyes better, “do you remember Henry?  You punched him in the face once.”

“That was because he kept calling you ‘wifey’ and kissed you without consent!”  Jennie says in defense.

“On the cheek.  And we were six.”

“We were six,” Jennie clarifies, lightly pinching Wendy’s soft cheek.  “He was 10.”

 “Aw,” Wendy rubs her cheek, faking pain.  “Anyway, he’s coming to the party.”

“He’s flying from Boston just to see you the moment you turn legal,” Jennie deadpans.  “Should I be impressed or should I be disgusted?”

“I’m not even sure if he still likes me.  I mean, that was just puppy love.  I don’t even know anyone who still likes the same person they did when they were little.”

Liar.

“Right, right…” Jennie nods.

“But mom wants him there.  Dad wants him there.  Mayor Lau wants him there.”

“Seriously, what K-Drama is this?”

“The kind you wouldn’t watch.”

“Well, I’m watching it—” Jennie warns, leaning closer. “Every minute of it.  Just in case he tries to do something not funny.”

“You need to calm down.  He’s just going to play the piano while I sing.  And then he and I are just gonna dance.  I might even step on his foot.”

“As much as I would love to see that happen, I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself on your birthday.  When’s the cotillion practice, anyway?”

“This coming Friday, after class.” Wendy sighs, blowing her fringes away from her forehead.  “Is a month enough to be as graceful as you?”

“It’s enough for you to not hurt people.”

When Jennie smiles, her cat eyes go hiding.

Wendy figures it may be the reason why her best friend hasn’t noticed the way she looks at her.

She can’t see it.

“I don’t really care, you know?”

“About what?”

“About Henry, whether he still likes me or not.”

“Well, thank God.”

“But our parents do.  Do you think I should give it a shot?  Do you think he would?”

“He’d be stupid not to.”

Wendy raises her eyebrows.

If it's stupid not to give me a shot, then why don't you?

“I’m just saying, if you happen to like someone that doesn’t have Mrs. Shon’s and Pastor Shon’s approval, you really have to fight for that person.  Hard.”

“I can do that.”

“Sure, you can,” Jennie shrugs.

“You say that like I haven’t been fighting to keep you around.”

“You say that like I haven’t been fighting to stay around.”

“Well, that’s because you love me.”

They hold each other’s stare.  Longer than what’s considered appropriate.

There's something there.

And if no one stands down, she might be able to put a name on it .

But then, Jennie smiles.

And when Jennie smiles, her cat eyes go hiding.

She doesn’t want to see it.

 

"Can I be the little spoon tonight?"  Jennie asks, back already turned towards her.