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Knock knock.
Stevie quietly opened the door, peeking her head inside. Gwen was lying on her bed, curly hair obscuring her face as she had been the entire day. Stevie couldn’t help but feel a pang of concern. She hadn’t gone to any of her classes, or even got up for breakfast. Gwen’s never been much of a morning person, but she’d never slept through an entire morning. Maybe she pulled an all-nighter in the library, or partied a bit too hard at a club somewhere. Curiosity getting the best of her, Stevie carefully sat on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping under her weight.
“Hey.” She placed a hand on Gwen’s arm. “You good?”
Gwen remained still for a few seconds until she yawned, brushing her hair out of her face. Her eyes were all puffy, and her nose red. Immediately, Stevie felt a flash of regret. What if she didn’t want to be disturbed? What if she was imposing?
Gwen must have sensed her sudden alarm, her eyes widening as she scrambled to sit up. “It’s fine! I’m okay, don’t worry. It’s just…” She sniffed, moving to the side to reveal multiple crumpled up tissues beside her pillow, with more jammed underneath. “...Allergies?” She said with the least convincing voice, smiling sheepishly.
Stevie wasn’t an idiot. She shared a room with her sister until she was 16, she knew exactly what it looked like when someone was trying to hide the fact they’d just spent hours sobbing their eyes out. She also knows enough not to question it when they tell you otherwise. It never ends well.
“Oh… shit,” Out of habit, she forced her facial expression into something sympathetic, but not so much so to the point where she looked condescending. “Well… do you need some… Claritin or something? I can run to the store to get you some. I can get you some food too. I don’t think you’ve eaten yet, have you?”
Gwen pulled the covers closer over her chest, looking guilty. Stevie cursed internally. Too much. She cleared her throat. “I mean—it’s really no trouble! But—but only if you want it!”
This was unheard of. Stevie Han—the girl who’s never had an awkward moment in her life—was absolutely bombing this social interaction. She’s even stuttering, for fuck’s sake. And this was her roommate, her friend, who’s she’s literally been with for months now, clearly in a vulnerable state. Yet here she was, growing painfully aware that she hadn’t taken her hand off her arm this whole time. Now that she was thinking about it, she does look really good in that sweater. Stevie also noticed that this was one of those rare moments where Gwen didn’t have any makeup on, and somehow, the puffiness made her look… kind of adorable.
Ugh, Stevie, there’s a time and place to be a total lesbian, this girl is a mess right now.
Ignoring the rising heat in her cheeks, Stevie gave Gwen’s arm a tentative pat before stuffing her hands back in her pocket. “Sorry to disturb you, I’m gonna go study in the library—”
“Wait.”
Gwen’s voice was soft, still raw from hours of crying. Her eyes darted around the room as she played with the ends of her sleeves, like she was trying to find her next words.
“Can you… stay with me for a bit?”
Gwen’s mouth fell open slightly, seemingly surprised by herself. “Oh, sorry, you did need to study after all, right? God, I don’t wanna take much of your time—”
“Yeah!”
Stevie said, a bit too loud and definitely way too enthusiastically. God, out of all the times to lose her charm, it had to be around a pretty girl? This was definitely some kind of homophobic curse cast upon her. As always, the work of Donald Trump.
Gwen shuffled to give Stevie some room to sit next to her. It was a little cramped, and balls of tissue kept falling onto the floor as they moved, but soon enough, they were side by side, shoulder to shoulder.
“So…” Stevie started in an attempt to get the ball rolling. She mentally prepared herself for the conversation about to follow.
It’s just talking. Talking and listening. Mostly listening. You’re good at talking. You’re also good at listening, kind of. Just be open, relaxed, show her you’re safe. Don’t interrupt her. Seriously, do not even think of interrupting her—
The silence (though Stevie wouldn’t call it that thanks to her long-winded inner monologue) stretched for a few minutes until, finally, Gwen spoke up.
“Stevie?”
“Yeah? What’s up?”
Gwen brought her knees up to her chest, the blanket tenting as she did. She ducked, covering her face and sighing into the fabric. “I… kinda… lied. About the allergies thing.”
I knew it.
“Oh. So… what’s going then? For real.”
Gwen opened and closed her mouth a few times, and Stevie could see the gears turning in her head, weighing the options between telling her the truth or not. She fished out a silver locket from under her shirt, caressing it rhythmically between her fingers. Stevie remembered complimenting it a week after they settled in the dorm, noticing how she never took it off. She remembered the way Gwen’s eyes glistened with sadness, before quietly thanking her.
“Three years ago, today… my uh, mom… passed. Died. She—she died.”
Every carefully rehearsed thought she’d had about the trajectory of this conversation flew out the window and splattered into oncoming traffic. No wonder she couldn’t go to class, or get out of bed—she couldn’t imagine how heavy that must’ve felt. A lump formed in her throat, unable to find something appropriate to say at the moment.
“Oh. I… I’m so sorry. C-condolences.”
Gwen continued, clearly used to having these kinds of talks before and eager to get all the frequently asked questions out of the way. “It was an accidental overdose. She was an addict, y’know? But—but she was recovering! She was on her way to becoming two years sober. Dad and I were so proud of her. We were supposed to go out to dinner on the day of. Olive Garden.” The corners of her mouth twitched upward into a tiny, fond smile. “She loved Olive Garden.”
Stevie nodded. “They do have pretty good garlic breadsticks.”
Gwen’s eyes lit up. “That’s what she always said!”
The two of them burst into laughter, the sound of it bouncing off the walls until it trailed off into wistful silence.
Gwen opened the locket up, revealing a picture of her mom. Stevie found it hard not to mistake it for a faded picture of Gwen herself. The resemblance was uncanny. Same eyes. Same dark curls. Even the way she smiled was exactly like hers: mouth closed, like she was trying to hold back from showing how happy she actually was.
“She looks beautiful,” Stevie remarked. She meant it.
Gwen chuckled. “This was from… Christmas, I think. I was 12 years old. We’d never sat down and done a proper family photoshoot before, so Mom thought it was a great idea to go down to JCPenney to get some done. In the full photo they had me dressed up as a reindeer.”
Stevie snorted. “Seriously? Not even an elf?”
“Not. Even. An elf. So it was: My dad. Santa, obviously, fake white beard and all. My mom was Mrs. Claus. And I was… Rudolph? Prancer? Comet? I don’t know, one of those guys.”
More and more memories continued to be shared, from the most mundane to the wonderfully bizarre. How Gwen’s mom insisted on getting front row seats to every junior theater production. Stories from her mom’s childhood growing up in the Philippines. That one time she tried teaching Gwen how to drive in some random parking lot and managed to dent the only other car parked there.
By the time the sun was starting to set, Gwen had become livelier, her expression lightening up as she kept talking about the good memories she had with her mom. Stevie nodded along, laughing and making witty commentary almost on cue. “Wow,” she said as she wheezed, her cheeks starting to feel sore from all that laughing. “She sounds fun. She must’ve been a good mom, huh? You two seemed really close.”
Gwen froze. Stevie immediately tensed. Did she say something wrong? Before she could open her mouth to apologize, the curly-haired girl swallowed hard before answering.
“Well… we did have a lot of good days,” she began hopefully. Then, her posture deflated and she looked back down at her locket. “But we also had a shit ton of bad days. Her battle with addiction wasn’t the easiest. She started getting in and out of rehab more often as I grew up. I wouldn’t even see her for months at a time.”
Her gaze grew solemn. “Sometimes, when she was at home, it would get bad. And I mean… really bad. She and Dad would have constant screaming matches, things would be thrown around the house, and on rare occasions…” She trailed off, feeling herself getting choked up. “She’d… hurt me.”
Stevie’s heart shattered. For the past few hours they’d been making light of things, focusing more on the good parts of Gwen’s mother’s life. This new set of information changed everything. This woman, who had made most of her school lunches, sang her lullabies at night, and held her hand at the doctor’s office—was also someone who had deeply hurt her. How do you handle that kind of contradiction?
“I…” Stevie was speechless. She’d never had to comfort a grieving person before, especially with a situation this… complicated. “That must be… hard. To think about.”
Gwen nodded quietly, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. “Yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom, and I know I’m not supposed to speak ill of the dead or whatever, but… she really was difficult to be around most days. You never really knew which version of her you were gonna get. I spent a good chunk of my life so… scared of her. She could be cheerful and bubbly one moment then chucking a glass at Dad the next. I’m not denying that I also have a lot of fond memories with her, it’s just that… now that she’s gone—” Her voice cracked, and Stevie’s hand instinctively placed itself comfortingly on her shoulder.
“I wish we could’ve made more,” she whispered, before leaning back against the headboard and covering her eyes with her wrists, letting her tears blot onto the fabric of her already worn knit sweater. Stevie’s arm extended, pulling her gently into a side hug and rubbing soothing circles onto her other shoulder as she started crying yet again. After a moment of holding her, Gwen sniffed, wiping her face on her sleeve.
“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” She let out a sarcastic breath of laughter, fighting through another sob. “She was… so awful. But… I still miss her, Stevie. I miss her so much.”
In an instant, Stevie’s brain connected the dots. “Is… Is that why you took up Psychology? To try and understand her?”
Gwen started to nod, only to end up shaking her head. “I don’t know, really. She wanted me to go to Juilliard, or NYU. She always told me that I was gonna be on Broadway one day. But when she died, everything was so confusing. I thought… if I could start studying Psychology it’d bring me one step closer to knowing why, y’know? And maybe… I could understand myself a little more too. Understand why some people still miss someone who really hurt them.”
Stevie sighed, pulling Gwen even closer. Gwen put her head on her shoulder, leaning against her. There they sat, both carrying the weight of the conversation heavy in their chests. They stared at the locket, reckoning the dual truths of the woman whose picture was inside. Beside it, though, there was a small engraving—a carnation flower.
“Does that mean something?” Stevie pointed at it, smoothing her finger over the detail.
Gwen shrugged. “It was a freebie from the funeral home. Something about remembrance.” She gave the locket one final look before closing it, hiding it under her sweater once more. She turned to Stevie, who was starting to tear up a little herself. “Thanks,” she said, smiling softly at her. The melancholy in the atmosphere faded into a quiet tranquility.
“It’s no problem.” Stevie reassured, giving her another light squeeze before pulling away.
Gwen dried the last of her tears before getting out of bed, accidentally stepping onto some tissues. “I should probably clean up.”
Stevie got up too, stretching out her arms. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a bite to eat.” She broke into a sly smile. “Wanna get dinner?”
Gwen chuckled. “No, I can’t go out like this! I look awful.”
Stevie raised an eyebrow at that. “You’re pretty.”
She was surprised at how sure she sounded, even though the words just spilled out of her mouth. But she figured, after everything, she could use a compliment. Besides, it wasn’t like she was lying. She did look pretty, even after spending hours crying. It’s a hard look to pull off.
Gwen blushed, awkwardly standing there for a moment, until she mumbled a shy ‘thank you’ and something about how she was gonna wash her face. With that, she quickly darted off into the bathroom, the sound of water splashing muffled through the door.
While she waited for her to come out and mentally kicked herself for making it weird, Stevie pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she saw her mom. It’d been a while. Taking a deep breath, she pressed a button and put the phone up to her ear.
“Yeoboseyo? Eomma? How are you?”