Page 43 of Rather: The Therapist

“Sit down, Rather.”

Obliging, I sat beside him, resuming my position.

“I’m insulted.”

“For me?” He chuckled.

“Yes. And, Dad.”

I laced my arms and rested them beneath my bosom.

“You shouldn’t be, Rather.”

“Well, I am. Now, tell me, why would any of us seeing a man opposite of you be considered a better choice in your eyes?”

“I–”

“Because, honestly, Chem, what man other than one such as yourself would understand I’ve burned a man’s balls to a crisp just so he could give me the combination to a safe that wasn’t rightfully ours?”

“It became ours when he decided to cut my work.”

“It was his work.”

“It was stamped with my name. It was my formula. Don’t fuck with my formula. That was one of the rules. He knew the consequences.”

“Which, again, proves my point. What normal guy would understand the heights I’d go to for my family, our operation, and our–”

“Rather.”

“No. No. Tell me. And, don’t forget the man I refused his insulin until he gave up his boss. The guy walking around right now with one eye and missing fingers. He was only a witness. He wasn’t the perpetrator.”

“He acted like he couldn’t see motherfuckers playing on my name, baby. That was his first mistake. He didn’t try to stop them when the shit went down, either. That was his second one. Being caught on camera, simply watching it all was the third. His eyes and hands were pointless then, so there was no point of them afterward, right?”

“Oh, I’m with you on that. But, that doesn’t answer my question. What normal guy, Chem?”

He watched me carefully, knowing I was far from finished.

“And the old man I fed viagra for a week straight.”

Amused, he shook his head. He was so handsome. His pending smile made me smile.

“How you handle your business is none of my business, baby, as long as it gets handled.”

“The guy with the permanent halo, now.”

He tossed his hands in the air, “He should’ve used his head when he had the chance.”

“His muscles are still deteriorating.”

“His brain seemed to have done so first. Not my fault. Stupid shit gets you stupid results, every time.”

“The question.”

“I understand, baby.”

“Well, then.” I shrugged, “Don’t do that, again. Optimism is hoping and praying I end up with a man who loves and cherishes me, one who reminds me of all the amazing things I love about my father and brother, the men who set the bar high in the sky.”

“That’s optimism, Teddy. Because, if you thought for a second I wanted a normal boy, then I’m afraid you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

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