Page 49 of Rhet

“I think the people my dad affected most were my mom and Trent.” This fucking wine is making me open up like this is a therapy session.

“That shouldn’t have happened,” Zeeta says. My attention is fixed on the TV. If I look at her, it will be over.

“Yeah, my dad’s masculinity consists of a constant stream of infidelity and lies. I have no idea why my mom puts up with him.”

I really don’t get why she does that. The lies, the women, and the hurt—despite all of this she stays.

“What about Trent?” Her question breaks me out of my thoughts.

“Trent was perfect. He did well in everything he touched, school, business, everything.” I look at the ceiling trying to balance my emotions.

“Where I was mean, he was kind. The complete opposite of me. However, he still wasn’t enough for my dad.” I ease out of my jacket and rest it on the arm of the sofa.

“How did he die?” she asks.

I inhale because that question makes my heart skip a beat. I try to remember the good and delete the bad.

“We thought that he hung himself, but after further investigations. He was murdered.” Saying the word murder makes my blood crawl.

“Did you catch the killer?” she asks her eyes shine with tears, she’s being genuine.

“No, we never did. We came close to finding something or someone. Yet, it was just a dead end.” My jaw clenches at the thought of Trent’s death. It was so unfair.

She comes closer to me. Not touching me but her shoulders are inches closer to offer some comfort.

“If you could talk to him, what would you say?” she asks.

I frown and look at her. “Is this fucking twenty-one questions?”

She laughs, her hair is messy she looks cute. “You came to my home, while I was watching TV.”

Home? I guess this was her home now, the thought made me mildly happy.

“Fine, I would say I am getting it right. I am getting the Waterfront for you.” My mood becomes somber. I feel like kicking myself for coming here.

“What about you, Zeeta?” I need to shift the game before I break down in tears.

She bites her thumbnails as if she’s deciding on what she can say.

“My brother is like yours, older. He’s in a wheelchair. He got into a misunderstanding. He has never been the same.”

Something shifts in me wanting to protect a brother who I’ve never met. “If you give me the details, I can have people in themisunderstandingtaken care of.”

A smile spreads across her face slowly. “I’m already taking care of that. Ok simpler question.”

“Shoot. Try to lighten the mood please?” I reply feeling at peace.

“What’s your middle name?”

I laugh because if it was one thing I hated, it was my middle name. “Not even my best friends know that. Some people assume its Henry, no one knows.”

She looks shocked “Seriously?”

“I don’t trust you that much,” I laugh.

“I bet its’s something like, Aaron or Jeff. You look like a Jeff,” she chuckles.

“The world may never know,” I retort

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