sᴇʜᴠᴇɴ ᴠᴀʀɢᴀs
Mrs. Sandra Whitlock walked me through the foyer and common areas of the halfway house for the last-minute visit to see Monica. Like any time I've visited, there wasn't much activity or people hanging around, but today was even quieter than usual.
We've never spoken about how many peers Monica has here, but she wasn't necessarily inviting towards new friends — so there's no shocker in the lack of that topic.
However, the second I stepped into the backyard, for our usual meeting spot in the gazebo, I noted she was very friendly toward the idea of reconciliation.
"Hi—hey, Sehven." I blinked a few times at the deep, yet soothing voice greeting me. There was like a shockwave in the air from my name coming out of his mouth.
"Hi." Richard laughed shyly at me insisting on using his original greeting. Hi. It fits within the boundaries of our situation, just fine.
Monica was seated in the self-proclaimed spot — her eyes on the two of us. I would suppose this is why she denied my offer to pick up lunch. Still? I got her an Oreo milkshake from Chic-Fil-A en route here. I was stopping regardless and didn't want to eat in front of the woman.
"Hi...?" Richard questioned, but more so to himself — if that is even possible to do while speaking aloud. He nodded disappointedly, before correcting his stance. My father has always been one to ooze confidence even with the failure of his first marriage. "You look beautiful, sweetheart."
Sweetheart?
"Thanks..." Ideally, the conversation ends right here and so, that was my queue to walk around the man that once meant the world to me.
"Your mother showed me a picture of your daughter while I was here today. I didn't realize how it'd feel to find out I was a grandfather," Ricky laughed at his own words, the sound dying down slowly when I only blinked in response. Grandfather? To be honest, Monica was no Grandmother. Titles to Zuri Chanai didn't come easy. You had to prove some sort of relativity and more importantly, responsibility with me, first.
"Actually — congratulations is what I should be saying. Makes me proud honestly. Mo says you married the little boy that lived next door," My father was never a fan of the family 'next door'. Regardless of Monica's accusations. So his words were a bit confusing and obviously not genuine. "I know Granny Jo is proud."
"She should be. She raised two good girls, even in her old age," Ricky felt the hit from my words. His eyes fell and went to my feet in the nude Gucci sandal slides.
"And you know my husband's name, Richard. He's not just the little boy from next door."
"I think the whole Houston knows your husband's name, Pumpkin." Those words made Ricky look me in the face, a smile on his face. Again, nothing is genuine.
It was the constant usage of child-like pet names that left me dumbstruck. Was he gaslighting me?
Smirking bitterly, I stepped closer but simply shook my head. Slyly sipping my milkshake while sizing the six-foot frame in my view. "That's good to know. Have a good one, Ricky."
This time, there was no possibility of continuing this little chat. In fact, I locked eyes with my mother — seeing as she understood the unspoken words on my facial expression.
Yet Monica questions why I won't bring Zy around. This is the exact reason why!
"...hey."
"Why was Richard here?" I asked, sitting down our drinks and my belongings. Monica slid the free cup closer to herself, shrugging a shoulder. "All that shit you talked last time I was here and now y'all having tea parties and shit? And what's this with you showing him pictures of Zuri, Mo?"
