The Deal

Ten-Bernadette

Back at our apartment, I'm seated on the living room couch, watching, to my horror, season two episodes of the country's most controversial Soap Opera, Class. A show too hot and controversial for a streaming service like Netflix, so I revert to the days of old-fashioned DVDs. It's a good thing Thabo had kept his old deck player from back in his Uni days.

Not only was I young, baby-faced, and full of exploding charisma, but I also had the beauty and shape of a goddess. Beneath the short pants exposing thick, chocolate, tanned, thunder-thighs, young Bernadette was an entirely different soul. I can't believe I transformed from that to this; a woman
of middle-aged misery, all because she wouldn't stop drinking.

Skipping through episodes, one thing came to notice. Half of each episode had me...... younger me, acting in a raunchy scene. I, as Aneska, posed in raunchy positions and made crude sex comments after a dramatic scene. The camera shots and angles all focus on my assets, even as a dramatic fight scene plays out. How this show garnered a large fan base and cult following, I have no clue.

I burst into a chuckle. So, this was my father's creation. This was the version of the twenty-one-year-old daughter he saw as he did what he did years ago. And as for Bill, this is the seventeen-year-old fictional character polluting his thoughts. Moses created a sick fantasy centered on his daughter. Now Bill wants to live in it. Yvonne told me Moses died a painful death, but no one knew how he met his fate, except me and my mother, Shoki Amara. I haven't spoken to her since the car crash, neither has anyone spoken of her as well.

Tired of the nonsensical Soap drama, I flip the CD out from the deck and shut the TV off. Without a train of thought, I snap the disc in half. I go for the other DVDs of the first, second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh seasons. One by one, I snap the discs in half and fling the pieces into the trashcan. When Thabo walks in with two glasses of non-alcoholic grape wine, he says nothing about the wrath I unleashed upon those discs. He just hands me the glass and drinks with me.

"Sorry about the CDs, honey," I say to him. "I had to let go-"

"I know," he replies. "You needed to do that. Let go of the rage."

I trace a glance at him. "You kept some of the letters he sent to me. I wanna see them, please."

Thabo presses his lips together, curving his ring finger around the mouth of his glass. "Bill became enraged when you never wrote back. He felt neglected and betrayed. Then, he became vengeful. The first time he came in contact with us, he wore a mask. That night, I was still cooped up with work. I was busy with a client until my brother stormed in. We quarreled. He was being the idiot that he was, and it pissed me off. While this was going on, you were alone in the house. Tipsy as hell after downing six bottles of bourbon. Bill broke into the house, armed, and... raped you."

Thabo swallows hard, his face grimacing. "Because you were drunk, he overpowered you. You were bound and gagged. He wanted to know why you kept ignoring him. I arrived home, but not in time to stop him from touching you. Bill caught me off-guard. Just like you, he tied me up, but he wanted to punish you. So, while you watched, he attacked me. Beat me on the friggin' back with steel chains he bought along with him. But you got out. I guess he was sloppy with his rope skills. You stabbed his chest twice. But we thought he was dead. Turns out he survived when he fled the scene before the police showed up."

As my husband reminisces about painful memories, everything makes sense. The pieces slowly connect. Relief warms up my chest. I'm so lucky I forgot the night, but for how long?

"That explains the scars you keep hiding, right?" I inquire, sitting the glass of non-alcoholic wine on the wooden table nearby.

"I'm afraid so. This is why I've tightened the security of this house." His face lights up at the mention, as I gape at the corners of the ceiling, wondering where the CCTV cameras are located. The front door harnesses a four-digit code. It's been bugging me ever since I returned home.