CHAPTER 3

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I've written a dozen mental apologies for Rhowen, imagining all the things I could say to her. Like It wasn't what I wanted, that It was not intend to her, and that I really feel sorry for everything. Among all things Rhowen wanted or predicted, the death turned out to be true. I fear they ask me to tell something about her or something like that. I can't. I don't know what to say.

Alejandro took my hand. He wanted to hug me, I know, but how can he, with these crowd around?

"Her name was Rhowen Fenton"

I never knew her last name. I never knew her.

But I knew that she can tell the exact number of Tic-tac candy in each box. I once try to count it with her. She wanted to prove me that she was right. I resign on the forty fourth. She was that one girl who has what it takes to get the hell out of this town. Rhowen knows who wore what on a particular day. She was like the archive. She impressed me a lot.

Her Favourite song was a sound track from Disney's Hercules. The one Meg sung at the fountain. I don't know the English title. I do know that her favourite food was Chilli con carne but it was before she tasted Alejandro's Bolognese pasta. She craved for it every single week. But Alejandro was not a chef nor has the time to cook for her. He was not a social person. He cooks only for me or for this mama. That one time, he cooks only because I broke my arm and Rhowen was there.

After the "Bolognese of her dream" as she called it, Rhowen went on a mission defeat Alejandro's recipe. Alejandro didn't like her very much. Within a few weeks she'd amassed an exhaustive list of recipe. "Have you ever know how to boil an egg?" I'd asked her as she put the grocery bag on the kitchen table.

I knew she hadn't. "I have time," she'd said, opening her fridge.

x x x

As I Fear, Olivia and George asked me for a speech. The service was not held in the Catholic church, the one the Fenton had attended for years, because Father Glen, though a friend of the family, was a rules man. He told the Fenton that Rhowen had committed a cardinal sin and therefore her soul wouldn't be admitted to heaven, or her body to the Catholic cemetery. Poor Rhowen, If Father Glen knew. The one who should not be in heaven was me. Not Rhowen.

When the police took a while to release her body, we thought everything was ruined. Adam thought they might have seen something. But he was calm. Not afraid. Apparently she hangs herself in a way that was weird though anyone who knew Rhowen wouldn't be surprised by this. She was not the kind of girl who wear expensive clothes, always listened to her parents.

The casket everyone cried over was white. I haven't seen her body as it was already closed. I overheard Rhowen's aunt Tulip telling her husband that she will be with Hitler in hell. No one knew what to write on the gravestone. Someone suggest "Rot in hell". It was horrible but I didn't expect nothing less for a super religious town.

I tried to write a eulogy for that service. I did. I step on the small podium. I watch the crowd for a moment. Then I stare at Alejandro. He was very classy. And I could not tell what he was thinking. His Black sunglasses attracts me. Makes me forgot everything.

"Rhowen was a good person" I started.

"She was a good person. She does not deserve to 'rot in hell', she deserves better than this. Even if she died ..."

I stopped. I cannot. She died.

"She liked Ed Sheeran and Beyoncé and she loves Bolognese pasta. She fought for LGBT Rights and hate cats."

"Rhowen didn't deserved to be around some piece of..."

"I think that you are a little overwhelmed. Thank you for the eulogy"

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