What He Never Said ✔️

chapter seven • zayna

"Tell me about yourself, Zayna," I say, eager to learn about my companion.

"What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you're willing to share with me."

She shakes her head. "With me, what you see is what you get. I'm a high school dropout who waitresses at a crappy diner. I have a bad attitude and a sharp tongue. I'm not interesting or special or enigmatic, okay? I'm not."

"No, but your legs must be sore from constantly jumping to conclusions," I retaliate. "I'm not trying to romanticize you, Zayna."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm desperate to get out of my house," I confess, remembering the reason I went for a walk in the first place.

"Family troubles?" She puts her spoon down and stares at me. "Racist grandma? Drunk uncle?"

"More like rapist brother." The words slip past my filter and right out of my mouth. It takes me a moment to realize I've said them aloud.

"What?" Zayna's jaw drops. "Are you serious?"

"I... never mind." I shake my head and gulp down my coffee, which is cold and burnt at the same time. "Long story."

She looks around the empty diner. "I have time. So do you, apparently."

I exhale. It would be nice to talk about it with someone, especially someone who's unbiased, who I'll likely never see again.

"Can you keep a secret?" I ask.

"How ominous." She taps her fingers together. "Yes, I can."

"When I was thirteen," I begin, "my older brother raped a girl in our bedroom. I overheard... I overheard the whole thing. A few weeks ago, that girl killed herself."

"Shit." She nods her head, processing the information. "I'm guessing you feel responsible?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"You said you were thirteen, right?"

"Right."

"Then it wasn't your fault. You were a kid. You didn't understand what was going on," she defends me, sounding similar to Winter. "Quit blaming yourself."

"Great advice."

"I try."

I roll my eyes. I don't know what I wanted her to say, but it wasn't that.

"Look, if my fucked up childhood taught me one thing, it's that we can't blame ourselves for the things that happened to us when we were too young to know better," she goes on. "I hated myself for a long time. I've come to realize that it's easier to hate the rest of the world instead."

"You must be fun at parties," I mutter.

"I'm serious. Put the blame where it belongs," she advises. "Your sleazy brother raped that girl, and now she's dead. If you ask me, it's his fault."

I see her point, but I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for Raelyn's death. It's gonna haunt me until I'm wrinkly and gray.

"What about you? What's your damage?" I ask, eager for a subject change.

Zayna tugs at her sleeves. "No offense, Bowie, but my childhood trauma makes yours look like a day at the beach."

"For the record, I hate the beach."

"Same. It's highly overrated."

"Either way, you don't have to tell me," I assure her. After confronting Rae, I've learned that digging up buried trauma does more harm than good.

"Oh, I wasn't going to." She bites her bottom lip, her eyes locked on mine. "You know, I get off shift in thirty minutes."

"You must be excited."

"I am."

"Any plans after work?"

"No, not yet."

"It's Christmas. You're not doing anything?" I ask, finding it hard to believe that she has no one to spend the holiday with.

"I live with my brother, and he won't be home until ten," she explains. "I've got a few hours to kill, if you catch my drift."

I flash a nervous smile. I see what she's getting at. For a girl who was reluctant to sit and have a cup of coffee with me, she seems pretty desperate to get me into bed. All these mixed signals are making it hard for me to figure her out.

And for whatever reason—perhaps I'm a glutton for punishment—it's making me all the more intrigued.

"I live upstairs," she continues, twirling a strand of her amber locks. "My brother and I rent the one-bedroom above the diner. Wanna check it out?"

"You don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"No, I'm more of a straight-shooter."

"I like that." I finish my coffee and slide her a ten-dollar bill. "But like I said, I'm not looking for a hook-up."

She rolls her eyes. I can't tell if I've offended her. She's hard to read. It's like she's written in another language and I'm monolingual.

"I'll see you around." I wink before rising to my feet and exiting the ghost town of a diner.

I begin my trek home, smiling to myself. I'm glad I went out. I'm glad I met Zayna.

I wouldn't mind seeing more of her.

<>*<>*<>*<>*<>

December 26th is my birthday, which usually gets forgotten because it's the day after Christmas. I'm okay with that. I've never been a celebratory guy. I'm willing to bet that Mom and Dad would never gloss over Benson's birthday, but it's fine. I'm not bitter or anything.

On this particular birthday, Mom approaches me with a request: she wants me to look after Evangeline while she and Dad utilize Benson's lavish Christmas present and fly to Bermuda on the first of the year.

"It's such a thoughtful gift, and your dad and I are desperate for a vacation," she elaborates. "Would you mind looking after little Vange?"

I shrug my shoulders and pour myself a cup of black coffee. "That's fine, Mom."

"Thank you, honey." She kisses me on the cheek. "If you want, I can call Benson and see if he'll help out."

"No!" I say too quickly. "I mean, he's probably, like, busy with work and stuff. Can you... can you ask Gemma?"

"You want quality time with your big sister? How sweet." She smiles as she hands me a light blue envelope with my name on it. "Happy birthday, by the way. Your dad and I are so, so proud of the man you're becoming."

"Thanks, Mom." I open the card. Inside is a gift certificate to Shake Shack, my favorite fast food joint in the city. "Ooh, sick! I can take Evangeline here while you're away. God knows she won't eat my cooking."

"You're such a good boy." She places her hand over mine before scurrying upstairs to begin packing for her trip.

A smile tugs at my lips. Is it pathetic that I'm so happy they remembered my birthday? Mom even told me she was proud of me.

I doubt that'll be true when I drop my latest bombshell on them.

I've been thinking about it a lot, and I want to take some time off of school. Indefinitely. University seems insignificant right now. I'm a marketing major, for fuck's sake. I hate marketing. I want to do something important with my life, something that will make the world a more bearable place.

I just have no fucking clue what that is yet.