To Learn to Let Go | ✔

Chapter 10

"I'm sorry, Trent."

"It's okay. It just, it didn't use to be like this. The house was beautiful, classic works of art on the wall, funky vintage furniture, the walls were painted these bright colors. This prim and proper place had character, had soul, had life. Now it's just this cold hell." His eyes looked sad, and the corners of his mouth turned down. His eyes kind of glossed over, like he was somewhere else.

"What happened?" He looked up at me and I could see the water welling up in his eyes.

"My mom died," he said while holding back his tears.

"I had no idea, I-I'm so sorry. How long ago?"

"Just before high school," he told me.

"Is that w-why you,"

"Why I am how I am?" He asked and I nodded. "Yeah."

"You kn-know that's not going to ch-change what happened right?"

"It helps me forget."

"Sometimes I wish I could forget," I whispered to myself.

"Forget what?" Trent asked. Damn, he heard me?

"Nothing, ignore me."

"Alright, for now." He smirked. "Want to see my room?"

"Sure," I nodded and followed Trent up the grand staircase. He led me to a closed door at the end of the hall, covered in do not enter signs and caution tape. This was much more what I expected from Trent. He took a deep breath and opened the door to a large bedroom, with a queen-sized bed in the middle, navy blue walls, posters of various bands, cars, and models all over the walls. The sheets were a shade of blue that matched the walls, and there was a little brown teddy bear in the middle of the bed, tattered and worn from years of snuggles, spilled food and adventures. There was a desk against one wall with a MacBook and piles of books surrounding it. The dresser and nightstands were covered in empty beer bottles and cigarette cartons. The carpeted floor was lined with piles of dirty clothes that had overflowed from the hamper by the closet door. It was a mess, yet I got the impression it was completely organized at the same time.

"It's a mess, I know, but it's mine."

"No, it's great. Very you," I smiled at him.

"I thought you said you didn't know me?" He questioned.

"I think I'm starting to."

Trent and I sat on his bed in his room for hours, just talking. I sat down shakily on top of the navy-blue comforter, taking deep breaths to try to steady myself. Trent noticed my apprehension and moved a little further away from me, so we were on complete opposite ends of the bed. I appreciated that, I didn't even have to say I was uncomfortable, he always just sensed it. He always knew what to do to calm me down and never took it personally. It was like he just understood, I had this damage and it wasn't his fault.

"Trent, what happened to your mom?" I asked after hours of small talk about our favorite colors, foods, and movies. He looked down at his hands when I asked and refused to make eye contact as he spoke. I almost felt bad for asking, I didn't want him to feel like he owed me an answer.

"She um, she killed herself." I gasped. "She struggled for years with depression, ever since she was my age. She tried all kinds of therapy, medicines, none of it worked."

"I'm so sorry," I wanted to reach out and grab his hand, I tried to, but I could feel my anxiety rise as I reached my hand out.

"I could have stopped her Gray, I should have stopped her. I should have known what she was going through, looking back there were so many signs." Him saying those words gave me flashbacks to my own trauma. There were signs there too. Hugs that lasted too long, hands that wandered when they touched me, eyes that lingered a little too long.

"Hindsight's always 20/20, Trent."

"She started giving me all of these gifts, talking about all of these things that she wanted me to do if and when she was ever gone, she had been so sad for so many months, and then she was just so happy. It was like a switch flipped and she was my mom again. I was just so happy to see her being herself again. I was so stupid." I noticed a tear fall and hit the comforter. Trent pretended to scratch his face so he could wipe the tears away. He cleared his throat and looked around the room, anywhere but at me.

"You couldn't have p-possibly known; you were just a k-kid." As the words came out of my mouth, I couldn't figure out who I was saying them to; me, or him. "I'm sorry I asked, I didn't mean to upset you. I was just curious."

"It's okay, you didn't upset me, I'm okay."

"Y-you don't have to pretend-"

"I'm-" Trent started to say forcefully. "I'm not, I'm really okay," He said more gingerly. I didn't want to push him any further, I didn't want him to raise his voice. Our eyes met and my breath caught in my throat. He was breathtakingly beautiful, but I could see right through his lies, I could see the sadness behind those beautiful emerald eyes. He smiled, as we stared into each other's eyes. We sat like that for a few moments until we heard the sound of a car door slam. Trent's face instantly dropped, fear now present in his eyes. My brows furrowed in confusion. "We have to go," he said and shot out of the bed, he threw on his shoes and I did the same. He led me down a staircase that led down to the kitchen. As we heard keys at the front lock Trent opened the door to the garage, ushering me through and closing it behind me. I heard the front door open and slam shut, heavy footsteps made their way to the kitchen.

"Son," a raspy voice, deeper than Trent's said.

"Hey Dad, how was work?" I heard Trent ask the man who I now knew was his father.

"I performed surgery for 9 hours boy, I'm fucking exhausted leave me the hell alone." Mr. Rodriguez said sternly.

"Alright, sorry. I'm going to Brayden's," Trent said quietly, his voice up an octave from his usual rasp. He was afraid. A moment later the garage door opened, I jumped out of the way of the door frame as Trent entered the garage. Trent opened the garage door and rushed me into the passenger seat of his truck. I was so confused, but more importantly, worried about what had just happened.