Homicide and Halo-Halo (Tita Rosie's Kitchen Mystery #2)(60)

“Thank you so, so much. Sorry for just bursting in on you like this, but I couldn’t deal with being around him anymore,” I said. “Ate Bernie, you should probably get going. I bet your mom’s worried about you.”

Bernadette snorted. “And Tita Rosie and Lola Flor won’t be? We can call our families later. What’s going on with you?”

“Yeah, Lila, are you OK? Is he . . . Are you . . .” Sana hesitated, not sure which delicate question to ask first.

“No, it’s nothing like that. I’m just annoyed with him right now. He won’t shut up about this therapist he wants me to talk to. But I’m fine.”

Bernadette said, “You are not fine,” at the same time that Sana said, “Are you sure? I know that we only met recently, but even I can tell that some of your behavior has been a little . . . erratic lately.”

I scoffed. “Erratic how?”

Bernadette raised an eyebrow. “Lila, you had a panic attack and punched that reporter when he grabbed your arm.”

“Yeah, well, he shouldn’t have touched me without my consent.”

Sana nodded. “True, but I’m guessing that there’s more to it than that?”

I focused on taking off my shoes so I didn’t have to look at her. “What did Detective Park want to talk to you about?”

“If you want me to open up, I expect you to do the same.”

I crossed my arms. “I’m fine. It’s just that sometimes little things happen that remind me of what happened a few months ago.”

Her face took on a sympathetic look and she gestured to her couch. After I sat down and Bernadette settled herself on the floor, Sana poured us each a glass of cold-pressed juice and joined me on the couch. “I’m guessing you mean your ex-boyfriend’s murder?”

I flinched. “Yeah. Detective Park kept it out of the papers, but I almost died. Adeena, too. How do I just move on from that? How do I just pretend that everything’s the same as before? The killer held Adeena hostage and she’s still kicking butt and taking names. Why am I the only one who can’t move on?”

Months and months of frustration and guilt and shame just poured out of me, a catharsis I hadn’t realized I’d needed. Sana and Bernadette just sat there and listened, not butting in, not offering their opinion, and from what I could tell, not judging me. Was this what it was like to talk to a therapist?

As if reading my mind, Sana said, “Why haven’t you seen a therapist about this? It seems like Detective Park has done a lot of research to find someone willing to help you. Is it the cost? I know it’s not cheap.”

I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand. Asians do not go to therapy. We don’t even acknowledge that mental health issues exist. It’s considered a sign of weakness, that we couldn’t work things out for ourselves. And a sign of shame, that we even needed help in the first place. Tita Rosie is the kindest, most loving person I’ve ever met and even she believes in not airing your dirty laundry for other people to see. She’s very much an ‘It’s in God’s hands’ type person. Bahala na, you know? And my grandmother?” I laughed. “She’ll just tell me I’m lazy like my mother. To keep my mouth shut and get to work.”

Sana frowned. “Why do you act like this is specifically a race thing? As if this society doesn’t push this mental health stigma on everyone? You think Black families love having relatives who are in therapy? That hasn’t stopped me.”

“You’re in therapy?” I blurted out, then clapped my hand over my mouth like a kid. “That was so rude and invasive, I’m sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“To be fair, I asked you first. I’m not ashamed of it. Therapy was the best decision I’ve ever made, and it sounds like you could benefit from it as well.” She took a deep breath and eyed me and Bernadette warily. “You know about my past.”

It wasn’t a question.

“It, uh, might have come up at one point, even before that article.”

“And you also know that Rob was trying to blackmail me into sleeping with him. So that nobody else would find out.”

“Punyeta!” Juice sloshed out of Bernadette’s glass as that curse burst out of her. If Rob Thompson wasn’t already dead, I would’ve been worried about what’d happen to him if Bernadette got her hands on him.

I knew he was shady AF but had no idea he’d stoop that low. I wasn’t happy he was dead, but let’s just say my lack of sympathy over his death was growing by the minute. “I didn’t realize that’s what he wanted in return from you. How did he even know about it?”

She grimaced. “I told him. I thought he was my friend. Like I mentioned with Valerie, I work hard to keep my coach-client relationships professional. It’s extremely difficult to separate the lines between coach, therapist, and friend, and I wanted to have clear boundaries from the beginning. But that meant cutting out a lot of possible friendships. I didn’t know anyone when I first moved here and didn’t have to worry about that separation with Rob. When he wasn’t busy being led around by what was in his pants, he was a funny, charming, and intelligent person.”

I swirled the juice in my glass. “Did you have feelings for him?”

“Not romantic ones. Rob and Beth’s relationship wasn’t healthy, but not because it was an open relationship. True polyamory involves openness and communication. It’s not meant to be manipulative. I’ve been through enough that I wasn’t about to let myself become a pawn in a rich man’s game. He entertained me, but he didn’t manage to charm me. Thank God,” she added under her breath.