I change my clothes three times, styled my hair praying he would like it and bought a new pair of sandals. Brick honks the horn and then rings my cell. I decide on the yellow sundress and run down the stairs. The air is dry, the smog is thick, and the humidity is high. I step and he looks me up and down.
"You look nice."
"Thank you for noticing."
I wanted him to notice me, to approve how I look because I'm feeling him. He wore a simple white t shirt, shorts, and a LA fitted cap and a pair of Jordans.
"Why wouldn't I notice you?"
"Since the other day you've avoided me. Did I do something wrong?"
He puts on his seatbelt and stretches his long legs.
"No, you and me are getting too close and I can't afford to fall for you. Right now you need to get yourself together. Love and sex complicates things."
"Just say it Jensen your not checking for me."
"I'm not in the mood to argue or go through this with you today. You are in recovery and from what I read relationship are not good to get in while in treatment."
"I'm talking about our friendship and not a relationship. I think we can be friends or does that complicate my recovery?"
I fold my arms and look out the window. There are white girls in a jeep,in bikinis, and he is gawking at them. I suck my teeth and roll my eyes.
"Everything isn't about you. I have some heavy shit on my plate too. Your friendship means something but I....never mind."
"What?"
"You make me want more of you and for you. I want to fix all your broken pieces and heal your wounds. In two months you changed my life and whether you know it or not you're special to me."
He touches my hand and our fingers interlock. I kiss his cheek, and he smirks. What exactly are we doing to one another? Love can't enter we barely know one another. Two misfits with issues that have issues. I am attempting to stop cutting. I haven't use drugs or desire too. All I think about is him, and drawing.
"You're special to me so don't be blowing me off."
"You nervous about seeing this therapist?"
I shrug my shoulders. My mother took to me therapy and this can't be any different. Someone analyzing your every word spoken.
"I don't know."
"Give it a chance."
"You've ever been to see a therapist, Jensen?"
"I never talk or said a word. Now, I wish I did. I need help the shit with my past."
We pull up to the white building and I hesitate to get out. Jensen walked out first and opened the door. He took me by the hand and intertwined my fingers with his. I took a deep breath, and he pushed my bang out of my face.
“Walk in there and be honest that’s it. Don’t back out now.”
He opened the door and two other women are sitting, both white women. The room is directed with flowers, quotes of inspiration, I signed the clipboard, and the receptionist calls me up.
“Fill out these forms, answer the questions to the best of your ability, and sign the bottom.” I sit next to Jensen and he is reading the LA times and I want to leave. I am checking yes to most of the questions. An addict, a depressed, self-harming loser and every one will know. I drop the clip board on the coffee table and stand up.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this. I will be so embarrased and ashamed.”
I sit in the hallway and he stands over me with his arms folded.
“You just gonna quit before even starting?”
“Don’t preach to me.”
He throws his hands up and nods his head.
“You are fucking impossible and you like being the damn victim.”
“I am the victim.”
“No, you are afraid of actually living outside of broken, and getting fixed.”
“I don’t have to listen to this.”
He yells,
“Listen to the truth and fix some shit, stop getting high, and hurting yourself. Man, I am in too deep of your life. Go ahead and give up be the victim. Just know I don’t do the damsel in distress.”
“I’ll stay for you.”
“Nah, don’t do this shit for me and pretend you don’t want to get high or cut yourself.”
“What do you want me to do?”
He adjusted his cap, cleared his throat, and leaned against the wall.
“The woman who raised me promise to get off prescription drugs for me. She’d go to the meetings, for a year she practiced lying to me. and at night she go and pop Valiums, sneak out and smoke water. She declined every day, lost her job for stealing codeine, and she took more pills, and then one day coming home I found her dead. Sad story short I don’t need you doing anything for me that you won’t do for your damn self.”
“I don’t want people judging me.”
“How the hell can they judge you when everyone has an issue, Janae? You know what call me when you figure it out.”
He marched out of the building, leaving me sitting on the floor, and I lay my head on my lap trying to figure out my next move. Was I scared of getting fix or just afraid of being judged?. The tall, slender woman with dreadlocks wrapped with a white cloth, a sleeveless linen dress and white wedges. She smells like an exotic flowers, her skin the color of sand, a earring in her left nostril.
“Are you Janae?”
“Yes.”
“The first time is always scary. No judging, just me getting to know you.”
I walked into the office, and she lead the way. The moment I stepped into her office it smelled like lavender and vanilla. There was soft jazz music playing, quotes by Oprah, Michelle Obama, and the Bible.
She leans against the glass door and extends her hand. I take it and shake her hand.
The chairs are soft bean bags, carpet with black and gold in it. It is not the typical shrink’s office with a couch or lounge chair. On the desk is a laptop, pictures of a young girl in various stages of life. Her bangles are stack with colors of purple, orange, and red.
“Would you like some hibicius tea?”
“I never tried it before?”
She pulled out two glass tea cups, added one tablespoon of brown sugar, and a cinammon stick.
“It has great benefits for depression and a host of other illness. Drink up!”
I take a sip and it is flavorful like spiced cranberry juice but sweeter. Her degrees are on the wall, and a picture of her and Maya Angelou.
“My name is Inya and I am here to help you if you want it. Do you want help?”
I pulled at my fingers, turned my feet inward, and bit on my bottom lip.
"I don’t want to be judged or criticized.”
“I have never been in the business of criticism. In this office is a no judging zone peep the sign on the door.”
The words in big, bold letters with a line through it.
“Okay,”
“What do you expect out of counseling?”
“Healing, to stop using drugs, and not cutting myself.”
She sat on the wrong, cross her legs, and put the cup of tea on the coaster. She puts a notepad in front of her. She was eccentric, a person I would love to draw, her office gave me inspiration to create, a sense of calm and tranquility.
“I chose you to be my client. My sister was your nurse and begged me to take you on. I am booked with clients. So in order to stay as my client I ask for complete honesty not just for me but for yourself. One lie and I drop you as a client. Secondly, you have to want the help it makes no sense to waste our time and you are not ready. Lastly, I want you to paint a portrait of my daughter and it is how you will pay me.”
“I can do that.”
“Are you on drugs now?”
“No.”
“Your choice of drugs?”
“Cocaine and cutting.”
“Both are addicting.”
“First time you started cutting yourself?”
“Fourteen.”
“First time sniffing coke?”
“18.”
“Who is the most important person in your life?”
“Jensen.”
“The handsome gentlemen who came with you.”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
She wrote notes on her pad, and looked up at me. I finished the tea, and shifted in the bean bag.
“What do you want, really?
“I want freedom from all my wrong doings, and I don’t think I can get it or ever be forgiven.”
“Have you forgiven yourself?”
“No. I’m a bad person. I’ve lied. I slept with a married man. My mother told me I’m always messing things up.”
“You look around and you see the degrees, the accolades, and what do you think my story is about my life.”
Everything was in order, mounds of books, awards for community leadership, volunteer, and pictures with celebrities. dreads wrapped in a silk scarf,her toes painted see green, and in White wedges, and a gold locket.
“You grew up privileged, two parent home, straight from high school to college, husband, beautiful daughter, fancy home and car.”
She chuckled, clapped her hands, and uncrossed her legs.
“Truth. I am woman who once smoked Sherm and crack from the age eighteen to thirty, born and raised in the projects in Watts. Married a drug dealer, had a beautiful daughter, one night after a crack binge I fell asleep, and some man came in looking for my ex decided to murder my nine year old daughter while I slept. My reality check on life was I was a bad mother strung out , a bid in the psych ward after several attempts trying to take my life. I got clean, went to college, dedicated my life to helping others save their lives because I owe my daughter that much.”
She wiped the corner of her eyes with the tips of her thumbs. I was at a lost for words, the large lump in my throat. I looked over at her daughter a splitting image of her mother.
“Inya, do you wish you could have done things differently?”
“Regret is an ugly disease and I do. I forgave myself because I carry in my heart my daughter in heaven forgives me. My life is beautiful, I found God, I found love, and I don’t get high, I help others stay clean.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry for my mistakes. Just repair what is ailing you. We all become sick and in need of healing. Are you coming back next week?”
“Yes.”
“You are not a typical counselor.”
“Nope, not at all but I am damn good at what I do.”
“Next friday at 1pm.”
She takes the tea cup from me, hands me a picture of her daughter, and shakes my hand.
When I come into the lobby Jensen is sitting music blaring from his headphones, his head bobbed up and down. He has dark shades, his cap turned to the side, and all I can do is smile.
“I thought you were done with me.”
“Don’t start your shit. I’m here and that what’s matter. Are you ready?”
He winked and touched my cheek
“Yes, where did you go?”
He put the headphones around his neck, and opened the door for me.
“Took a ride, did some exploring of the neighborhood. Came back and the receptionist told me you were in the back with your therapist. So I hung around and waited for you.”
“Thank you for convincing me to stay she is cool so far.”
“ It’s all good I want to check out the beach, so I packed a lunch, a few blankets, and I never been to a beach in my entire life so.”
“Never.”
“Nope.”
“Wow, Charlotte Beach was the spot I would hang out every summer, draw, and just mellow out.”
“Let’s go.”