When I entered the reception area, I was surprised to find Maya standing next to Tyrone. She was wearing a white tennis skirt with a matching polo shirt with the RHS logo on it.
“Hi, Dr. Martínez,” Maya said, releasing Tyrone’s hand as we embraced.
“You’re looking very sporty today,” I commented, watching Maya’s face break into a big smile. “How are you, Maya?”
“Terrific! I gave Tyrone a ride, and I wanted to say hi before I hurry back for practice. We’re in the playoffs.”
“Congratulations. By the way, I had the nicest conversation with your mom the other night.”
Wrinkling up her pudgy nose, Maya said, “Oh. She had to cancel her classes today. She has a real bad cold. I better get going. See you later.” Before she rushed out the door, Maya paused to give an embarrassed Tyrone a kiss on the cheek.
“Is Miss Maya always in that much of a hurry?” I asked Tyrone as we walked into my office.
“Yeah, sort of,” Tyrone answered, picking out a comfortable spot on the couch.
“Then she’s just like her mom,” I said, watching Tyrone rest his hands comfortably at his side.
“I wanted to talk with you about a new mentoring program for underrepresented youth that was recently implemented at Laguna University. When I mentioned to Maya’s mother that you were interested in social work, she offered to talk to one of her colleagues about your participation in the mentoring program.”
“That’s cool. Thanks, Dr. Martínez.”
“Have you talked with your counselor, Mr. Grinde, about switching to social work?”
“Not yet, but I’m going to real soon.”
“Good, because the time to apply is right now. How are things going at school?”
Tyrone sighed. “All right, I guess. Better in a way.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m almost caught up in my classes. And there’s been a couple of times I wanted to take my frustrations out on Jonathan, but I didn’t. I don’t want to risk getting suspended again.”
“I’m very pleased to hear that, Tyrone.”
There was a slight pause in our conversation as Tyrone began to nervously tap his long slender fingers on the side of the couch. “My dad’s home,” he finally said. “He has this new job he’s all excited about.”
“And what about you, Tyrone, are you excited for him?”
Tyrone grew pensive. “I don’t know what to think, Dr. Martínez. The other night Dad apologized. There were even tears in his eyes. Then he talked about being an alcoholic.”
“How did that make you feel?” I gently pried.
Shuffling his feet in front of him, Tyrone thought about my question. After a few moments, he raised his head and stared at me intensely. “I’m not sure. I’m still angry at Dad for leaving us, but maybe he’s changing. He told me he went to some place to dry out and that he’s real involved with that AA stuff. He even invited me to a meeting.”
“That’s nice. It sounds like your dad is making some positive life changes.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can trust him yet,” Tyrone said, his anguished eyes on me again. “Momma seems to think she can trust him, so do Jerome and Zakiya, but I’m not sure yet.”
“Be patient. It takes time to heal and to trust again.” I thought of my own father, the endless years of trusting and hoping, only to be deceived. I prayed it wouldn’t be like that for Tyrone.
Tyrone’s voice called me back to his side. “Do you really think he’ll change?”
“Yes, I do,” I repeated despite my own nagging fears and the fact that I had fled from my father’s side, refusing to give him another chance.
All of a sudden, Tyrone leaned forward, his voice thick with emotion. “Willie’s dad died.”
“Who’s Willie?” I asked, noticing the sad expression on his face.
“He goes to the Teen Center. He’s trying to get his G.E.D.” Pausing for a moment, Tyrone went on to describe Willie’s behavior at the Teen Center the day after the tragic accident that had killed his dad. Then, his voice barely audible, Tyrone muttered, “Willie always said his dad stuck by him, even when he was on drugs.”
“I’m very sorry. Willie must be very hurt, losing his father that way.”
Tyrone closed his eyes momentarily, and when he opened them, he whispered, “Maybe it’s okay that Dad came back. Like Ray said, everyone deserves another chance.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” I said, reaching out to pat him on the arm. Tyrone nodded, and as he rose to his feet, I complimented him on his newfound maturity.
As I prepared to leave my office, stuffing some paperwork into my briefcase, I reflected on all the young people I’d helped to empower over the years. On days like today, I felt truly confident and successful, knowing I’d made the right choice in becoming a psychologist.