Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131486 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 657(@200wpm)___ 526(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
“Good to see you again, Kassim.” A gentle smile touches his mouth when he looks down at our son.
“Yeah,” Kassim says. “I mean, yes, sir.”
“We’re just gonna get to know each other some today, you and me.” Dr. Cabbot gestures to the door he just walked through. “How’s that sound?”
Kassim’s nod is halting, but he says, “Yeah, okay.”
“I have to go, son,” Josiah says. “We’ll talk tonight, okay?”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Love you, Seem,” I say, hoping I sound like a perfectly normal person when I really just want to hurl myself at Dr. Cabbot and beg him to take care of my boy.
“Love you, Mom.” Kassim walks ahead of Dr. Cabbot and the door closes behind them both.
“Are you okay?” Josiah asks, the first strand of amusement evident in his voice since he arrived.
“Barely.” I sink to the leather sofa and dig around for the gum in my purse so I can safely gnaw my anxiety. “Thanks for coming. I know that meant a lot to him.”
“I knew he’d be nervous, and I wanted him to know I’m living up to my end of the bargain.”
“Though you don’t actually expect to get anything out of it, right?” I ask, glancing up to search his face.
He quirks one thick brow at me. “I’m not saying therapy isn’t beneficial to anyone. I just don’t think it’s for me.”
“Which you’d know based on all those other times you went to therapy. Now remind me how many times that was again.” I touch my chin and pretend to think. “Oh, right. Zero times.”
His full lips twitch at the corners and he rolls his eyes. “I’m doing this for Kassim, but I have no expectations. Let’s talk later to see how his first session went. Gotta go.”
No expectations. That’s not how I felt with my first session. I had high hopes that first therapist could fix me, could dispel the dark cloud hanging over my head every day when I woke up. Not only did she not do any of those things, but in some ways she made me feel worse. I knew the problem couldn’t lie with her when, after six weeks of seeing her, I felt no better, so I had to be the problem. And when another two months with a second therapist didn’t yield any results, it only reinforced the idea that buzzed in my head like a chainsaw.
I would never be fixed.
I’d never feel happy again.
I’d be a burden and an embarrassment to my family and my friends.
That little voice kept whispering things would never get better. I’d divorced the man I always loved because being with him, fighting with him, resenting him hurt too much…and that had not made it better. What a waste. What a failure.
There was nothing wrong with those first two therapists. We just weren’t the right fit. Dr. Abrams was, and it took her a long time to help me silence that voice, to turn off that chainsaw cutting me up inside, but when I was able to, what a relief. And that’s what I want for Kassim. The assurance that his fears are “normal.” That he’s okay even when he is not all the way okay.
I stare sightlessly at the fish navigating the fabricated watery underworld, my mind swimming with thoughts of Josiah and what this step might mean for him, but mostly wondering how Kassim is doing on the other side of that door with a stranger poking around in his mind and heart.
My phone rings, jarring me from the swirl of my own contemplation.
“Hendrix, hey.” I’m the only one in the waiting room, so I stay seated for the call. “What’s up? Any luck?”
“Oh, yeah, we found the hair. We were gonna do mani-pedis. That okay?”
“Oh, well…sure.” I lick my lips, fingers tightening on the phone. “That sounds like fun.”
“Awesome. And we’re still gonna run by Ruby’s, if that’s all right?”
“Of course. Get that girl some neck bones.” We chuckle together, Hendrix’s usual cackle sounding easy and natural, while mine feels like it’s being strained through a colander. Deja and I used to get our nails done together. We had mommy-daughter days all the time. Now I can’t remember the last time she voluntarily spent time with me.
“Thank you, Hen,” I say, meaning it. “Really.”
“Girl, it ain’t nothing.” Hendrix pauses. “She’s a good kid. I know you two are going through something, but I see you in her so much and you’re doing a great job even if it doesn’t feel like it.”
I close my eyes and let the simple praise wash over me. Let it sink down deep and reach the doubt and guilt that seem to live just beneath the surface.
“Thank you. For everything, Take your time. I’ll see you guys whenever you’re done.”
The door opens and Kassim appears with Dr. Cabbot.
“Hey, Hen. I gotta go. Seem’s out. Love.”