Page 15 of What I Needed

“My story? I suppose it would be good if you knew a little more about me, huh?”

“I’m a little late, but yeah.”

I sighed because I didn’t know where to begin.

“Well, the fact that I was working at the Greasy Spoon should let you know how little I had going for me.”

“Wait. Is that what that place is called?”

“Yeah. Real creative, huh?” We shared a laugh before I continued. “I could have probably worked at better restaurants, but it’s not far from my house. There is usually a nice flow of customers, but it’s never too overwhelming, and they are a lot nicer than my boss, so it wasn’t too bad.”

“Your old boss, unless you didn’t quit.”

“I quit a few days ago. Anyway, my parents died in a house fire when I was fifteen, and⁠—”

“Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. It still fucks with me, but it’s been fifteen years, so I don’t get as emotional when I talk about it. One of our extension cords was bad and was plugged into a power strip with too many other things. The only reason I didn’t die with them was because I’d spent the night with one of my friends. I lived with my maternal grandparents from then until they died a little over a year ago, a few months apart.”

“Damn,” he repeated. “You’ve suffered a lot of loss.”

I shrugged. “I have, but it is what it is. I got a small settlement from the fire, and because my grandparents were on a fixed income, a portion of it was paid to them monthly to help cover my expenses. When I turned twenty-one, I got whatever was left. I didn’t touch it until I became my grandparents’ caregiver and couldn’t work.”

“I take it you’re an only child.”

“Yeah. When my dad died, I lost touch with his sister and her kids. My mother’s brother was estranged from the family for most of my life, and the last time I saw or spoke to him was at my grandparents’ funerals. I have one best friend who I met when I started high school, and she’s been a blessing.”

“I’m glad you have her.”

“Me too. You should know, after my parents died, I suffered from bouts of depression that sometimes lasted months. My grandparents had no idea how to handle it, but my school counselor connected me with a therapist.”

“Did it help?” he asked.

“It did, and it still does. I went for over ten years, uninterrupted, and it saved my life, along with my meds. When my grandparents passed, especially because their deaths were so close together, my therapist and best friend were prepared for me to fade into darkness. Thankfully, over the years, I’ve learned how to feel my grief without letting it overwhelm me. I can sit in it without getting lost in it. There are specific things I do every day that help me cope. I try to be very intentional about my mental health, and most of the time, I’m successful. I get sad sometimes, but it’s not crippling, and it doesn’t last long. I see my therapist once a month now, and I’m on a low dosage of meds.”

“I wasn’t expecting to hear all that, but thank you for sharing and trusting me with something so personal.”

“I moved into your house, and I’m taking care of your daughter. It’s only right that I share.”

“How does your man feel about you taking this job and living with me?”

His question took me by surprise, and I didn’t know how to answer it. Jeremiah and I were on-again, off-again. As much as I needed to remove him from my life permanently, he always seemed to creep his way back in. We’d broken up and gotten back together more times than I could count, but the last time was the last time. I was over that nigga.

“Is that your way of asking if I have a man?”

“Maybe.”

“I’m not sure why it matters, but I don’t have a man.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

“When I said I’m intentional about my mental health and successful most of the time . . . Well, my on-again, off-again relationship with my ex is where I failed and probably the main reason I’m still in therapy. We broke up a few months ago, and this is the longest one of our breakups has lasted. I think I finally got him out of my system, and I refuse to let him weasel his way back into my life.”

“Interesting. What are the reasons for the breakups, and why do you keep taking him back?”

“There are plenty of reasons but mostly cheating. I’ve never been able to prove it, so when he comes groveling, I take him back. It’s a vicious cycle, I know, but sometimes I think taking him back is easier than starting over with another man who’ll probably end up doing the same thing. That’s honestly what most of my therapy sessions are about.”

“You have no faith in the male species, huh?”