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“Well, I know one thing for sure. My mother can’t be fixed, she can’t recover, and there is no cure for her crazy ass.”
“Have you even checked on your mother?”
“Why the hell would I do that? Why would I give a flying fuck about someone who never gave a flying fuck about me?”
“Maybe it will give you some kind of closure, if you see her and forgive her.”
“I’m not showing up at that place so that someone can run their mouth to the tabloids about my being there. People are too hard up for cash that relatives of celebrities are selling photos of them on their death beds and in their caskets for six figures.”
Marcella flicked a piece of lint off her lightweight peach sweater. “It was merely a suggestion. At least consider it. As for someone being a whistleblower, we may be able to work around that.”
“I’m not even trying to hear that shit. My mother can kiss my entire black ass. I truly don’t care if she’s alive or dead. Grandma and Hannah are both long gone and she’s still breathing.”
“And how would you know that?” Marcella raised an eyebrow. “You keep a check on her, don’t you?”
I glared at Marcella. I had to hand it to her. She was good at her career.
“It’s not that serious and don’t get things twisted,” I replied. “It’s actually not me. Daddy makes sure that she never has a chance of getting out. It’s about his concern for my welfare, not that bitch’s.”
“From what you’ve told me about your mother, it’s apparent to me that a lot of her issues come from being victimized.”
“And?”
I had told Marcella about the rape and incest during another session and went into further detai
ls about the day Momma slashed up my face, and all the craziness and abuse that led up to it.
“Your issues stem from things that happened to you in your childhood, but you expect people to be tolerant of your issues and your behavior.”
I was heated. “Are you comparing me to that maniac? She is a maniac. You do realize that? She’s violent and she’s dangerous and—”
“Aren’t you violent and dangerous? Intermittent explosive disorder can lead to violent outbursts where you harm yourself or others.”
“Thanks for the update,” I stated vehemently. “I take my meds every damn day. Thank you very much.”
“Good, but psychotherapy is also important. I realize that you’ve had therapists in the past and that Dr. Lamb is still giving you prescriptions, even though she is based in New York. But we need to address the underlying issues.”
“That’s what the fuck we’ve been doing, Marcella. You think I’ve been coming up here because I don’t have anything else to do?”
“No, but I also don’t think that you’re being honest about why you came to Atlanta.”
I stood up and started pacing the floor. “What did Daddy tell you?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “What makes you think Mr. Sterling told me anything?”
“Marcella, honesty is always better than sugarcoated bullshit. What did Daddy tell you?”
Marcella sighed. “He’s worried that you came back here to get some kind of retaliation on people who went to Powers High School with you. And he’s also concerned that you may have a violent outburst, or several of them, in the process. He doesn’t want to see you get into any trouble.”
“I don’t plan on it! But they need to pay and . . .”
I didn’t mean to let that slip!
“Who needs to pay and what for?”
I walked back over to the sofa, but instead of sitting on it, I lay down on it and covered my eyes with my right arm.
“You can talk to me freely,” Marcella said.
