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“If he stops coming, I won’t need you, Athena,” Cherise advised her with an attitudinal tip of her brow. A curtain of curls bounced around her back. My fingers cramped to touch just one. However, Andre said a black woman’s hair was out of bounds. He would know. I yielded to his superior knowledge on the subject. There was one subject I did know a hell of a lot about; the female’s ability to drain a man’s wallet dry.
The receptionist obviously didn't date women. If she did, she'd know how false her statement of it being cheaper to date was. Somebody should enlighten her. I hoped I was the only one here qualified to do it. Cherise veered toward her office. I made a stand at the side of the reception desk, where I'd conversed with Miss Clark numerous times as she took my copayment after each sitting with the doc. I liked to think we had developed a rapport strong enough to share information.
I was about to find out. "Dating women is not that much cheaper than therapy, Miss. Clark. This is New York, after all, where everything is overpriced for the hell of it. There are too many people willing to pay any price for anything for it to ever be cheap here."
She cackled dryly. "I've only been living in New York for twenty years, so thank you for telling me that, Mr. Graham. I try to learn something new every day."
I’d have said more, but the sensation of eyes drilling into the back of my skull had been invoked. There was only one person who could be behind me. I glanced backward. Sure enough, Cherise had come back. She was no longer smiling and seemed a bit perturbed with me. Figuring Cherise was over my holding up our session, her receptionist was about to get the quickest goodbye known to man.
"Gotta go, Miss Clark." I twirled in the direction of the doc’s domain, where she stood like a menacing, fun-sized guard. "Come along, Dr. Johnston. Time's a-wasting."
"Seriously?" she gasped, closing us in her office fragranced by the flowers from her parents. "I've been waiting for you all day."
I longed for her to mean that in a totally different way as I took my spot on the couch. "Really? Did we have an appointment today? I do apologize for holding up progress if we did."
"Mmmm,” exited her lovely throat condescendingly as she bore down on her desk. The sashay of her hips could drive a man insane and make him see better all at the same time. "Go ahead and keep playing crazy with me, Mr. Graham. You're in the right place for it. I can commit you to another place for the insane, for seventy-two hours if you like."
Oh damn.
"I would not like,” I divulged real fast. “How about I don't be late or tell the receptionist things she needs to know while on your time?"
"Now, you're talking." She peeked back to wink at me.
"You’re kind of mean, you know that?" And I loved it. Something was definitely screwed up with my mental functioning.
Cherise
Calming the thrill that ripped up my spine every time his stormy grays set down on it, I activated the timer on my watch. “I have to be strict with my patients, Mr. Graham. You guys will walk all over me if I’m not. Malaysia doing it to me is bad enough.”
Taking my place in the armchair, I crossed my legs. Mr. Graham suddenly looked away and uneasy, fidgeting in his seat.
That made me uneasy. “You okay, Mr. Graham? Something else we need to talk about before we get started with your high school years?” Getting to know every part of his development into the man he was, was rewarding, and had its setbacks. I was taking on his pain and grief for his brother with no outlet for it due to patient/doctor confidentiality. It tormented me at home as much as being here in his company did. At weird moments, sometimes it was as if he never left me after we were done for the day. During other strange moments throughout our time apart, I swore I felt him close by. So strange.
“Nope, there’s nothing else to talk about, Dr. Johnston. I’m fine. Where did I stop at yesterday?”
I could tell he was lying through his teeth—nobody grew uncomfortable for no reason. “You stopped with the teenager from your class bullying Greg when he was in middle school. Something happened with the prosecution for your brother’s murder?” Bringing up the ongoing case was a wild guess on my end to find out wh
at triggered his remoteness.
Mr. Graham grimaced, refusing to make eye contact again. “Nope. Nothing new there. Killer still in Rikers. I’m good.”
His clipped sentences were a clue to ‘back off,’ so I would for now. “When you feel like talking about whatever it is, I’m here.”
He mumbled, “It’s not something we’ll ever talk about.” My ‘leaving it alone for now’ expired with that statement.
“So, something is wrong?”
He stretched his arms along the back of the chair, setting off panty-wetting muscle play under his long sleeves. “No, nothing’s wrong. It’s just not something we can talk about.”
I didn’t like him holding anything back from me, either. “This is a free, nonjudgmental space, Mr. Graham. Nothing is out of bounds. If it’s a woman that’s causing you to clam up around me, I’m fine with discussing that part of your life too.” I really wasn’t fine with it, but my slowly-growing business would make damn sure I got over it.
He situated one loafer-clad foot on the opposite knee. “Don’t have a woman outside of you in my life. Don’t have the time for others. Nothing to discuss there. Can we talk about Greg now?”
Out of all he said, ‘don’t have a woman outside of you’ stuck with me. My mind replayed it like a broken record. Parts of me tightened and pulsed. Stupid, stupid body was having unprofessional reactions. Now, I was the one squirming.
I had to get my head onto something else. “Alright. let’s pick up where we left off after I ask you this.”
“Nope, didn’t make it to the carnival last night either,” he rebutted before I posed the question. He was never going to water down his pain and grief with joy at this rate.
