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“You were talking to Alicia aboutwhat?” I interrupted. “About me?”
Tati’s eyes narrowed at me across the table. “Notyouspecifically, but about ...y’all. All of you,RosesandThorns. She was telling me how rough the adjustment can be for you guys. She said it’s been really helpful for everybody she’s brought in to talk to somebody. I think you could probably benefit from the same thing.”
I sat back. “So what, you think I’m crazy or something now?”
“I think you’re struggling,” she said. “You’re here, physically, but ineveryother way, you’re somewhere in outer space.Understandably,” she amended, in this pacifying tone that did theexactopposite. “I’m not trying to upset you; I just want you to be okay.”
I scoffed. “When you were going through your shit behind Kev, you were biting motherfuckers heads off for saying the same shit to you, were you not?”
She raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “Okay… fair point,” she conceded. “But it doesn’t change what I said, and doesn’t change that Ididgo to therapy, actually, and the only reason I haven’t been lately is because of…”
Instead of finishing her statement, she waved her hands all around her.
“Because of me?” I asked and her expression shifted to a glare.
“Really, nigga?”
“Yeah,really,” I huffed.
“No, not because ofyou, because ofeverything,” she clarified.
Unnecessarily.
I knew exactly what she meant, and yet…
“Everything caused by… me?”
“Okay, I see you’re committed to having a misunderstanding, and I’m not in the mood for it, okay?” she said, grabbing her wine glass to refill.
“Then why bring the shit up in the first place? I was good and you wanna bullshit.”
With her glass halfway to her face, she stopped. “I brought it up because I’m trying to help you, and I think you know that.”
“I don’t know shit,” I told her, pushing away from the table.
“You’re playing, right?”
I was already walking away, but stopped to look her in the face as she stood too. “There ain’t shit to play about, Tati. You asked me to try, and here I am, but it’s not good enough, obviously. You want me to… what? Put on a happy face? Laugh more? Turn my frown upside down, some of that bullshit?”
“No!” she snapped. “And it’s really shitty that of all people, you would putthatkinda bullshit on me. I don’t care about you looking okay on the outside; we’reallfucking struggling. But you know what? You told me you would try, and just being here, existing as some hollow shell isnot trying.Tryingis… doing something!”
“Onyourtimeline. Right.”
“No,noton my timeline. If you’re not ready to talk to someone, okay,say that,” she said. “If you want to try something else first, if you wanna smoke and meditate like we did months ago,say that.If you just wanna sit in a dark room and cry,say that,” she insisted. “Whatever it is that’s going to help you navigate, and figure it out, I’ve got your back. But you need to saysomething.”
I wanted to accept that.
I wanted that…so bad.
But what came out of my mouth instead was, “What if I don’t want to? What if I don’t have anything to say? What if I don’tactuallyhave it in me to ‘try’?”
She blinked.
Loud.
I’d never heard—felt—a blink before, but that one… gave a lot.
“If you’re shutting down on me, if you’re going back on your word… you can go,” she said, her voice choking with emotion.
