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“So you’re giving up on me?”
“Don’t youdare,” she insisted, stepping around the table. “Don’t youdaretry to twist everything I just said to you intothat,” she hissed, walking right up to me. “Youare giving up, not me. And I willnotgive you the satisfaction of twisting my position into something that falls in line with whatyoualready believed about your worthiness,” she said, jabbing a finger at me. “If you’re trying, we’re trying. If you’re healing, we’re healing. But until then? You get the fuck outta my house and donotcome back until you’re ready for that.”
“And if I’m never ready?”
“Don’t come back at all.”
She’d already turned again, heading back to the table where she snatched her glass and then the whole bottle of wine.
Without looking back.
And so… neither did I.
***
“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I asked Isaiah, putting a full stop to our one-on-one game to peer at him from across the court.
“I said… it’s actually not a bad idea,” he repeated, tossing up an unchecked shot I couldn’t even be bothered to guard.
Because…huh?
“Youthink therapy is… not a bad idea?” I asked again, seeking another round of clarification.
He laughed at my bafflement and nodded as he made it back in my direction with his own rebound. “I show up faithfully for my appointment every other month. It was more often at first, but that’s the pace that works for me now. Maintenance.”
I shook my head, still…shook.
“This isn’t making any sense to me.” I looked at him, waiting for him to laugh,somethingto bring this shit back into reality, but he just shrugged.
“It was a sticking point for Dacia, and I wanted to be with her, so… I went to therapy. And it wound up really helping me. You might fuck around and discover the same thing.”
“So you got an ultimatum about it too?”
He thought about it for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, actually. I guess you could say it like that.”
“Nigga, either you did or didn’t.”
He laughed. “Fine. I did. And like I said, I wanted what I wanted, so I did what I had to do to get it. Why are yousoaverse to it?”
I frowned. “Why am I averse to some stranger digging up all the shit I spent half of my mental energy every day tryingnotto think about?”
“I get that,” he said, “but… what if youdidn’thave to spend mental energy on that? What if you… I don’t know,dealt with itinstead?”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“You’re right. ’Cause… I’ve… been to therapy,” he said, cackling as I rolled my eyes.
“This shit ain’t funny, man.”
“You’re right; it’s a shame. You finally have the opportunity for peace—real peace—and you’re going to fuck it over because your woman wants you to… heal. Wow.”
I blew out a sigh. “Why do people keep saying that shit like it’s simple?”
“Because itis,” he countered. “I’m telling you, itis. It’s messy, yes, absolutely. It’s messy as hell. It’s theworst. Truly. But it’s very,verysimple. And if you want any chance of actually moving on from this shit, and living your lifefor real… it’s necessary.”
Necessary.
That shit hung with me.
