“To be honest, I’m only here because Sabrina is trying to make this a requirement of my daughters spending the Thanksgiving holiday with me and Kimberly,” Ron said.
“That’s not true,” Sabrina said. “I just mentioned that I’d feel more comfortable if we did this.”
“If I have to be here, your husband should have to come,” Kimberly said. “Maybe we need to reschedule until Frank can find some courage to sit in a room with Ron.”
Sabrina narrowed her eyes at Kimberly. “This isn’t about courage. Ron threatened his life and has yet to acknowledge that or apologize for it. He doesn’t have to sit across the room from someone who threatened him.”
Dr. Washington scribbled furiously on her little pad, while Ron tapped his foot on the floor. Kimberly rubbed the small of his back to show her support of him, but she would have to be careful not to let Sabrina create a negative narrative about Ron.
Dr. Washington looked up from her notes and smiled at Ron. “Ron, do you want to respond to what Sabrina said?”
“I did threaten him, and I don’t apologize or take it back,” Ron said.
“Please elaborate,” Dr. Washington said.
“I promised Frank that if he laid a hand on either one of my daughters that I would make him regret it. And yes, I promised physical violence.”
“Many people would say that is a reasonable expectation of a father in response to any violence against his young daughters,” Dr. Washington said.
“Except that he had no reason to threaten Frank. Frank would never harm Carly or Kayla. He wouldn’t like it if I threatened Kimberly.”
Kimberly’s nostrils flared at the amount of stank and emphasis that Sabrina put on her name. She said it with such disdain, Kimberly felt attacked.
“You could threaten me if you like,” Kimberly said. “I wouldn’t be much concerned about it. It definitely wouldn’t stop me from showing up somewhere.”
Sabrina rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean, Dr. Washington. Of course, she isn’t afraid of me. That’s not the point.”
“What does that mean?” Dr. Washington asked. “If you threatened Kimberly, it would be exactly the same as Ron threatening Frank.”
Sabrina laughed. “Okay. I see what we’re doing here. We’re going to ignore the obvious.”
“Please share,” Dr. Washington said.
“You’re trying to make me sound like a racist, and I’m not falling for it. Ron threatened to hurt my husband, for no reason, and that’s what we need to deal with.”
“The threat was only if he did something to my children. If he has good intentions, he has absolutely nothing to be afraid of,” Ron said. “She acts like there are not men in this world who prey on women with young children.”
“And you still don’t trust him?” Sabrina asked. “What does he have to do to not have a threat hovering over his head?”
“Listen. I have no issues with Frank. The girls seem to love him, and he hasn’t done anything wrong that I know of. All he has to do is keep his hands off my daughters. I didn’t have a choice in where they live, because you made the court think we had domestic violence issues.”
“Dr. Washington, would a non-violent person threaten a person with violence?” Sabrina asked.
“That’s not a fair way to ask that question, Sabrina. I would venture a guess that you are also capable of violence when it comes to your children. If someone hurt or attacked them, would you not spring into action?”
Sabrina sighed. “Ron only threatened Frank because he was angry that I was getting remarried. He begged me to stay with him, and when I refused, he got angry and violent. Whether he wants to admit it or not.”
“But you haven’t sought out family counseling until now,” Kimberly said. “Interesting timing seeing that now Ron is getting remarried.”
“Well, Ron made himself comfortable by threatening Frank. That is not how I operate. This is the way I obtain a comfort level with you.”
“Can we stop with the, ‘Ron is violent’ narrative,” Ron said. “You keep trying to make that point and no one is on board with it.”
Sabrina fumed and glared at Ron. She seemed determined to make him a villain in front of the therapist. And for what reason?
“Why do you want to make that point so badly?” Kimberly asked. “Do you think you’ll convince me not to marry Ron? Is that what you want to happen?”
Sabrina scoffed. “I don’t care who he marries. I just care about my children.”
“But you said you were overwhelmed by our engagement party. Because you saw many of the people who were at your wedding,” Kimberly said. “So maybe you don’t care about who he marries, but it does bother you that he’s marrying.”
Dr. Washington seemed intrigued by this. “Let’s pull that thread, Sabrina,” she said. “We need to get to the root of your discomfort. There doesn’t seem to be a threat to your children from Ron or Kimberly.”
“We don’t know that,” Sabrina said. “I don’t think Kimberly likes me because I’m a white woman.”
“Where is this coming from?” Ron asked. “Just a few months ago, you were fine with Kimberly combing Carly and Kayla’s hair. Kimberly even made you a video so that you could stop ripping their hair out when you comb it.”
“Yes. She assumed that I didn’t know how to do their hair because I’m white.”
“No,” Kimberly said. “The girls told me you hurt them when you comb their hair. I was only trying to help. Dr. Washington, I have a company that makes products for natural hair, and we used my products on their hair.”
“And you thanked her for the video and said you wanted Kimberly to teach all your friends with biracial children,” Ron said. “All of a sudden when I tell you we’re getting married and that we want the girls in the wedding, you started to act insane.”
Sabrina took in a deep breath and exhaled. She seemed frustrated, but Kimberly was glad that she and Ron had tag teamed her ass. That was exactly what she deserved.
“Sabrina,” Dr. Washington asked. “What do you have to say about that? Are you upset that Ron is getting married?”
Sabrina looked from Dr. Washington, to Ron, to Kimberly and then back at Dr. Washington. She took in another breath and exhaled once more.
“I don’t like that he’s getting remarried, but not for the reasons they think,” Sabrina said.
“Would you like to share?”
“I don’t want my daughters coming second to her. I don’t want her calling the shots about how Ron spends his money. Not when it comes to my daughters.”
“Why do you think I would hurt them ever? I love what Ron loves,” Kimberly said.
“It’s just that . . . you’re not a mother, so you don’t understand what that kind of love feels like,” Sabrina said. “It’s just easier if Ron isn’t married.”
“I’m not supposed to have happiness so you can feel comfortable?” Ron said. “That makes no sense, Sabrina. In fact, it’s somewhat evil.”
Sabrina burst into tears. Kimberly sighed. Here was the primary weapon of the toxic white woman. Tears. No one got up to comfort her, but at least this time she got a tissue. From Dr. Washington.
“Sabrina, when you chose to leave your marriage to Ron, he became free to seek happiness for his life. It may feel frustrating for you, but you don’t have any control on how he chooses to move on,” Dr. Washington said. “And you cannot use your daughters as emotional weapons against him.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” Sabrina sobbed.
“Demanding family counseling when you’ve never wanted it before and bringing up things Ron said when he was at his lowest point is all proof of you trying to maintain control,” Dr. Washington said.
“It feels like you’re just trying to admonish me,” Sabrina said. “What about them?”
“Well, I haven’t heard anything that Kimberly did wrong. Ron, it might be good for you to acknowledge that Frank has been a good stepfather to your children.”
Ron bit his
bottom lip and his nostrils flared. Kimberly could tell he didn’t want to acknowledge or say anything, but he was the one who’d agreed to this counseling.
When Ron didn’t respond, Dr. Washington continued, “Are you really angry at Frank because he slept with your wife? Maybe the threat came from that place of hurt.”
“I can’t trust a man who screws another man’s wife. I don’t know what that man’s capable of,” Ron said.
“See, Dr. Washington, I told you he was just mad that I left him . . .”
“But,” Ron said. “I have to say in the years that they’ve been married, no harm has come to my children.”
Dr. Washington smiled. “That was a start. By the end of the sessions, I think you may be able to acknowledge more, but Sabrina, you need to convince your husband to attend these sessions.”
“I will do my best.”
“Kimberly, do you have anything else to add before we take a break? I want you all to go have refreshments and breathe for a few minutes before we have the rest of our session.”
“I don’t appreciate my lack of giving birth being a part of this conversation. That has nothing to do with anything.”
“I agree, Kimberly,” Dr. Washington said. “We need to make sure that we are all being fair with one another or these sessions will not be successful. The goal is for everyone to feel comfortable with this blended family environment.”
“Dr. Washington, do you have children?” Sabrina asked.
“No, I don’t.”
“Well, then there’s no way you could understand what I meant when I said that. I stand by my words, but I’m sorry that you felt offended by them, Kimberly. I didn’t mean to imply anything about your character. Being a mother is something you can’t understand until you experience it.”
Sabrina didn’t wait for Dr. Washington’s retort. She got up from the couch and walked into the hallway where the snack table was situated. Dr. Washington frowned and shook her head.
“We’re not going to be successful unless we all do the work,” Dr. Washington said. “Please, Kimberly and Ron, go enjoy some of that expensive tea and coffee that my assistant likes to buy.”
Kimberly felt a little lift in her spirit. Although Sabrina had probably chosen Dr. Washington because she thought she’d be a natural ally, Dr. Washington was clearly on the side of things that made sense. While the best outcome of this would be Sabrina dropping all the foolishness, Kimberly would accept Ron having unlimited access to his daughters.
Kimberly decided, even though she didn’t know for sure, that she was going to give Ron’s babies the best Thanksgiving dinner they’d ever had.
Chapter 36
TWILA
I was distracted in my meeting with Dr. Mays. My mind was racing with so many different thoughts. I was still on an oxytocin high from the ridiculous number of orgasms I’d had since DeAndre first touched me. But underneath that high, right on the other side of it, was my growing fury about Alexander Adams living a regular ass life in my neighborhood.
“Tell me what you are thinking,” Dr. Mays said. “You are not here with me.”
“I’m sorry. I’m here. What did you ask?”
“I asked about the young man you were interested in. Have you decided to proceed with that?”
I briefly went back to that night in DeAndre’s theater room. I don’t think I could ever relive that night enough times to make me numb to it. Love and Basketball was going to forever be an aphrodisiac.
“I have decided to proceed. DeAndre is almost too perfect, but I’m proceeding anyway.”
“What do you mean by too perfect?”
“I mean it’s like I wrote everything I wanted in a man down in a diary, somebody stole it, and then delivered DeAndre.”
“Do you not think of this as a gift?”
“A gift? Maybe. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t suspicious of it.”
“I understand caution. You are in a place in your life where caution is required.”
“I am very cautious, I feel, about everything now. And maybe I’m doing too much with that.”
“Twila let me ask you a question. Do you deserve a man like DeAndre?”
I thought about this question. On the surface the response was easy. Of course, I deserved a man like DeAndre. I put my all into every relationship, and it would be a first to have that energy reciprocated. But beneath the surface, was where all of my insecurity lived. Because if you looked at my previous man choices, I might have believed I deserved a man like DeAndre, but I’d never said yes to the ones who were close to being perfect.
“I don’t know how I feel about that,” I responded. “I want to say yes, but the ones I’ve chosen have been projects. Or, the ones who weren’t projects I think I created flaws that needed fixing.”
“I am happy that you have done the work to recognize these things about yourself.”
“Thank you for helping me do that work.”
“But . . .”
“But?”
“I want to say one thing about a gift. A gift is never deserved. It is simply something you accept.”
“I accept then.”
“Wonderful.”
“I am so happy for my . . . for my gift. It just comes at this time when I’m trying to put myself back together. And I . . .”
Why was I crying? Why were there tears falling down my face just trying to get a sentence out?
“What are you feeling? What is causing this emotion?”
“I have discovered that my attacker . . . rapist . . . attends a church near my home with what I believe is his wife and daughter.”
Dr. Mays’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. It wasn’t easy to shock her, probably because as a therapist, she’d probably heard just about everything.
“I imagine that is a problem for you.”
I loved how Dr. Mays never inserted how she felt about a situation, even when I could tell that she felt some kind of way. This wasn’t her session, it was mine, so she always made sure the feelings and reactions that we were talking about were mine.
“It is a problem for me. I refuse to press charges because the details are way too salacious to not end up in the public. But I have to do something. What if he rapes someone else?”
“That is sometimes the case. Especially when the rape is as violent as the one you have described.”
“Correct. It felt like a . . . violation . . . to see him walking into a church. A place where people trust others.”
“You felt violated?”
“Yes, I did. And very angry. That is what the fear is being replaced with. Rage.”
“Neither fear nor rage are healthy for an extended amount of time. Sometimes positive change comes from channeling either or both of those emotions.”
“I’d like to channel both of them.”
“I would advise you to exercise the caution that comes naturally to you. Trust your instincts, and before taking any actions, consider the consequences and the downstream impacts.”
“I will. This is why I haven’t made a move yet.”
I did want to harness both my fear and my rage, but in the case of destroying Alexander Adam’s perfect little life, I would be content to focus simply on the rage.
Chapter 37
HAHNA
Now that Sam was really moving in, I had to make space for him. My custom-built, two-story closet was full, but I was willing to purge some things so that my man could feel welcome. Twila was supposed to be helping, but she was engrossed in something on her tablet.
“What do you think about these shoes?” I asked as I held out a pair of designer pumps I hadn’t worn in years.
Twila didn’t look up from her tablet, so I dropped one of the shoes in her lap. She glared up at me.
“You trying to break my stuff?” she asked.
“No. But you’re not paying any attention to what’s going on up here. You’re supposed to be helping me. Sam is moving in on Saturday.”
Twila sighed
. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m distracted.”
“I see, but by what? Since when were you on Facebook all like that? What are you doing? Looking up all DeAndre’s old girlfriends?”
“No, girl. Why would I do that?”
“The way you said he put it down, I thought you got dickma-tized or something.”
“No, not yet. Not looking up DeAndre’s page or his exes.”
Okay, I know good and damn well that was funny. So, why wasn’t this heffa laughing? She didn’t chuckle, or even crack a smile.
“Damn, heffa. Why you so dry?”
Twila patted the floor next to her. “Come look.”
I sat down next to her and squinted as I looked at the screen.
“What is this?” I asked. “An online church service?”
Twila took the earbuds out of the side of the tablet so that the sound would play on speaker. It was some sort of church session. Not a sermon, but a fireside chat with a pastor I recognized.
“Oh, I know this pastor. He’s got a prison ministry that’s doing good work in Georgia.”
“Shhh,” Twila said. “Listen.”
The pastor was speaking. “Tonight, we’re highlighting this amazing couple who have just become powerhouses for Jesus. We are blessed to have them in our ranks. Brother Alexander Adams and his beautiful wife Fatima have done an outstanding job in our homeless ministry, and I will let them tell you about a holiday fundraiser to help our adopted families at the Rebekah Women’s Home.”
“Thank you, Pastor Wright,” the man on the screen said. “We are excited to share what we’re doing for the kingdom.”
Twila balled her fists and cried out. Then shoved the tablet across the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
Then it dawned on me. The man who’d raped her was white, and she had his identity. And, she’d followed him to church.
“Was that him?”
She wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her body. She nodded.
“That’s that mother fucker.”
“Give me your earbuds.”
Twila handed them to me, and I retrieved the tablet. I listened to the rapist describe all the services they had for homeless women. It was crazy how many church folks had secret lives. No one would know he was a rapist by looking at him.
All the Things I Meant to Tell You Page 23
