A Mother's Bond

60

Sarayah November 3, 2016
I looked around my bare room, feeling more than a little lost. Jay and Beyoncé had left less than five minutes ago, and I was already keenly feeling their absence. I hadn't felt that adrift since Beyoncé left me out on the streets...My lips twisted at the thought. On the other hand, maybe I didn't really miss them that much.

A knock on the door startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up to find Jeanine standing in the doorway.

"Hey Sarayah, I know you just got settled in, but they're having group therapy in a few minutes. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to join. Usually, you would have a little time between check in and the group session because check in is at 8:00 am and the meeting is at 11:00 am, but with you checking in late..."

I nodded. "Right. Um–" I looked around the room. I didn't want to go to some uncomfortable group therapy meeting, but I didn't exactly have anything better to do. Plus, I did promise I would try.

"Okay, sure," I agreed. "Why not."

Jeanine started to walk behind my wheelchair, but I stopped her with a wave of my hand. I lowered my arms, letting them fall onto the wheels. When I felt the reassuring rubber, I gripped the sides and rolled myself forward. This was one action I had basically mastered. It was easier than most because my position was almost always the same, so I didn't have to think too hard about where my hands had to go. Still. It was a win in my book.

"Lead the way," I said before following her out into the hall.

The group therapy room wasn't too far from Cynthia's office. I recognized the hallways as we went by. When we got to the right room, Jeanine held the door open for me, allowing me to enter. She quietly shut the door behind me and left, her mission complete.

The inside of the room was almost exactly what I had pictured: a table with refreshments against the far wall and a group of people sitting in a circle in the middle of the room. I sighed deeply. Why had I agreed to any of this?

Cynthia, noticing heads turning in my direction, looked back at me and smiled. "Sarayah. I was wondering if you'd make it. I'm glad you came. Come join us."

Cynthia got up and grabbed the empty chair closest to me, placing it against the wall. She motioned me forward, still smiling. I glanced back at the door, biting my lip. I could still leave. But if I did, what then? Stare at some walls for a few hours? At the very least, this would be a distraction. So, I moved farther into the room, taking my place in the circle a few chairs down from Cynthia.

I scanned the faces among the circle. Yup. This was definitely a rich people rehab. These weren't your average crackheads. You could practically taste the money in the room. The girls all wore makeup. Even when it was smudged, it still managed to look chic. The guys looked like typical douchebags. All sporting slightly different variations of the same stupid looking–

"Sarayah!" Cynthia said a little forcefully, the concerned look on her face an indication that she'd been trying to get my attention for a hot minute.

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Sorry, I didn't catch that."

She smiled, suppressing a chuckle. "I said, why don't you introduce yourself."

I blinked. "You just did. I'm Sarayah."

Cynthia shook her head, still smiling. "That's not introducing yourself. We need more than your name. How about you tell us why you're here. So, start again. Name and why you're here. Go."

Everyone fixed me with an expectant look. I nervously rubbed my palms on my thighs. "Uh. Okay. My name is Sarayah. I'm here because I overdosed."

I was met with a bunch of half-hearted 'hi Sarayah's'. I nodded, ready for the attention to be directed elsewhere.