The Center

Chapter 35 - "you must give it (love) to no one, not even an animal.

For the first time in my visits, the counselor's office becomes a refuge. I hurry in and sit down. Surrounded by eclectic decorations, I try to relax. African statues and paintings and pottery liven the room. A picture of the psychologist in a Safari jeep with three other people leads me to believe she got the art herself. The hand-carved articles match the primitive setting of The Center.

The elephant above the bookshelf is painted on a cloth with a fringed edge. His ears open to frame his full-tusked face. His left front leg bends at the knee. Some days the animal looks ready to charge and other days it seems like he's from a circus where he learned to dance.

Dr. Maggie steps over to a stack of multicolored files on her desk. She pulls out the third one from the top. "Let's get started." She leans back in her chair. Her pen rotates around her fingers like a baton. "How about a little family history?"

I'm comfortable but not that much. The elephant backs away. Serve my time. Deal with baby. Men are lame.

"No answers today either, huh?" Dr. Maggie asks.

I use the tip of my fingernail to dig unseen dirt from under another.

"Will you tell me about what just happened with Mario?"

I want to. I mean, Mario really pissed me off, but the look on Dr. Maggie's face tells me I'd be a rat to discuss inmate to inmate business. "No."

"Okay." Her shrug comes off insincere, like she's pretending not to care. And I wonder if she and Mario have history. With a dozen counselors at The Center, it's not impossible for her to know him. "How about we start with your background." Her curly black hair and brown skin reveals her heritage. White people are harder to dissect. The thought triggers a power button in my brain. A cruel, sarcastic button.

"My great-great-grandfather, Benjamin Harris Manchester, served in Congress. He was a representative from the state of Virginia."

"That's a little further back than I planned."

"He's important because he made our family rich from tobacco farms and real estate." And slaves. I hold my lips closed to make sure the last two words don't slip out. I'm not sure why it suddenly became super important to me to resist my mean impulse. Sacrifice is undervalued. Mario's words. Mario's idea. Stabbing Dr. Maggie with a joke about slavery feels cruel not funny. The revelation is uncomfortable. I want to control this situation. But I suddenly wonder if I have to be mean to do it. Does control equate to power? Does control require cruelty?

"Is being rich important?" She asks.

"Most people think so." I don't tell her the benefits have baggage. I'd give away every penny to have a father who loved me. My right ear didn't itch, but I scratched it anyway.

"Where does this patriarch connect to you?"

"His only son had an only son who had three children, one of whom was my father, Benjamin Edward Manchester the fourth."

"What does he do?" The pen in her hand twirls. Unlike everyone else in The Center, Dr. Maggie isn't using modern electronics. Pen and paper. Her examination feels familiar. Like a test teachers give when they already know all the answers. That explains her demeanor. The yellow folder on her lap isn't empty. The case file—my case file—has pages in it. I cross my legs and lean forward.

"My father works in international business as a consultant."

"Does he travel?"

"At least three weeks per month."

"Wow. That's a lot." Her pen stops dancing around her fingers and she writes in her folder.

Great. My history is spread out before her and still she asks these dumb questions. Does she really believe she can know me so quickly? Fix my family? What a joke.