In the backseat of my best friend's Infiniti FX45, I sat with my arms folded firmly across my chest. My heart was pounding against my arms. Strong and heavy.
Thump…thump…thump
Each beat filled me up with a swelling anger which sustained in the pit of my stomach. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as a preventative from having another violent outburst. Sort of like the one I previously had before they got me into the car. As I replayed the entire scene in my head it took every ounce of me not to scream. My inner mouth was raw and throbbing from me continuously digging my teeth into its flesh. But it was all I could do at the moment to remain calm…if one could even identify what I was feeling as calm. As we continued to ride in silence, questions flooded my brain. What kinds of friends ambush you in your home and throw you into the back of their car? Better yet, what kinds of friends kidnap you without even a hint to your destination? Sometimes I wonder what I did to deserve such friends. I rested my body against the car door and gazed out the window. Leaving my inner mouth alone, I moved on to chewing my bottom lip instead. My eyes diverted to the car door handle and the unthinkable crossed my mind.
Tuck and roll.
Part of me was half joking with the thought but the other the half was meditated. Serious. I glanced up to the front side of the car where they both sat. Eyes fixed ahead on the road: the driver and her accomplice. Being as quiet as possible, I tried the door by pulling the handle.
Damn!
Child's lock.
I looked back up at them. Both were sharing knowing smirks. That's what I get for having friends that knew me well. In this moment it was a little too well for my liking. They must've figured my crazy ass would even consider trying to hop out of a moving vehicle and into oncoming traffic. Hell, I'd do anything to not be HERE right now—wherever herewas.
We came to a red light and the car halted. Kelly glanced up at the rear view mirror and her worrisome eyes met my cold glare. She sighed and turned around completely to face me. Her eyebrows scrunched together and her mouth twitched, itching to find something to say. Her eyes scanned over my face. Mine did the same with hers. Both of us were trying to read each other but with different motives. I wanted answers. She only had questions. Her lips finally parted, but it seemed like she still couldn't find appropriate enough words to form those questions; or at least not on time. Michelle tapped Kelly's shoulder indicating that the light had changed. She sighed again, turned around, and continued to drive to God knows where. I felt like I was left out of an inside joke. I was still trying to figure it out. I felt uneasy and the nerves were settling in.
Where are they taking me?!
The car slowed down as we made a right turn on Duncan St. and pulled up to some big office building. "New Beginnings: Your Bridge to a Brighter Future!" I softly mumbled under my breath. "You have got to be kidding me." I huffed and slouched even further into my seat. Kelly and Michelle exited the car and walked over to my side. Kelly reached for the handle and I quickly locked my door. With her car keys she unlocked the door only for me to re-lock it. She gave me the face all while continuing to entertain my childish antics. We went back and forth, locking and unlocking the door. Finally Michelle intervened holding the handle in preparation. When Kelly hit the button to unlock the car once more, Michelle whipped the door open so fast I thought she would have ripped it off the hinges.
"Come on Bey." Kelly pleaded.
I shook my head in protest while looking straight ahead. Through my peripheral I could see her staring at me with an annoyed expression.
"It's for your own good." Michelle added.
I crossed my arms tighter digging my nails into my forearms, creating mini crescent moons in my skin. "I don't need to be here." I spat at them.
"Yes you do." They replied in unison.
I remained seated.
"That's it!" Michelle said, her patience now gone. She gripped my arms and dragged me out. I tried to break out of her grasps, but this girl sure enough can put up a fight despite her frail appearance.
"I don't want to be here." I whined taking the childish approach again.
"I think it's best for you Beyoncé." Kelly insisted.
Michelle stopped tugging and gave my hand a soft squeeze.
"Beyoncé, you need help...and that's what we're here to give you." She admitted.
"That's right Bey. You know ever since…" Kelly began at first but then pursed her lips. She looked at me and then to her Michael Antonio- clad feet. "Ever since Shawn..."
I held my hand up keeping her from finishing her sentence. She knew that topic was off limits.
"Kelly please." I whispered in a choked-up tone, fighting back tears.
Every time I heard his name my heart would stop for a split-second. And after my heart re-gained it pace, each new beat would leave an aching pain that resonated in my body.
"No Beyoncé. I'm not gonna dance around your feelings anymore."
I was taken aback by her sudden and blunt response. I could see the frustration in both of them. We stood there looking at each other, though my vision of her became blurry.
These damn tears.
These same tears.
These old tears.
Kelly saw my hurt and normally she would say, it's ok Bey, and the subject would subsequently change. He wouldn't be brought up again. However, this time it was clear that the past avoidances took its toll her patience. The tension caused by her stern expression: wrinkled forehead, thinned lips, and non-adverted eyes, was so thick it was crushing against the sidewalk.
"Shawn is dead ok! He can't come back and it's time you moved on both mentally and emotionally." She harshly stated.
My mouth slightly fell open as her words pierced through me like a dagger. I was speechless. I clenched my teeth as I soaked it all in. My lips trembled from the emotional war that was going on inside me. How could she say that? Every part of me wanted to fight her. Choke, slap, punch, and kick her for what she said; but I couldn't. Deep down I knew she was right. It has been a long time. I did need to move on. But how could I? Shawn was my heart. And when your heart dies…
I hung my head low finally allowing the tears to triumphantly roll down my face. My emotions once again got the better of me. I turned my back on them until I felt Kelly pull me into a loving embrace.
"Beyoncé, I'm sorry. It's just...I'm worried about you. We both are. You haven't been the same since then." She replied softly rubbing her hands up and down the length of my arms. "I mean you never come out with us anymore. You're always staying home sleeping your life away, you're constantly crying and...and you…" her voice trailed off. "even tried to kill yourself!" She finished before lifting my head up to wipe away one of my tears.
I shook my head from out of her consoling hands and looked at the ground. I remember that day. It was my darkest and lowest point. I shuddered, immediately remembering the cold chill of life leaving my body and instinctually I held onto my arms for warmth. Kelly went back to stroking my arms as if she knew exactly what part of that memory I was reliving.
"Now as your friends we're concerned about your health" She looked over at Michelle who nodded with her own arms wrapped around herself. She smiled weakly before finishing Kelly's sentence.
"And we think…" she shook her head before correcting herself. "we know you're suffering with depression." She confessed now standing next to me with her hand rested on my shoulder. I looked at their faces and saw their concern in me, but I still felt that there was no need for this. That being here was unnecessary.
"We think counseling therapy would help." Kelly concluded, complete with a soft squeeze at my wrists.
"It'll do you some good." Michelle added in her two cents.
They both took me by each hand and led me towards the building. Upon approaching, I was able to catch my reflection in the building's tall glass doors. I stared at myself. My reflection stared back. She looked frightened. She looked trapped. I stopped dead in my tracks right before we hit the doors. I swear it felt like she was telling me to turn around and head home.
They tugged on my hands. "Come on!" Michelle coached.
"No no please. I promise I'll go out more often with you guys" I said trying to bargain. "Just please…don't make me go." I begged looking at that pitiful reflection of myself on the other side of that building.
"Beyoncé we are not sending you to a slaughter house. It's just therapy!" Kelly said.
I personally didn't see the difference between the two. She gave me another good tug, enough to cause me to budge. A few more tugs later we entered the place, with me fighting the entire way, and walked straight to the front desk. The secretary looked up with her headset on like a headband over her blond tresses and flashed a plastic smile.
"Good afternoon ladies. My name is Stacy. Welcome to New Beginnings. How can I be of assistance?" She recited in a much rehearsed kind of way.
I rehashed a half-hearted smile but kept my mouth shut and stared at the rug. Kelly spoke on my behalf.
"Yes we're here to see Dr. Union." She replied.
The woman nodded.
"Of course, do you have an appointment with Dr. Union?" Stacy asked.
"Yes. She does." Kelly replied pointing in my direction.
I crossed my arms and rested my weight on my right leg. Stacy grabbed her computer mouse and scrolled down her computer screen. She quickly glanced over at the digital clock on her desk and then back to the screen. She nodded her head before CLICKING the mouse.
"Ok I see a Ms. Knowles at 3:15pm correct?" Stacy asked without looking up. I remained silent. Kelly sighed and Michelle rolled her eyes.
"Yes. Correct." Michelle answered while giving me the side eye.
"Ok great! I'll inform Dr.Union of your arrival. If you would please have a seat over there in the waiting area, I will call you back over momentarily." Stacy replied pointing to the right.
"Thank you." I managed to mumble before we left her desk. The three of us took a seat in the black, manor-styled leather chairs. I crossed my legs and sighed. "I don't need to be here." I said to no one in particular.
"Beyoncé don't START." Kelly replied sternly.
She almost sounded like my damn mother. I threw my arms up in the air and let them crash down, slapping my thighs.
"I just don't see the point guys. Besides, therapy's for crazy white people." I whispered the end of my sentence.
Michelle covered her mouth and lightly chuckled.
"You know she does kinda have a point." She admitted.
Kelly rolled her eyes, pretending not to be stifling her own chuckle.
"Beyoncé that is so racist and stereotypical." She whispered back trying not to draw any more attention to us than there already was.
"Well damnit look around." I replied jerking my eyes back and forth.
They followed my gaze and looked around the room. Sure enough, we were the only Negros in there.
"You know my momma always said, white people go to therapy, and black folks go to church!" Michelle mused.
We all couldn't help but laugh silently. It's something we've all heard at some point and you have to admit that there was some truth. No matter how hard you want to deny it. We attracted some glances from the others sitting in the waiting room and I pursed my lips together to swallow the laughter.
Laughter.
I just realized that this was the first time I laughed in almost a year. And it was evident that I wasn't the only one that caught the major event either.
"Oh my goodness Bey! That's the first time I seen you laugh in a long time. See this place is already helping." Kelly replied enthusiastically.
My laughter however died down as the seriousness began to soak in again. Feelings of grief swept through me once more and I went back to my sullen disposition.
"I miss this Beyoncé." Michelle confessed slightly poking me in the side.
"Be...Bay...Bay-awn-see? Be-once? Bay-once Knowles?" The secretary struggled, butchering my first name.
I rolled my eyes and sighed as I stood to my feet. These were the times where I wish my mother gave me a simple name. Like Pam or something. I looked back at Kelly and Michelle and pouted. They both motioned for me to go ahead, giving me a thumbs-up. I dawdled on my way towards her desk, dragging my feet against the olive green carpet.
"Yes?" I replied not even bothering to correct her.
"Dr.Union will see you now. Her office is on the third floor, down the hall, last door to your left."
I flashed a weak smile and thanked her before heading towards the elevator. I pressed the button and the elevator doors immediately opened. I stepped inside and rested my weak body against the wall. My nerves began to rise, imitating that of the elevator. With each ascending floor my desire not to be there had also increased. The little 3 lit up and the elevator doors opened up again. I took a second to catch my breath before exiting. I walked down the hallway, coming to the last door on my left just like the robot said. 'Dr. Gabrielle Union' was what the door read on a gold plaque with black, bold letters. I was hesitant about knocking. I began to reason with myself, weighing different options. I could just hide out in the bathroom for the entire hour and acted like I went. I liked that option so far. They wouldn't even know. But I knew I couldn't do that. Money was spent on this session. Truly my friends cared enough about my well being to shell out $125/session. After a few minutes or so I gathered up enough courage to at least knock. Lightly.
"Come in."
I heard a woman project through the door. I turned the knob and slowly pushed the door open where a chocolate-complexioned black female sat behind a dark mahogany wooden desk. She looked up at me and then smiled.
"Please, have a seat." She replied pointing towards one of the chairs placed in front of desk.
I took a second to inspect her office first. In here were 2 chocolate-colored collage-styled chairs strategically matching her desk, to the left of the huge office was a beautiful creamed-colored, Victorian chaise accompanied by a brown leather ottoman where a little side table also stood creating a smaller area within the room. Behind her was a ceiling-to-floor wall of glass with the perfect view of the city. The floor was covered wall to wall with beige carpeting and the walls were designed with gorgeous paintings from Victor Vasarely, Yvonne D'Acosta, and Jean Michael Basquiat—he was one of my personal favorites. Tapestries and other art works like sculptures could be also found sprinkled all around. I had to admit her office was fly. It was warm. It was definitely not what I expected. I took my seat after taking in the scenes and folded my hands in my lap.
"Beyoncé Knowles right?"
I nodded my head in surprise.
"At least someone gets it right." I softly mumbled to myself as the secretary popped in mind.
Dr.Union lightly chuckled.
"I assume many people mispronounce it huh?"
I nodded again.
"Yep, you're the only one outside the family that got it right the first time." I admitted.
"Well it's not that farfetched. Beyoncé is a French name right?" She asked somewhat in a statement rather than a question.
"Yes." I answered slightly impressed.
She nodded and took a second to just stare at me which made me feel uncomfortable.
"You're of Creole descent aren't you?" She asked looking even more intently at me.
"Ok now you're really STARTING to scare me." I replied.
I didn't think psychologists where also psychics. What was she gonna do next? Read my mind? Tell me my future? She chuckled and shook her head like she heard all of my mental questions.
"Don't be, just making simple observations. I mean you have both Black and European features and a French name." She threw her arms up in defense. "I'm just piecing two and two together. Don't worry I don't have any freaky magic powers" She concluded.
So she says. There was a slight gap in the conversation which was filled by silence. It felt like a solid minute blew pass before anyone spoke again and sure enough that anyone wasn't me.
"Ok. So Beyoncé tell me..."
"Look before we even START let me just say that this is a waste of your and my time. I don't have a problem." I interjected.
"Mmmhmm...interesting." She replied before reaching for a notepad and pen.
"Mmmhmm?" I repeated. "Wait what are you writing?" I asked already putting my defenses up.
She smiled and shook her head before answering.
"By you saying that right there lets me know that you do in fact have a problem."
I cocked my eyebrow.
"And how do you figure?" I asked crossing my legs.
She softly chuckled while putting down her pen. I was already starting to dislike this lady.
"Because 'I don't have a problem' is the number one statement made by a person who needs the most help but is too stubborn to seek it for themselves." She further explained.
I sat upright prepared to go to a verbal battle.
"Well for your information I don't need help, and if I did I most certainly wouldn't be finding it here. Therapy is nothing but a bunch of buttery bullshit if you ask me." I spat coldly, rolling my eyes for more effect.
"Oh really? How so?" She asked rising up from her seat and graciously taking a new one on the edge of her desk. She was now directly in front of me. I hope she didn't think I felt threatened or intimidated in any sort because believe me...I wasn't.
"Well how is sitting in some fancy office, listening to people spill their souls out, saying 'and how does that make you feel?' and giving obvious, common sense advice helpful?" I asked putting on my best "therapist'' voice."In my books it's just an easy paycheck." I finalized sitting back against the chair.
She cleared her throat before coming up with a rebuttal.
"Well you obviously misunderstand the purpose of what I do. I don't just sit here and ask 'and how does that make you feel?" She replied imitating my sarcasm. "and if the advice was so obvious then why are you here?" She asked with a raised brow. "Clearly it is not as obvious as you claim because here you are…in my office."
I looked at her and bit my bottom lip. I wanted to cuss her out but I had to remind myself that this all was paid for from my friends and they would never forgive me for wasting their funds. After all, they had shelled out $1500 for these 12 sessions which was enough of an incentive for me to not get kicked out of this woman's office. I focused my gaze at one of her paintings. I had nothing to say.
"Look Beyoncé I am here to help you whether you believe me or not. I'm here for any psychological and emotional problems you may be suffering with. I don't want you to just think of me as your therapist, but as a potential friend as well." She replied in genuine tone in an attempt to smooth things over.
I nodded and smiled. Looking back at her and seeing that she was being honest and sincere, which warranted an apology on my end.
"Ok. I'm sorry it's just...crazy." I shook my head at my lack of better words. "I mean it's really scary sharing your fears, emotions and inner thoughts with a total stranger only for them to take notes and analyze you." I admitted as the tough facade I was trying to portray faded.
She stretched forward and rubbed my hand.
"And I don't expect you to share everything with me so suddenly either. That's not how therapy works Beyoncé. If it did, I'd be poor." She mused. "I'm not here to judge you, just to help bring you to a new beginning." She added.
I softly giggled to myself and shook my head.
"Yeah I caught that little catch phrase out front." I said recalling the proud and bold banner that draped along the front of the building.
She smiled and laughed as well.
"Yeah...well I'm required to sneak in that shit so I can get my check."
We both shared another laugh and I loosened up a little more. The uncomfortable tension in the atmosphere melted away. I guess she isn't as bad as I was trying to force myself to believe her to be. She was just another sistah doing her thing.
"So now that the ice is broken, shall we start?" She asked taking her original seat behind the desk.
"Sure." I answered.
"Great! So tell me about yourself." She requested.
"You mean besides all the facts you found about me already?" I sarcastically asked.
She smile and nodded. "Yes."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Like what?" I asked.
"Well you can start with something small, like your favorite color, movies, books, your interests. Things like that." She suggested.
"Umm well...my favorite color is gold; I love all types of movies and love mystery and romance novels." I replied.
"Mmmhmm." She hummed as she scribbled little notes.
I watched as words began to appear on her notepad. I had to admit that made me uncomfortable having her already taking notes on my life. However I tried not to show it because that would only lead into a completely different therapy session for which I had no patience or money. She looked up and I smiled as I thought of what else to say.
"I...uh also love art." I added.
"Really? Me too. Do you collect also?" She asked in enthusiasm.
I smiled and nodded.
"Yeah I collect...and also paint and sculpt my own art." I slightly boasted.
Her eyebrows rose in astonishment.
"You're an artist? Like professionally?" She asked sounding more and more interested.
"Yes. Yes I am. I sell my work as well as artists' works at a gallery my friends and I co-own."
"Wow." She managed to say as she continued to take notes.
"I'm actually really impressed with the collection you've got going on in your office. I love Basquiat." I replied pointing to a particular painting—Stardust.
"Me too." She simply added as we both took a second to admire the painting.
We continued to make small talk about art and whatever other interests we both shared. Slowly we learned more about each other as people, not subjects. She made me feel more at ease than before because she was only scratching at the surface. However I knew eventually we would be getting deeper. We can't discuss art forever. That was the part I was dreading the most. Talking about him. Before I knew it, our hour and a half was up and thus concluded our first session.
"I'll see you again on Wednesday at 2:30 right Beyoncé?" She asked escorting me to the door.
"Sure thing Dr.Union." I answered.
"Please, call me Gabrielle." She replied resting her hand on my shoulder.
"Sure, and you can call me Bey." I added.
She smiled.
"Ok. Have a nice day." Gabrielle concluded.
We shook hands ending my first therapy session.
~~~~
"So how was it? Michelle asked while on our way back to my house.
"It was actually ok." I admitted waiting for Kelly's 'I told you so.'
"See! I told you it wouldn't be bad." She teased.
See I told ya'll. I rolled my eyes and huffed.
"Ok Kelly! You were right." I mumbled as low as possible.
"I'm sorry what?" She giggled milking the moment even further.
I rolled my eyes another time and fanned her off.
"Whatever."
"I love you too boo." She replied blowing me a kiss through the rear view mirror.
The rest of the car ride was silent, leaving my mind to wander. Like any other time my thoughts rested on Shawn. God how I missed him. There hasn't been a single day that has gone by that I haven't thought about him. I so badly wanted to cry but I know no matter how hard I did it couldn't bring him back to me. It's something I'm gonna have to learn in therapy. I have to learn how to let him go and move on. For the sake of my own sanity I need to move on. We finally pulled up to my home and I got out the car after saying goodbye to my ride-or-die girls.
"We love you Bey!!" They both yelled in unison from the car window.
I smiled weakly and waved, blowing them each a kiss.
"I love you guys too."
I proceeded up the front steps and dug around in my purse to find my keys. I opened the door and immediately kicked off my heels. I walked into my living room as I placed my purse on the coffee table and plopped into my couch. I sat there for about 5 minutes just dwelling on this past afternoon. Now as YOUR friends we're concerned about your health and think you're suffering with depression. It'll do you some good. Mmmhmm...interesting, by you saying that right there lets me know that you do in fact have a problem. Their words replayed in my mind as I closed my eyes allowing a lone tear roll down my cheek. I shook my head.
"I don't have a problem." I whispered to myself.
I just can't. I know I've been down for a while but what would you expect a woman to do after she's lost someone she loved as dearly as I love Shawn? He was my everything. I placed my face in the palm of my hands as I thought of every touch, kiss, and moment spent with him. Those were the happiest days of my life. Now that he's gone I have...nothing. I stood to my feet and headed for my studio. I suddenly felt inspired to paint something. It's been a while since I've actually painted anything. All that talk about art during therapy brought me out of my hiatus. I walked into the room and turned on the lights, illuminating all the art work I produced in there over the years. I pulled out a blank canvas from out my materials cabinet placing it on an easel. I grabbed my paint-covered apron from my desk and some oil paints. I set up my workshop and stood there; staring. I slightly tapped the tip of the paintbrush against my lips and continued to stare at the blank canvas. As if I stared long enough it'll tell me what to put on its face. I took a deep calming breath and closed my eyes. Putting myself in my element I let my hands take over. Sounds of the paintbrush swiftly stroking the paper soon filled my ears. Soon seconds turned to minutes which turned to hours as I painted what I was feeling in that moment. I placed the brush down and stood there coming down from the high that I always get when I paint. I hesitantly opened my eyes to see what my heart has drawn and I softly gasped. It was a silhouette of two figures. They were enmeshed almost as one entity. At first glance it would look as if it was a sole object, but on closer inspection it is evident that it was a couple, more specifically a man and a woman. He was holding her close. He felt strong, passionate and loving based on the way he was embracing her. The way their bodies melted together told their story. They were made for each other and only each other. A deep blue, abstract pattern of a starry night sky stood behind them in the background.
That was us. I bit down hard on my lip trying to prevent myself from breaking down. Like every other time I thought of him. The struggle grew harder and I held my head down in defeat with more tears flowing.
"Lord I would give anything...anything just to have him back, just to hold him in my arms again...and to see his face." I softly prayed as tears streamed down my face.
I gently fell to my knees and cried into the palms of my hands. I felt so weak without him. So helpless. I clenched my chest because it was hurting so much. It was way past figurative. It felt as though my heart was physically broken. I fell into a fit of uncontrollable sobs as I curled up into a ball in front of the painting. There was no telling how long I crying on the floor, but eventually I couldn't form any more tears. It didn't stop me from screaming though. Frustrated from my lack real tears, I cried out with my mouth to compensate for my eyes because my heart wasn't done weeping. After what felt like hours, I was all bawled out. I must have drained every ounce of fluid in me because my eyes were now stingy and dry. I squeezed them shut. The air was becoming too much. My throat was sore and my head was pounding. Afraid of getting up, I simply laid there with my hand clasped firmly against my forehead. Although my body was tired, my emotions and thoughts were too frazzled. I listened to the slight hum of the electricity flowing through the light bulbs. I wanted to turn them off but I couldn't move. My muscles felt tense and rigid. I sighed coming to the realization that I wasn't going to sleep anyhow so the lights being on were irrelevant. My eyelids provided enough darkness anyway. I spent the rest of the night listening to that calm humming noise trying not to think of him.
Somewhere down the road I managed to doze off into something similar to sleep—though I likened it more to a state of paralysis. I finally opened my eyes and looked over at the clock. It was almost 6am. I sighed as I slowly pulled myself into a seated position on the floor. My former headache was reduced to a smaller gnawing pain in the middle of my head. I ran my hand over my face and kept them there.
"I do need help." I quietly admitted to myself. Finally.