by Stacy-Deanne
“Let me put it this way, lil’ sis…” Valerie flattened her hands against the keyboard. “What are you up to?”
“I see.” Corrine rocked on her designer high heels. “I gotta always be up to something?”
Valerie started typing. “Is this visit important, or are you just bored in that big ass house in Garden Oaks?”
Corrine leaned over and laughed. “Unlike this big ass house here in Memorial?”
“Look, I don’t have time for this, Corrine.” Valerie took off her reading glasses and gestured to the computer. “Some of us have a real job.”
“A real job?” Corrine balled her fists to quell the rising anger. “I’m so sick of you making jabs about my career. I’m a TV news anchor.” She put her hand on her hip. “I make a difference with my job, as opposed to typing on a computer all day.”
“I’m a computer analyst for several of Houston’s biggest corporations, Corrine.” Valerie snickered when she slipped her glasses on. “Maybe one day I’ll have enough time to explain how my job makes more of a difference than yours. But right now, I’m busy…”
“I don’t know what the hell I was thinking coming here.” Corrine yanked up her purse and headed out the door. “Bye.”
Valerie sipped from her cup of coffee.
“No, hold up.” Corrine stopped and turned around. “I came here because someone needs to talk some sense into your stubborn ass.”
She threw her purse on the couch.
“And that would be you?” Valerie took another bird sip of her coffee and tossed a sarcastic glance at Corrine. “Believe me, I don’t need my baby sister to tell me anything.”
“You need someone to.” Corrine marched to Valerie’s desk. “I know you can’t stand me, Val. I’m not stupid. And I know you know I didn’t come here just to shoot the breeze.”
She shrugged and typed.
“What’s so pathetic is I came here because I actually care about you, even though you hate me.”
“Hold it.” Valerie swung her chair around and faced her. “First off, you can knock off the innocent act. Okay, Corrine? This is me you’re talking to. I didn’t just meet you yesterday.”
Corrine huffed and crossed her arms as Valerie continued, “Second, I could stand you a lot more if you weren’t such a manipulative, conniving little heifer.” Then she swung her chair back around.
“Hey, I admit I’m not a saint,” Corrine said as she uncrossed her arms. “I’ve done my dirt, but I own up to it.”
Valerie chuckled. “Yeah, when your ass gets caught.”
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you and David.”
Valerie faced her again. “Excuse me?”
“You walk around like you’re so damn worldly and intelligent.” Corrine glided back and forth, waving her arms. “You always the first to give others advice about shit, and you are as blind as Stevie Wonder when it comes to your own husband.”
Valerie yanked her glasses off. “How the hell are you gonna call me blind while your dumb ass is sleeping with married men?”
Corrine swallowed the painful comment. “I do not sleep with married men.”
“Oh, so that dude you were fucking for the last three years wasn’t married?” Valerie held her ear as if she needed Corrine to speak louder. “That big time, white, oil man you were dating who kicked your stupid ass to the curb after he got your dumb ass to believe he was leaving his wife…he wasn’t married?”
Corrine shook her balled fists.
“Ah, what’s wrong, lil’ sis?” Valerie snickered. “Hard to face your mistakes when you’re looking at them in the mirror, isn’t it?”
“At least I see mine.” She loosened her hands. “But he was the only married man I ever slept with, and I loved him. You just love bringing up my mistakes.”
“You damn right.” Valerie sipped coffee. “I hope if I do, then maybe you’ll change. But you’re thirty-five now, so it’s safe to say this is just who you are.”
“Seems like if you put more stock into your husband and less on hating me then he wouldn’t be walking around with his face twisted.”
“Say what you gotta say and get the hell out.”
“David is miserable.”
Valerie glared through her glasses. “Miserable?”
“Yes. He is sad, depressed, and desperate. He’s lonely, Val. He misses being close to you.”
Why, I don’t know, Corrine thought.
“He’s stressed like you wouldn’t believe,” Corrine said. “You need to cool it with the baby stuff.”
“Wow.” Valerie yanked her glasses off again. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but are you really giving me advice about my husband?”
“Yes, because even though you think I care about no one but myself, I care about David. You know I’ve always thought he was a nice person and treated him kindly.”
“Yes you have.” Valerie looked her up and down. “And I’ve always wondered why.”
“Why?” Corrine shook her head. “Because he’s a good person, and we’ve built a connection.”
“Let me guess.” Valerie rocked in the chair. “Has David been whining to you again about our relationship? I told him I wasn’t comfortable with that.”
Corrine smirked. “You think something’s going on between us?”
“Girl, please.” Valerie guffawed. “David’s a good man, and since when has a good man ever wanted you?”
“Fuck you.” Corrine snatched her purse and marched toward the door. Then she stopped. “Your marriage is falling apart, and you better do something.”
Valerie looked at her with wide eyes.
“David loves you within every inch of himself. You are damn lucky to have a man like that to come home to. I can name a million women who would want him and treat him right.”
“Including you?” Valerie stood and pushed the rolling chair from behind her. “You want David? Is that it? It wouldn’t be the first time you wanted a man I loved.” She walked up to her. “But I swear to God, you won’t get David. Other men might fall for the hair flipping and the swiveling hips and sweet voice. But I know what you are, and so does David.”
“You just said David would never want me, right?” Corrine shrugged. “Then why are you so threatened?”
“Just get the hell outta my face, Corrine.” Valerie went back to her desk. “After all you’ve taken from me, you’re lucky I don’t beat your ass into that carpet.”
“When are you gonna stop blaming me for you not having kids?”
“Never! Because it is your fault!” Valerie slammed her hand on the desk. “You pushed me down those stairs, and I lost my baby.” She began to sob. “I couldn’t ever carry another one because of you!”
“You’re so wrong about that.” Corrine reached for her but stopped. “I didn’t push you on purpose. We were arguing, and you fell. I’d never hurt you.”
“Bullshit.” A tear dangled from Valerie’s lips. “You were so jealous that I was carrying David’s baby, so you pushed me.” She covered her mouth. “I knew you didn’t like me, but I never thought you could be so hateful.”
“Val…” She walked toward her.
“Stay away from me.” She wailed in her hands. “I think about that every day. Because of that miscarriage, my body was never the same. I haven’t been able to get pregnant since.”
“You can’t blame that on me.” Corrine burst into tears. “The doctor said you’d have lost the baby anyway. He said—”
“Shut your mouth before I smack the shit out of you.”
“It’s the truth! He said you’d never carry that baby to term.”
“You made sure of that, didn’t you?”
“This isn’t fair, Val.” Corrine’s lips trembled. “You’ve put this on me for the last ten years, and it isn’t fair.”
“You took everything from me.” Valerie lowered her hands. “Ever since we were kids, you hated me. You were always jealous, and you still are. Just admit you’re happy I can’t have children.”
“Stop it!” Corrine slapped tears. “You know damn well I wouldn’t want that. I love you, Val. I know we’ve had our problems, but I love you.”
“Then how come you’ve never shown it? Today is a good example. You came over here for David, not for me. How many talks have we had because of what I’m going through?”
Corrine rubbed her forehead.
“Everyone else has talked to me over and over and tried to console me. They know how much it kills me that I can’t have a baby. Where have you been, Corrine? Where?”
“You won’t let me be there for you.” She sniffled. “Whenever I try to be nice to you, you think there’s some hidden agenda.”
“Because there always is.”
“You can blame me for a lot of shit.” Corrine pointed to her. “But don’t blame me for you not having a child. I’ll take the blame for anything but that.”
Then she marched out of the room.
CHAPTER SIX
“Having dissociative identity disorder is just…hard.” The heavy-set black woman with the corn rolls rubbed her hands together. “Sometimes I feel like I’m from another planet.” She looked at the small group of people who sat around her in a circle. “What was really difficult was dealing with what my father had done to me. The different personalities helped me to forget about being molested.” She looked at Layla, who glanced away. “I’ve felt like I’ve been in a war with myself for twenty years. A part of me wanted to conquer my demons, but the other felt I needed to hang on to them to survive.”
“How did that make you feel?” Dr. Livingston scribbled on her notepad. “How hard was it to have to hang on to these personalities?”
“It was hard.” A tear ran down the woman’s chubby cheek. “I felt like if I had someone who truly cared about me, than I wouldn’t have needed the personalities. It’s like a prison.”
Layla inhaled and wiggled her foot.
“There’s no other way to describe it,” the woman’s voice drifted.
“Thank you for sharing your story, Janet.” Dr. Livingston patted Janet’s hand. “Anyone else?”
The group dropped their heads except for Cross who’d once again been staring at Layla the entire time.
“Layla?” Dr. Livingston smiled at her. “Would you like to say something?”
Everyone looked at her.
“I don’t think I’m ready,” she told Dr. Livingston.
Cross chuckled. “Is anyone ever ready?”
The group grinned. Layla tapped her foot.
“It’s okay.” Dr. Livingston touched Layla’s thigh. “You know we’re here for you.”
“It’s just funny.” Layla exhaled into her palms. “I’ve done this a million times, and it’s never easy.”
Cross leaned forward and clasped his hands. His attention irritated yet comforted her at the same time.
“I checked myself back in because I fell off the deep end again,” Layla said. “I started hallucinating, and I thought my house was on fire.”
Dr. Livingston nodded.
“It’s amazing how real it all seemed. I smelled the smoke. I saw the ashes.” She touched her arm. “I felt the heat on my skin. I…” She clasped her hands.
“I’m sure that was scary,” Dr. Livingston said. “To be a part of a present that’s not real…how does it make you feel, Layla?”
“Like an idiot. Like someone who isn’t even human. Like no one would ever understand.”
“Is there something that recently happened that might’ve triggered it?” Dr. Livingston asked. “You’d been doing fine for over a year.”
“I don’t think anything really triggers the hallucinations, but I recently got divorced a month ago.”
Cross leaned back and crossed his arms.
“That was hard,” Layla said. “I’d been married twenty years, and I was used to that structure. When you wake up to the same person, even if it’s not paradise, you still miss it.”
“Why wasn’t it paradise?” Dr. Livingston whispered.
“It was at first.” Layla straightened up in the chair. “I thought Patrick was my soul mate because he accepted me. Before I met him, I’d lost relationships because of my illness. It takes a toll on the ones closest to you.” Her gaze landed on the bald man. “When I met Patrick, I had everything. I was making moves to start my business, Royal Delights.”
“The catering company?” the blonde-haired woman beside Cross asked. “That’s yours?”
Layla nodded.
“Wow.” The blonde woman smiled. “My sister had you guys cater her wedding last year. The food was amazing.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Layla said. “I haven’t worked in two years. I went through a rough patch. The medicine was getting to me, and I stayed stressed. Funny thing is I loved working, but the doctor and Patrick said it was best that I cooled it. So I left.”
“Did you want to?” Cross asked.
“No,” Layla answered. “I felt Patrick pushed me into it, like he always pushed me into things.”
“What do you mean?” Dr. Livingston asked her.
“Patrick thinks he always knows what’s best for me, and he doesn’t like to hear otherwise.” Layla gripped the bottom of her chair. “He thinks he knows more about my illness than I do. That bugged the hell out of me. On top of that, everything was always my fault. He sucked the life out of me.”
“Why do you say that?” Janet asked.
“I feel like he stripped me of what makes me…me. I was always independent, and I loved being a chef and running my catering company.” She began to rock. “Other than my girls—we have two teenagers—nothing made me happy like working. It was a part of me. I felt so lost after not being able to do it. It’s like as time went on he took pieces of me.” She breathed into her hands. “I hate to say this, but I think he was glad I was schizophrenic so that…when I fell to pieces…he could put me back together. I think that’s why he married me. Because it made him feel strong to have someone he had to rescue.”
“That’s deep,” Cross said. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yes.” A tear escaped the corner of her eye. “I do.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
As Cross walked Layla to her room thirty minutes later, he asked, “You okay?”
She pulled at her Houston Rockets T-shirt. “I hate group.”
“Why?”
“It’s embarrassing,” she answered as she leaned against the white door. “You open yourself up to a bunch of strangers, and what’s the point?”
“The point is to get us to see ourselves differently than we already do. The reason we end up in the institution is because we don’t know how to relate to others. I love group.” He scratched his arm. “I feel like I can be myself. Did you mean what you said? You believe your ex-husband liked you being schizophrenic?”
“I shouldn’t have said that.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t mean that he wanted me to have this illness. But after a while, it’s like his purpose became cleaning my messes…you know? Sometimes it’s like if he wasn’t doing that, I didn’t know why we were together.”
He moved closer to her. “Do you still love him?”
“He’s the father of my kids. I’ll always love him. But I’m not in love with him, and I haven’t been for a long time.” She put her hands behind her back. “I don’t regret the divorce, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He pointed to the wrinkled crayon drawing with macaroni stuck to it, which hung on her wall.
“That’s cute,” he said, walking to it.
“That’s my daughter’s.” Layla stood beside him. “Aliyah did this when she was in the third grade.”
“It’s adorable.” He touched the blue-and-green crayon scribbles. “‘I love you, Mommy,’” he read.
“Every time I come to treatment, I bring it with me and hang it up. I had this room once before, by the way.” She walked to the window, pulled the blinds back, and opened the terrace door. “I used to sit ou
t here all the time.” She sniffed the scent of fresh flowers and grass. “I usually just stay in my room when I’m at Wellington. I always thought it would make the time go faster.”
Cross smiled.
“You know what’s funny?” She walked over to him. “I don’t feel that way this time, and I don’t know why.” She put her hands in her pockets. “I feel like this time is different. I feel powerful…like the real Layla.”
She sat on the bed with a heavy sigh.
“And who is the real Layla?”
He stood over her and touched a strand of her hair. Layla hesitated, “Uh…”
“I shouldn’t have done that.” He moved away from the bed. “I apologize.”
She stood. “Cross, I…”
He held out his hands. “I don’t want you thinking I’m some creep that goes around molesting all the beautiful women in here.”
She shivered. “Beautiful?”
“I’m sure you know that you’re very beautiful.” He blushed. “You’re schizophrenic, not blind.”
She laughed. “Thank you. It’s been a long time since I got a compliment.”
He pointed toward the door. “You gonna come outside?”
“No.” She grabbed her Kindle from the end table. “I’m gonna read a little bit. I love to read.”
She sat back on the bed and he seemed to contemplate her statement.
“Umm…okay. I’m gonna go outside. I can’t stand being inside all the time. I’m an outdoors person.”
She put her Kindle on her lap. “Is that what you do for a living? Something outdoors?”
He held his waist. “No, I’m a math teacher.”
“A math teacher? Wow. I didn’t guess that.”
“Yeah, I teach at Johnston Middle School. I live by Meyerland.”
“Really? Small world. I stay in Bellaire…Braeswood.”
“We live by each other, then.” A smile took over his face. “It definitely is a small world. I heard you have an MBA from Harvard Business School. I’m impressed.”
“Thanks.”
“Since you live on Braeswood, do your daughters go to Lamar High School or…”