Simone
I was a nervous wreck on my way to meet with the psychiatrist. Thankfully, as a favor to Mommy Miles’ friend, she was nice enough to fit me into her schedule at the last minute. My problems had me feeling like I was on the verge of a nervous break down and, possibly, suicide. Going to see a shrink was definitely my last resort, but I knew there was no way that I would be able to make it through the rest of my life if I wasn’t mentally stable.
I had the damned dream again last night, and it had me thinking suicidal thoughts when I awoke. The dreams were escalating and becoming more and more palpable with each nightmare. Last night, I felt him penetrating her, moving in and out of her. It was like I was her. It hurt so bad that it woke me out of my sleep at 1:00 in the morning. It was so sick that I had to run to the bathroom and vomit. I sat on the bathroom floor and sobbed until I couldn’t cry anymore. When I was finally able to pull myself off of the floor, I immediately went to my wine pantry and opened a bottle of Merlot. I took a swig straight out of the bottle and headed toward my balcony. I stepped one bare foot after another onto the cold slate flooring of my terrace and went straight to the edge.
I pictured myself flying through the sky until I plummeted 15 floors to my death. I wanted to end all this pain that wouldn’t allow me to live a normal life. One day I was happy and the next, I had to drag myself out of bed to start my day. I was sick and tired of the ups and downs and being an emotional wreck. I sat down in one of the four patio chairs at the round glass table and finished off the whole bottle of wine. I cried streams of tears that didn’t seem to release any of the pain that I was feeling. I felt so alone and completely helpless. I was a danger to myself and no one was around to help me.
Deon never called me back after his game like he said he would, and that just confirmed it. Men hardly ever keep their word. I stayed up the whole night thinking about everything that has gone wrong in my life and as soon as the clock struck 9:00, I called Doctor Harrison’s office and asked if she could see me immediately.
“Doctor Harrison will see you now.” The pleasant receptionist smiled, bringing me back to the present. I was so nervous that I was fidgeting, which is something that I haven’t noticed myself doing in a long while. I walked into the office and was greeted by a very warm, middle-aged woman with short salt and pepper hair and a warm smile.
“Hello, Simone. I’m Doctor Marge. Is it okay with you if I refer to you by your first name?” she asked, smiling with her hand extended.
“Yes, that’s fine with me,” I answered, shaking her hand.
“Good. I’d like for our meetings to be more personalized. Have a seat, dear. You can either sit up in the chair here,” she said, pointing to a hunter green leather recliner, “or you can lie down on the sofa, if you like.” She motioned toward a chenille, peanut butter hued sofa that was calling my name. I chose the sofa. I went over, plopped myself into it’s feathery cushions, and rested my head back. After gathering her recorder and note pad, she took a seat in the green leather chair that I had previously declined. As she jotted down several notes, I looked around the room. I noticed the nice pictures of who I assumed to be family members on her oak desk. There were numerous plaques hanging on the walls. The view of Hollywood and Universal Studios was calming. I felt myself relaxing.
“I’m going to record all of our conversations for my records only,” she began, “and I’ll be taking notes that will also be for my records. These are the tools that I use to help you. Our sessions don’t end when you leave. I still go over my notes and prepare for the next time we meet. We can begin when you’re ready.” I nodded my head to let her know that I was ready to begin.
“Okay, I’d like to start with what makes you feel that you need to come and see me.” I began by telling her about the dreams that have been haunting me. I explained how they were becoming increasingly vivid with each occurrence.
“When did these dreams start?” she asked in a soothing voice.
“Over a year ago. In the beginning, I would have one every few months, and as the months passed, I would have them more often. Now, I have them almost every night!”
“What exactly do you see in these dreams?”
“Well, I can’t see the little girl’s face, but I see the man clearly. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him before. This morning, I felt him entering her and it really hurt. It seems so real.” I tilted my head back to prevent tears from pouring out of my eyes. “I just want to know why this is happening to me.” I knew I sounded like a wounded little girl and that was just how I felt. I was afraid to lift my head, fearing my tears would start flowing uncontrollably as they did all morning.
“Tell me about your childhood, Simone,” Doctor Marge said, jotting down a couple of notes on her pad. I gave her the rundown on my crazy ass mother, my father’s death, being left home alone 90 percent of the time, then spending most of my time with the Miles family. I told her how I felt abandoned and unloved by my mother and how my parent’s family never came around.
“How is your relationship with your mom now?”
“I can’t stand the sight of her. So, you can imagine how I feel being in the same room with her. I think I hate her.” I ran down the story of my accident when she came to the hospital and did a bad job of acting like she cared.
“Was that the last time you’ve spoken to her?”
“Yeah. She didn’t even call to see if I made it home from the hospital or to see how I was feeling. She left a message yesterday telling me that she expects me to be at our annual family reunion this Saturday, but I’m not going. She always has to control every situation.” I felt myself getting angry.
“Before the accident, when was the last time that you’d spoke with your mother?”
“I don’t know. We hardly ever talk. I think I can go a lifetime without ever hearing her voice or seeing her face again. I mean, what kind of mother would act like she does with her only daughter, let alone her only child? How could she be so cold toward me? How could she not love me? What did I ever do to her to deserve this?” I gave in and let the tears flow from my eyes like a white water river. I felt my chest lighten up slightly as I grabbed a tissue out of a box that was sitting on the glass table to my left.
I couldn’t believe that I was expressing things that I had never shared with another living soul, let alone spoken aloud. I never even allowed myself to think these thoughts. I always felt there was no room for self-pity. I guessed it was always in the back of my mind and in my heart and that I needed to let go of it. It felt good to let those words flow off of my tongue. I cried and cried so much that month, but not until that day, did I feel the release of some of the heaviness that I had carried for far too long.
At the end of my session with Doctor Marge, I walked out of that office building with eyes that were redder than when I came. She suggested that I see my family and try to rebuild my relationship with my mother and my maternal side. “Take it step by step,” she said, “with the first step being your attendance at the family reunion.” There was hope for me and I knew it. I just had to hang on and ride out the storm that I knew was still brewing.
Talise
“I can’t believe that you’re actually going to this family reunion, Simone. I’m really proud of you, sis.” I reached over from directly behind the driver side seat and patted my girl on the shoulder to encourage her. She was definitely doing the right thing, but I could tell that she was nervous.
“Don’t worry, Monie. We got ya back. It’s gonna be cool. We can go up in here, eat up they food, ack like we bein’ sociable, and bounce like a mafuckin’ check bein’ returned unpaid,” Stacey joked, making us laugh.
“I’m cool, you guys. I’m really not nervous.” She tried to assure us. “You both know I couldn’t care less about what these people think about me. They’ve never done anything for me, so they can’t make or break me. I’m just showing up here to try and keep the peace and move forward in my life. I’m tired of so much drama between m
y mother and me. Maybe if the family sees what a good job I’ve done taking care of myself and notice how successful I’ve become, maybe she can begin to act like she’s proud of me and proud to have me as her daughter. But I know that’s wishful thinking,” Simone finished, with a sigh.
“Stay positive. Stay positive,” Stacey added, as he rubbed a hand across Simone’s silky, straight, jet-black hair.
“Okay, people, this is it,” Simone said, feigning enthusiasm as we stepped out of the car and onto the walkway that lead to the front entrance of Santa Monica’s prestigious Jonathan Club. Stacey held the door open for the both of us and, as soon as we walked in, we were greeted by Marie, Simone’s mom.
“Hello, hello. Glad you guys made it,” she said in a chipper voice, giving us all pecks on both cheeks. You would have thought that she would have at least hugged her daughter.
“So, Stacey, when are you going to fit me into that hectic schedule of yours so I can get my hair cut by the best stylist in town?” Marie said, intending a compliment. I looked at Simone who blatantly rolled her eyes at her mother.
“I’m sure Simone would get you into her salon anytime you want an appointment, ‘cause you would definitely want to have Monie cut your hair. She’s the best with the short cuts. She’s cuttin’ all the Hollywood girls right now and they have the hottest short cuts, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Stacey replied, very sweetly. He was the best at saying things that were wicked, but sugar coating them enough so you didn’t realize that you should probably be pissed off.
“I’m glad you made it on time, Simone,” Marie said, obviously changing the subject.
“Why wouldn’t I be on time?” Simone asked, incredulously.
“Well, you know you would be late for your own funeral. Follow me inside the banquet room,” she ordered as she pivoted in her plum, Manolo Blahnik pumps. She motioned for us to follow behind her as she briskly walked down the hall. Stacey and I both looked at Simone as she again rolled her eyes deep into the crevices of her eye sockets.
As we walked inside of the banquet hall, classical music sifted out of speaker vents in the ceiling. There were about 150 bourgeois black folks mingling and sipping champagne and wine.
“Come see your grandparents, Simone. They can’t wait to see you.” Marie walked toward a handsome couple. They looked to be in their early 70s. They were talking to a young man and woman who were holding hands and smiling broadly at the seniors.
“Excuse me, Mother, Father,” Marie interjected. “Simone is here.”
Simone walked up to her grandparents and gave them both hugs that lacked warmth. The hug between her and her grandmother was damned near cold.
“Grandpa, Grandma. I’d like you to meet my friends. This is Talise Miles and Stacey Flenoy.” I extended my hand to both and Stacey followed suit.
“Hello. Nice to meet you both, but I wish Simone had let someone know that she was going to be bringing guests of her own. We would have put it in the seating arrangements,” Simone’s grandmother said, in a very snooty tone with her nose stuck in the air.
“Oh, it’s no big deal, Caroline. I’ll tell the workers to bring in more chairs if we need them,” Simone’s grandfather stated, matter-of-factly.
“Well, Bradley, I’m just saying, when you plan for a certain amount of guests…” she began, looking at her husband as if she could have slapped him for speaking when not spoken to.
“If it’s a problem, we can leave. I just really wanted to come and say hi to everyone.” Simone spewed out in her grandmother’s direction, cutting her off mid-sentence.
“Over my dead body.” Simone’s grandfather grabbed her hand and led us away.
“Now I see where Mom gets her personality from,” Simone said, to no one in particular.
“The leaf doesn’t fall too far from the tree,” Simone’s grandfather whispered into her ear, not knowing it was loud enough for Stacey and me to hear as well.
“I don’t know why they act like that with me. They pretend to be sweet as pie to everyone else. But me? Oh, no. They have to always put me down for no reason at all.” I could tell Simone was pissed off. If it were possible, you would probably have seen steam coming out of her ears.
“Don’t pay them any mind. You know misery loves company. Your uncle should be here any minute. He’s driving in from San Diego with his wife. They’ll be staying at the house for a few days.” He stopped a waiter who was holding a tray of champagne flutes then handed each of us a glass.
“That’s a shame. I don’t even remember my own uncle.”
“The last time you saw him I think you were about nine or ten or something like that. He stayed with you and your mom for a couple of months during his leave from the Air Force. After he left here, he was stationed in Hawaii. That was until close to a year ago. So, it has been a while. You should come to the house tomorrow for Sunday dinner and get reacquainted. We’re about to get started, go ahead and grab some seats, you three. If you need anything, baby, just let me know.” He kissed Simone on the forehead and walked off.
“These people are un-fucking believable. I’m sorry I brought you guys here.”
“Don’t even trip. I wouldn’t want you to be here alone with these crazy ass folks anyway,” Stacey replied.
“Let’s grab a table at the back of the room,” I suggested. We took our seats and shortly after, everyone else did as well. Simone’s grandmother stepped up to the podium and tapped the microphone with her right index finger.
“First, I’d like to thank everyone for coming out for the Merchant and Dubois family reunion.” Everyone began clapping. “We’re going to start with our appetizers and main entrées and during tea and coffee, some family members are going to come up and say a few words. Please enjoy.” She stepped down and took her seat between Simone’s mother and grandfather.
“This is going to be a long day,” I whispered to Simone and Stacey. As usual, Stace and I started chuckling and acting silly, trying to bring a little life to the stiff party. Simone was distracted and uncharacteristically not joining us in our silly antics. She had her eyes fixed on a couple that had just walked through the door. Her face was cocked to the side and her eyes were angrily squinted. She muttered, “that sick son of a bitch,” under her breath before rising out of her seat and practically running out the door of the banquet hall. Stacey and I immediately ran out after her, but when we cleared the door she was nowhere in sight. The bathroom was the closest door so we figured that she must’ve went inside the ladies room.
I pushed open the bathroom door and called out Simone’s name. I heard sobs coming from the handicap bathroom stall.
“I’ll be right back, Stacey. I’m going in to see what’s wrong with her.”
“Oh, hell naw. I’m goin’, too! Ain’t no woman up in there that I want to see. Shit, they should keep me out the men’s restrooms,” Stacey replied, pushing past me and heading straight for the sobbing stall.
“Monie, what’s the matter?” I tapped on the door lightly.
“Open the door, honey.” Stacey spoke to Simone in a worried, soothing voice, but Simone just cried louder. I had never in my life heard her cry like this. I was afraid and didn’t know what to think. Stacey got down on the floor, slid under the door, and unlocked it from the inside. When he opened it for me to come in, I saw Simone sitting on the floor with her back against a marble wall. Her knees were pulled to her chest and her head was buried within the circle of her arms that were clasped tightly around her knees. I started crying and noticed that Stacey was crying as well.
“Simone, talk to us. You’re scaring me. Tell us what’s wrong. We’ll fix it. Just tell us!” I repeated to her over and over, but she wouldn’t say a word. We sat in that bathroom stall for close to 15 minutes with Simone’s sobs getting harder and harder.
Stacey stood and picked Simone up in one swoop and motioned with his head for me to follow him. Both of our faces were tear-stained and our eyes were blood-shot red. Stacey headed out of the
bathroom with Simone in his arms and we ran smack dab into Simone’s mother.
“What in the hell is going on? Simone, are you on drugs or something?” Marie spewed in a whisper. It would be an understatement to say that her reaction was alarming. Marie wasn’t the least bit concerned about her daughter crying so hard that she was heaving, so hard that she had to be carried to the car.
“What? You know what? …never mind. Let’s get her home, Stacey,” I said, as we continued right past her, heading for the car. Simone never once looked up or acknowledged her mother. I wanted to curse her out so badly, but I decided against it. I just wanted to get Simone into a comfortable environment that would hopefully calm her down.
I opened the door for Stacey to sit Simone in the backseat. Then I went to the other side and hopped in the back with her. She laid her head on my lap as we drove toward her house. By this time, her sobs turned to whimpers and shivers. Tears fell down my cheeks as I rocked her back and forth all the while, wondering what in the world could be wrong with my best friend.
When we finally pulled up to Simone’s loft and parked in her garage, she got out of the car and began walking toward the elevator. We followed closely behind her, both of us scared to break the silence as Stacey put the key into the 15th floor key hole. The elevator slowly rose past the floors that housed two units and arrived at Simone’s floor, which housed only her large unit. We got off of the elevator and Stacey unlocked the front door.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to go wash my face and change,” Simone said, walking toward her bedroom. She sounded so empty. She held her head down like she was ashamed, like if she looked into our eyes we would be able to see all the things she’d hidden from us. I put the tea kettle on a burner, thinking that some hot tea would make us all feel better, but Stacey went to the wine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Pinot Noir and began uncorking it.
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