by E. N. Joy
“I don’t mean anything against your daughter. It’s just that my mother’s house and my children’s church are the only places the kids have been without me and Lynox being present. I mean, Tyson has gone over to his best friend’s next door, but that’s about it.”
“I understand. I know what it’s like to be apart from your kids when they’re young.” Klarke looked regretful as she backed out of the driveway.
“I take it you’re referencing the time you were away in jail,” Deborah said, sensing that an opportunity to delve a little deeper into Klarke’s incarceration was presenting itself.
Klarke nodded. She looked to make sure no cars were coming as she pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. “It was awful.”
“I can only imagine,” Deborah said. “It’s a mother’s worst nightmare to be separated from her children, knowing she can’t go to them whenever she wants.”
“It was a nightmare,” Klarke said as she drove. “As a matter of fact, the nightmares haunted me for quite some time. I saw a lot while I was locked up, things I wish I could forget. My kids went through a lot while I was gone. I used to wake up out of my sleep in a cold sweat, crying and hyperventilating. I truly thought I was going to lose my mind.”
Deborah let out a harrumph. “I know the feeling.” She turned her head and looked out the window. Thinking about her own issues pulled her away from wanting to find out about Klarke’s.
“What do you mean?” Klarke asked, fishing. Reo had already had a conversation with Klarke in which he shared some of the things Lynox had told him. Klarke hoped Deborah would open up to her on her own. She really wanted to be there for her and help her, simply because she knew firsthand what Deborah was experiencing. If she could help her new acquaintance, she wouldn’t hesitate.
Deborah turned to look at Klarke. Her words had popped into her head and had shot out of her mouth before she had had a chance to think about their impact. She hadn’t meant to admit out loud that she felt as though she was losing her mind. And now Klarke was questioning her about this statement. She hesitated. She’d already stormed out of Reo’s book event, probably leaving Klarke to believe she was a little off her rocker. That hadn’t deterred Klarke from inviting Deborah to brunch. Had Klarke not had to take that emergency phone call and run out of the restaurant, Deborah probably would have come off as a crazy and deranged wife, because she’d had every intention of drilling Klarke about her phone conversation with Lynox.
Once Deborah talked to Lynox and was able to cool off and think things through, she’d realized that believing something was going on between Lynox and his mentor’s wife was foolish. So now she really wanted to make an honest attempt at forming a friendship with Klarke. In doing so, the last thing she wanted to do was scare Klarke off by telling her about her issues. But by the same token, if she really planned on starting a real friendship with this woman, she didn’t want it to be built on lies, secrets, and half-truths.
Deborah exhaled. “A while back I got counseling. My life was so overwhelming.”
Klarke nodded, letting Deborah know that she was listening.
When Deborah noticed that Klarke wasn’t acting funny about what she’d revealed, she continued on. “I was snapping at my child, my mother, church members. Heck, even my pastor.”
“What about Lynox?”
Deborah thought for a moment. “No. I did a good job of hiding the ugly side of me from him. I mean, he knew I was a little fresh at the mouth and could hold my own. But he never saw me when I was completely turned up, if you know what I mean. By that time my therapist had prescribed me meds to help me, you know, keep calm.” Deborah shook her head. “I cringe when I think of some of the things I did.” Her eyes watered. “I was so mean to my son. I didn’t beat him or anything, not with my fists. But I bruised his poor spirit up real good with the words that came out of my mouth. Every little thing used to make me pop off. He had no idea what was going on or why I acted the way that I did. He just loved his mommy.”
Klarke opened up her console and grabbed a napkin. She handed it to Deborah.
Deborah took the napkin and wiped the tears that were now sliding down her cheeks. She sniffed and continued speaking. “All my mom did when I was growing up was yell, scream, fuss, holler, and call me out of my name. It was the way she communicated with me. It used to hurt, and it was embarrassing, because she would humiliate me out in public. And I’m not saying it’s a race thing, but I rarely see as many white folks cussing their kids out in public as I do black folks. As black people, we’ve been broken down enough. Why break each other down, let alone our own children?”
“I hear you,” Klarke said. “It was my daddy who had the tongue on him and who was like a raging bull. My mother was the opposite. Quiet and meek. She’d give me treats after he would go off on me. I think it was her way of apologizing for not being able to protect me from his wrath. But I understood. How could she protect me when she couldn’t even protect herself?”
“Did your dad used to hit your mom?”
“No,” Klarke answered, “but like you said with your son, sometimes the verbal beat down was worse. You know?”
“Yes, I do,” Deborah said, wishing she didn’t. “Between my counseling sessions and my meds, I got back on track. Lynox and I were doing well. He proposed, we married, and then shortly thereafter, I got pregnant. My life was bliss, bliss, and more bliss. I was consumed by happiness. And I had Lynox to talk to, so not only did I stop taking the meds—because I was pregnant, of course—but my visits with the therapist and the counselor became far and few between. As far as I could see, I had no problems and issues that I needed to talk about. My career was going well too. Then, after I had the baby, everything changed. Well, not everything. Me,” Deborah said, pointing at her chest.
“Baby blues?” Klarke asked.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. I was sad, depressed, tired, and I felt like a bad mother and a bad wife. I wasn’t excited about any of my clients’ projects. I was going through the motions of doing them.”
“What did your doctor say about that?”
“I didn’t really tell my doctor. The whole postpartum depression thing sounded like white people’s stuff.”
“Girl, please,” Klarke said. “And weaves and extensions used to be thought of as black people’s stuff. People better stop putting a color on issues if they want to get right.”
“I know. I know.” Deborah sighed.
“Did you at least start going back to see your counselor?” Klarke asked as she continued to drive.
“No. Well, yes. Kind of,” Deborah stammered.
“Girl, did you or didn’t you?” Klarke asked.
“A few weeks ago I found myself in Dr. Vanderdale’s office.” Deborah frowned. “But it felt so useless. I don’t need a doctor and happy pills to function. I know I can do this on my own, with the help of Jesus, of course. I have to get focused.”
“And how’s that working out for you?” Klarke asked sarcastically.
Deborah looked over at her and chuckled. “Funny.” She rolled her eyes. “But seriously, I pray about it, asking God to heal me.”
“And I truly believe that He will,” Klarke said. “He’s going to heal you with His power and His anointing, but more importantly, with His resources, and sometimes, honey, I’m sure those resources come in the form of a pill.”
Deborah pulled her head back and looked at Klarke. “Okay, and just what makes you the expert on all this?”
“Like I said, I’ve been through some mess, child. Jail was no joke. Dealing with Reo’s ex, my children. I, too, was on cloud nine for a minute, until reality set in and kicked my butt right off the cloud, and I had to come tumbling back down to reality. After all the drama of jail, Reo and I got back together. Everything was good. But once the dust settled, my idle mind started really messing with me. I’d have nightmares about everything that had taken place in my life. No matter what good was going on in my life, all the—”
“Yes, exactly,” Klarke confirmed.
Deborah exhaled. “You get it! Oh, my God, to meet someone who finally freaking gets it,” Deborah shouted, excited and relieved. She was not alone.
“I would get all snappy, then depressed, and when anxiety kicked in, child, watch out,” Klarke said, shooing her hand. “My mind moved faster than my body did, so it was always working a day ahead of me and what I could physically keep up with.”
Deborah buried her face in her hands and began weeping. To know that Klarke really could comprehend and relate to what Deborah was going through was such a relief. Not only that, but Klarke spoke as though she had gotten through it personally and wasn’t just talking in order to be talking. That meant there was hope for Deborah too.
Klarke gave her new confidante a moment to take it all in. Klarke understood the pain of being a prisoner in one’s own mind and thinking that no one else could relate. Sure, the counselors, doctors, and therapists could scientifically explain the issue, but they didn’t know what it felt like. They couldn’t fathom the actual torment.
“It’s okay,” Klarke told Deborah, reaching over to pat her on the back.
“Thank you, Jesus,” Deborah mumbled into her hands. “God, thank you.” After a few more seconds, Deborah lifted her face and wiped it with the napkin Klarke had given to her earlier. “I can’t explain to you what it means to know someone who has experienced firsthand what I’m going through.”
“You don’t have to explain it to me. Oh, I get it. As a matter of fact, the women we’ll be hanging out with tonight, they all get it.”
Deborah looked over at Klarke. She now felt a little iffy about revealing all this. “What do you mean?”
Klarke sighed and thought for a minute. When sharing the information that Lynox had relayed to him, Reo had been clear about the fact that Klarke couldn’t reveal her source to Deborah. So how in the world was she going to let Deborah know that she had long been privy to her situation without telling her that Lynox had spilled the beans?
“Can I be honest with you?” Klarke asked, knowing she was going to be only partially honest.
“Absolutely,” Deborah said. She’d been completely honest with Klarke, so she expected the same in return.
“The first night I met you, I saw how your mood suddenly shifted out of nowhere. Then I noticed it again at our brunch. You seemed to get a little antsy, or anxious maybe, there toward the end. It takes someone like me to notice those kinds of things. Me and Michel’le.”
“Oh, my God!” Deborah said, once again excited to be with a like-minded person. “You watched that R&B Divas: Los Angeles show too. You saw what Michel’le was going through when she had that anxiety episode and her therapist was there to help her?”
Klarke nodded. “I saw it, and I cried, because I sympathized with her. I had worn those same exact shoes many times.” Klarke got a little choked up. “I know reality television gets a bad rap. But there is nothing new under the sun that goes on, on those shows. And I strongly believe that everything doesn’t have to have a Christian label or some other religious tag on it to minister to and reach people.”
Deborah’s eyes filled with tears. “I agree. I watched that show with Lynox sitting right there in the room. It took everything in me to keep my tears at bay and stop myself from shouting out, ‘That’s me. I get it. Michel’le, girl, I know how you feel.’”
Klarke laughed. “And, see, it was the opposite with me. Reo was sitting there, watching it with me, and he turned and said to me, ‘Baby, so is that how you used to feel?’ And he touched my hand and smiled at me.”
Deborah was a little taken aback. “So you explained to Reo what was going on in your head?”
“Sure did.”
“And he didn’t leave you and think you were crazy?”
Klarke laughed. “Oh, he thought I was crazy. It was he who urged me to put my pride aside and go get some help. He even went with me to my first couple of sessions. Sitting there and listening to him tell my therapist how my actions were destroying our relationship, it hurt. And I knew it was tearing us apart, yet I insisted on trying to work my way through it alone, thinking that as long as I focused on being happy, it would all be good. I had every reason in the world to be happy, yet I couldn’t climb in the pocket and stay there.”
“You’re like this jack-in-the-box. Up, down, up, down,” Deborah said as she raised and lowered her hand.
“Exactly, and God forbid, someone try to interrupt your routine. Talk about heads rolling.”
“Girl, you are preaching to the choir,” Deborah said. “I couldn’t seem to keep it under control. I mean, yes, the pills helped. But I didn’t want to have to function the rest of my life based on what was in my medicine cabinet. I’m a control freak. The pills took away my control, it seemed. Like a kid with ADD who doesn’t know how to act unless they’re on some Ritalin.” Deborah rolled her eyes and shook her head.
“I’m definitely not trying to diagnose you, but it sounds like you really might have experienced a case of postpartum depression. It could have taken you back to that dark place, and you haven’t been able to pull yourself up out of the pit.”
Klarke was speaking the truth. The truth was hurting Deborah. She liked to think that she was strong enough to get through this on her own, and if not on her own, then with the strength of Jesus. But she was failing miserably.
Deborah looked at Klarke. “You keep saying you used to, as in the past tense. How did you get over it? Do you take meds? Do you see a shrink or something?”
“I still see my therapist a couple of times a month. Like you said, sometimes you just need to talk to someone who is on the outside, looking in. Someone who isn’t family or a friend. With friends and family members, you might leave little details out because you are afraid they will judge you. People like us really need to get everything off our minds and chests. God knows what will happen when it builds up and builds up and builds up.”
“What about drugs? Do you take anything prescribed by your doctor?”
“Well, yes and no.”
Deborah didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
Klarke had finally reached their destination, and she pulled up in front of a two-story stucco home. She put the car in park. “Well, you know I used to live in Nevada, right? And California was only a drive away.”
“Yes.” Deborah couldn’t wait to see where Klarke was going with this.
“Well, I would drive over to one of my doctors in California, and he was, let’s say, environmentally connected, you know, with nature. God’s natural herbs.”
Deborah sat there, looking as confused as ever. She wasn’t getting it.
Klarke let out a sigh. “Well, even though no doctor here in Ohio has prescribed for me what my green doctor prescribed for me, I still take it, and it still seems to do the job.”
Deborah sat there, still looking as clueless as ever. As if her mind didn’t do backflips all on its own, Klarke talking in circles had Deborah’s mind spinning.
Klarke saw that she wasn’t getting anywhere with Deborah. “Forget it. I think I can show you better than I can tell you. Let’s go.” Klarke turned off her vehicle, and her car door automatically unlocked. She pushed a button to unlock Deborah’s door, and the two of them got out of the car.
As they walked up the walkway to the front door, Deborah noticed the yard. Even though the sun was going down, she couldn’t help but be drawn to the beautiful landscaping. Flowers lined the walkway. About three feet out from the house, on each side of the porch, was a flower bed. The variety of flowers really popped in the deep, rich soil they were planted in. On each side of the house was another bed of soil with evenly trimmed bushes. Once they stepped onto the porch, she saw a wrought-iron plant stand with different planters resting on it. All the plants appeared nice and healthy.
It reminded Deborah of her neighbor’s house across
the street. The older woman paid a crew to tend her lawn, her plants, and her flowers all spring and summer long. She had even had a sprinkler system installed. Some days the woman would go outside and tend her yard herself, showing her horticultural creations some love.
Almost every car that drove by would slow down to look at her neighbor’s yard and some of the other yards on the street as well. Not everyone had professionals come out and take care of their landscaping. Some did it themselves. Deborah often wished she had the kind of time it took to create such a beautiful scene. She’d promised herself the past two seasons that she would get out there in her yard and get her hands dirty, but she never had. But that didn’t keep her from appreciating nature’s beauty.
“Your friend’s flowers and plants and everything are just lovely,” Deborah said to Klarke as Klarke rang the doorbell. “She must have a green thumb.”
Klarke looked over her shoulder and said, “If you only knew.” She then turned back around to face the door, while repeating under her breath, “If you only knew.” As the front door opened, Klarke braced herself, knowing that it was now only a matter of time before Deborah actually did know.
Chapter 11
Deborah looked around the Victorian-style house, wondering why it seemed that every home she walked into felt like what she wanted her own home to feel like. Like a home. Deborah wanted a life and a home that she didn’t feel like she had to take a vacation from, but that felt like a vacation instead.
Klarke, who was walking behind Deborah as they followed their host into the kitchen, noticed Deborah eyeballing the home. “Persia did all the interior decorating in her home,” Klarke said to Deborah. “Isn’t she the stuff?”
The introductions had been made between the home owner, Persia, and Deborah when Persia greeted them at the door. Persia was Reo’s best friend’s wife. Every month Klarke made it her business to connect with Persia. Her hope was that Deborah would ultimately find it beneficial to meet with them monthly as well.