As I sat in the passenger seat of my car while Terrell drove me across town, I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience. What had I done in the past that was so jacked up that when it came back around, I had to go through this? I felt like I could pull my hair out from the roots, but I kept my composure. I didn’t have the energy at the very moment to spaz the way I wanted to, and I just needed to get in the house and in the bed.
It took the moving men about an hour to get all of my stuff unpacked and in the house, and I made sure to tip them very nicely for coming on such short notice. Terrell wanted to stay, but I assured him that I was cool. I just needed to be alone for a second. He finally left, and once I had the house locked up, I was able to sit down and think.
I had to have been at the dining room table forever, because by the time I finished my bottle of wine, it was dark outside. Staggering a little, I grabbed my phone and made my way toward the stairs. Halfway up, my phone rang, but the number wasn’t one that I recognized.
“Hello?” I answered, trying not to slur my words. I was faded, and I felt a little dizzy, taking a seat on the bench in the hall before I fell over.
“Are you ready for that counseling session now?” came Sean’s voice over the phone.
I held the phone out and looked at it like it was a foreign object before placing it back to my ear. “Sean, go fuck yourself,” I said more calmly into the phone than I appeared, before snapping the phone shut, then turning it off completely, because he kept calling back. Calling Terrell from my emergency cell phone, which I kept for moments like this, I told him that my other phone would be off for a few days, and if he wanted to reach me, the emergency phone was the one I would pick up.
Lying down in the bed, I continued to wonder how my life had got to be such a mess. As I drifted off to sleep, I could feel tears burning my eyes and sliding down the sides of my face, but I refused to give in to grief, and I allowed sleep to overtake me. I would deal with this another day. I didn’t feel like putting my life back together at this moment, and I was too drunk to have any rational thoughts, anyway.
Shoo Fly
But you need to know, you gon’have to let go. You won’t ever be me, and he won’t ever be yours....
~Syleena Johnson
I stayed out of the shop for the rest of the week. Not that I was an emotional wreck or anything like that. I just didn’t feel like being bothered. The fact that I wasn’t all balled up in a corner, sniffling and tearing, had me concerned the most. Was I so far removed from my marriage that I didn’t care anymore? Who was I kidding? I felt like I was near death. I just didn’t have any more tears to waste on it.
I occupied my time by unpacking my boxes and dusting. That worked for a few hours, and I was actually able to get a lot done. That was until I pulled out a box of photos of me and Sean. At first I sat the box to the side, determined to get my mind off of him, but somewhere along the line I ended up with a fresh bottle of wine and pictures of us scattered across the table in front of me.
Picking up the pictures one at a time, I studied each one closely, wondering when things had started to go haywire. In the beginning pictures, I could see the excitement in both our eyes and the sincere happiness behind our smiles. I could recall each moment that was captured in each picture, down to the exact time of day. I smiled to myself, remembering that I had been meaning to put the snapshots of our life in a photo album, which I never got around to buying.
I also noticed that our smiles became less genuine as the pictures got more recent. Full-body pictures showing all my curves became shots above the breasts, and Sean’s smile was completely replaced with a seriously unhappy look on his face. I went from sitting on his lap in most of the pictures to sitting beside him, my waistline a little thicker. I could see unhappiness in both our eyes. Why didn’t I notice it before?
I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and I tried to blink them back, but once I flipped open the first page of our wedding album, it was a wrap. I was so beautiful in my gown, and Sean looked equally as handsome in his tux. As I flipped the pages, happy memories from that day flooded my mind, and I could almost hear the music—reminiscent of our first date in Puerto Rico—that played from the live Spanish band that Sean had hired. I felt good looking at the pictures, up until I got to a photo of us with Sean’s assistant. That put a definite damper on my mood immediately.
Taking the picture from the page, I held it up so that I could really see. Had she always been the conniving bitch I found screwing my husband on my bed? All our smiles matched perfectly, but I tried to read the look in her eyes. Was she being fake? At the time Sean had hired her just a few months before, and he wasn’t really beat on inviting her to the wedding. I was the one that insisted that she come. After all, they would be working closely together from then on out, and she had been a great help with getting some of the wedding stuff together.
Slamming the picture back down, I leaned back in the chair while the tears just flowed. Truth was, I missed my husband and I wanted to talk to him. Getting up from the chair, I went in search of my cell phone. I hadn’t turned it on since the other day, when I got home, and I hoped it had some power left, because I wouldn’t be able to locate a charger at the moment. Stepping around the few boxes I had left to unpack, I spotted my phone on the love seat near the door.
I was nervous for some reason. What if he didn’t want to talk to me? What if the photos I’d seen in the paper and on the Internet were old? What if he really wasn’t the one that packed my bags and it was his assistant, trying to break us up? My phone couldn’t power up fast enough, and I couldn’t wait to reach Sean. I had it in my head that he had changed his number just to piss me off. In my heart Sean really wanted us to work, and he would stay through the weight loss. We were married in sickness and in health, and this was just one of those times when we had to fight harder to hold on to each other.
Once my phone became fully functional, it began to beep, indicating that I had voice messages waiting. I quickly connected to my in-box and was informed that I had six messages. I would begin to listen for Sean’s voice, and if it wasn’t him, I would skip past the message. I was losing hope, until I got to the fifth message and heard him. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest as he began to talk.
“Valencia, I thought I had made a mistake,” he began, sounding like he was trying to hold it together, just like I was. “I thought that we could try to make this work. The truth is, I got tired of hiding my relationship with my assistant from you. When you started to gain weight, that made it much easier to make a decision....”
My heart stopped in my chest, if only for a second. Was he telling me that he and his assistant had been together before, or even ever since we got married? Did I walk into this marriage under false pretenses? I knew we didn’t know each other that well when we married, but at the very least, I thought for sure that I knew he was single.
“So, with all of that said,” the message continued, “I’ll send you over the deed to the house. You can do with it what you want. Sell it or whatever. I won’t be coming back to it. I’ll also make sure you are taken care of if we can keep this breakup between us as quiet and painless as possible....”
Quiet and painless? Did this man really want me to be quiet about a divorce after he had already broken up with me in front of the world? Anytime TMZ was reporting our breakup and showing him out with different women, it didn’t get more painful than that. His message was still going on, but I had checked out moments before. Snapping my phone shut, I fell back into the chair I was sitting in and tried to gather my thoughts.
The time on my phone read 10:30 P.M. Who could I call at this time of night that was willing to listen and not pass judgment? I knew I could call Terrell, but he wouldn’t be able to offer me the advice I needed. He would just do whatever was required to make me feel better. Getting up from the chair, I went up to my bedroom to get myself together. Upon entering it, I spotted the notepad I got fro
m the therapist’s office. His card was sitting on the nightstand.
Sitting on the side of the bed, I grabbed the card from its spot and flipped it over in my hand. The number to his cell phone was on the back. He did say that if I wanted to, I could call him at any time. Did he mean at times like this, when I felt like I was spiraling out of control? Or did he mean anytime during office hours? Would he think I was crazy if I called him now? I spun the idea around in my head for, like, a half hour before I finally got up the nerve to make the call. It was late, and I was on pins and needles, but I decided to take the plunge and just do it. What did I have to lose?
It felt like it took forever for me to dial his number, but I finally got through all ten digits. When the phone began to ring, I froze and almost couldn’t breathe. I wanted to hang up, but my fingers wouldn’t close the phone. What was I doing?
“Hello?” came the doctor’s deep voice from the other end, and I couldn’t say a word.
Emergency
Got a lady on the line screaming I’m what she need. I done got this call a thousand times; I’m leaving, rushing to see....
~Tank
Dr. Alexander Thornton III
I was awakened out of my sleep by my cell phone ringing. First taking a look at the clock to decide if I would answer it or not, I figured it might be an emergency, so just maybe I should see who it was. I didn’t recognize the number and started to just let it ride, assuming it might be a wrong number. Something in me made me push the talk button, anyway. It was almost eleven at night, so this had better be good.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”
“I’m sorry to wake you, Dr. Thornton. It’s Valencia, and you said I could call you whenever I needed to.”
My heart skipped a beat. The vision of her curvy body invaded my mind instantly, and the sound of her voice sent chills down my spine. What could be troubling her this late at night that she would have to call me? I mean, I gave my number to a select few of my clients, but no one had yet to use it since that one crazy incident... but that was another story for another time.
“Certainly. I’m glad you called. I mean, what’s wrong?” This woman had me tongue-tied, and I wasn’t sure why. I knew instantly that something major must have happened with her and her husband’s situation, but I wouldn’t just come right out and ask.
“My husband ... he ... I can’t believe ... ,” she cried into the phone.
It tore me apart. I didn’t know why I felt such a connection with her. I felt like I wanted to save her from whatever it was that was hurting her, but I had to keep things professional. The last time I fell in love with someone, it took me too long to bounce back, and I almost lost everything. I also needed to wrap this call up before I crossed the line. I was ready to get out of my bed and jet over to wherever she was and hold her. I had to hang up.
“Valencia, stop crying, okay? Just take a minute and breathe. We’ll count down from ten together,” I said to her in a soothing voice that would hopefully get her to calm down.
We both began at ten, and by the time we got to three, she was just whimpering softly. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“I ... when I left therapy the other day ... ,” she began in a voice choked with tears that was killing me. By the time she got through telling me what happened, she was crying heavily all over again. “And when I got to the house, he had my stuff packed up and waiting by the door.”
“And how did that make you feel?” I asked the question in such a clinical way that it made me feel sick to my stomach. I really wanted to ask her where the man was so I could see him about something. Most of the women I met were always locked into a relationship, or some form of one, with an undeserving man. It never failed.
“I still don’t know how I feel. How could he do this to me?”
I didn’t answer. I just allowed her to get all her tears out. It wasn’t my job to pass judgment, but I knew I had to start getting her to see herself in a better light. She needed to get to a place where before she even got to this point in a relationship, she would recognize the signs and protect her heart.
“Valencia, I know I’m not supposed to see you until later in the week, but why don’t you stop into my office first thing in the morning? I’ll call my assistant and have her move some things around to fit you in, okay? I think it will be better to talk face-to-face.”
“Okay,” she sighed into the phone, sounding like she was trying to get herself together. “What time should I be there?”
“Come at eight. My first appointment isn’t until eight thirty, but even if I have to push back some time, I will still be able to make strides. See you then?”
“I’ll see you then,” she responded with another sigh, this one sounding like relief. “Thank you for answering the phone.”
“Thanks for trusting me enough to call. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Lying back in my bed, I stared up at the ceiling. What had the world come to? Valencia’s situation took me back to a time when I had another patient just like her. She was gorgeous and voluptuous, with a sassy little attitude that her husband had tried to beat out of her. I really felt like I could help her see her true self, but once her husband found out that she was seeking therapy, she stopped coming. I didn’t want to lose Valencia the same way.
I couldn’t sleep, so I grabbed a notepad from my nightstand and began to jot down things I wanted to talk to Valencia about. I wished for a second I was jotting down plans for a date with her, but I kept those thoughts in check. I needed to get her off of my mind and stop thinking the thoughts I was thinking if I was going to help her. I didn’t succumb to sleep until about two in the morning, and even then she invaded my dreams. When I woke up the next morning, I rushed through exercise and breakfast to get to the office so that I wouldn’t be late. To my surprise, when I pulled up, she was just getting out of her car.
I took in her curves as she stood straight and adjusted her clutch under her arm. She was rocking the hell out of a cute pair of jeggings and a floral-printed top that caught the wind and flowed softly around her. Once she made it around to the front of her car, I could see her feet, and the sandals she chose to go with her outfit were fierce. Her long hair was loosely curled, and her face was made up nicely. There was no indication that she’d been in a middle of a meltdown just hours before. I was glad to see that she was still taking steps to pull herself together, the way we discussed, and she hadn’t shown up in sweats and a raggedy T-shirt. That showed me that she was still in the race to gain her independence.
“Good morning, Valencia. Glad you could make it,” I said from behind her as I walked to catch up with her. She looked a little startled when she turned around, but once she saw me, she smiled.
“Thank you so much for agreeing to see me so early. I’m sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused in your schedule.”
“It isn’t an inconvenience at all. I’m glad you called. That’s what I’m here for.”
I took in the scent of her perfume and allowed it to roll around in my nose as she went ahead of me. I wanted to close my eyes and really save it to memory, but I didn’t want her to think I was a weirdo or anything like that. I did take a second to enjoy the view, though. I was a man, after all. Stopping at the receptionist’s desk before going into my office, I checked for any notes or messages that might have come in after I left on Friday. Satisfied that I had gathered everything that I needed, I walked toward my office.
“Valencia, you can come in when you are ready,” I said to her from the door of my office. In the meantime I took a second to get her file out, along with the notepad that I’d made notes on the night before, so that we could really talk. I wanted to help Valencia get to a stronger place in her life.
She looked a little timid this time as she walked into my office, and I knew in her head she was wondering if she was doing the right thing. I think I might have been happier to see her than she was being here. Once she got herself settled, I pulled out a mirror and
set it on my desk. We sat there for a minute, staring at each other, and I felt like I could’ve looked into her eyes forever. After a while I passed her the mirror on my desk, but still no words were spoken. She gave me a strange look but said nothing.
“Valencia, tell me what you see in that mirror.”
She looked in the mirror for a long time without saying anything. I wished I could be in her head to hear all the thoughts that were probably fighting for the number one spot. I allowed her as much time as she needed, and I didn’t stop her when the tears began to fill her eyes and fall. She was hurting, but I needed her to see her value. I needed her to know it was okay for her to cry.
“I see ... ,” she began in a cracked voice as she struggled past her tears. “I see a fool. I see someone who is gullible and keeps making mistakes. I see a fat girl replacing the woman I used to be. I see a lonely old woman,” she cried out, closing her eyes for a brief second and holding the mirror to her chest.
She almost had me for a minute, but I held it together. My biggest weakness was a woman in tears.
“I see a woman ready for change, but not sure how to get there,” she concluded, setting the mirror facedown on my desk.
“Valencia, pick the mirror back up and repeat after me,” I instructed, never taking my eyes from her face. She looked uncertain, but I gave her a reassuring smile to let her know she could trust me. “Repeat after me,” I said to her after she looked back in the mirror. “I’m an independent woman.”
“I’m an independent woman?” she asked, rather than repeating the statement.
“Yes, you are. You are a business owner, and you are making moves on your own. You don’t need a man to define you. Now, repeat after me. I love myself.”
Full Figured 4: Carl Weber Presents Page 8