Page 49 of Saint Baptiste 2

“What’s wrong?” Eboni inquired.

“Nothing,” I lied, with a sigh. “Aren’t we done? My hour was up five minutes ago.”

My leg bounced profusely.

I needed to run. Had been a minute since I felt the urge to run. Felt like I was going backward. I thought therapy was all about moving forward. Why in the fuck was I reverting? The past month and a half hadn’t been the greatest, but it had been a while since I felt like this. I didn’t like it. Didn’t like it at all. Just... really wanted the conversation to be over.

“Can I offer you a bit of advice?”

My phone chimed again. This time, instead of checking it, I shut the power off and stuffed it into my purse. “Of course; that’s what I’m paying you for, right?” I joked.

Always a joke or a laugh to hide the pain. How Naokiesque of me.

Oh! I could do that again. Since that day on the sidewalk with Chase, I had access to a mask again. Just the funny one.

“No actually. You’re paying me to help you heal. Listen, while I do appreciate the money I take my job very seriously. Your mental health is my top priority. It’s been...” She paused and looked down at her iPad. “Almost two months since your consult and we have yet to make any progress.”

“That’s really not the way I see it. I come in every Tuesday. If you don’t think we’ve made any progress then maybe I should find another therapist,” I snapped. “The fuck?—”

“Therapy isn’t a place to come to vent, Naoki. You talk. I listen. I ask questions, you avoid them. You talk more and then, I look up and your hour is up. And then we do it all over again in two days. I understand how hard it is, trust me I do. But I’m your therapist, Naoki. But I feel as if you’ve been using me as a diary instead. This only works if you’re open with me and?—”

“And what? I haven’t been open, Eboni? I’ve been very open.”

She nodded. “I know. You’ve been open. You’ve shared. A lot. And I have a lot to say, too. But you won’t let me get a word in. I understand the need to release but this is a counteractive relationship. You don’t pay me almost two hundred dollars and hour just to listen to you vent. I’m here to help and?—”

“I don’t need help,” I defensively interrupted. “I need to talk. Why does it matter? You’re getting paid right.”

Eboni drew her lips into her mouth and sat back against her chair. “It’s okay to need help, Naoki.”

I laughed and shook my head. Snatching my purse up from the couch, I stood. “I think this is my last session. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find a therapist who won’t mind making two hundred an hour just to listen to me talk.”

Eboni nodded. “I’m sure it won’t be. But that’s all you will be doing for the rest of your life. Talking and wasting your money. Until you find your why, you will always find yourself back in that cycle you thought you got out of. Either that or you’ll do what you’re doing now for the rest of your life. Running in place. Stuck. Drowning. Sinking. Whatever you want to call it—it’s all the same.”

I looked down at her with a frown. “What?”

She stood up and walked over to me. “Or,” She grabbed my hands. I tried to pull away, but she held them tighter. “You can let me help you.”

I cringed. Hated that word. I didn’t need help. I was okay.

She shook her head and her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite put a finger on. It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t disgust. It was something else. It didn’t make me cringe. Didn’t make me want to put up a wall or curse her out. It gave me comfort.

“Come here,” she said before she pulled me into a warm embrace.

And then I realized what it was.

It was empathy. Eboni empathized with me. She didn’t give me sympathy. The difference was, she could relate. She felt my pain. She was me. She knew what it felt like. In her arms, I felt heard. I felt like she knew. Like she had sat on a couch before too. Like she had sank, ran, hid, drowned, and been in cycle after cycle too.

“It’s okay to need help, Naoki. Let me help you. That beautiful family inside of the big house with the white picket fence you talked about, you can have it. I don’t know who told you, you couldn’t but you can. I don’t know who told you, you weren’t good enough but Naoki you are. Okay?” She pulled away from the hug and locked eyes with me. “Will you let me help you?”

Eboni.

Oh. She was such a sweetheart. She cared so much. I believed she did. I felt it in every word she spoke. Reminded me of Sienna that day at the water. Reminded me of myself when I talked to Sage. The hope they had for me was much like the hope I had for her. Useless. I didn’t know what they saw in me to make them think I was deserving of anything. It was almost as if Eboni hadn’t heard any of the shit I told her. Did she hear me when I said I fucked Denim for years knowing he had a wife? Did she hear the part when I said I’d been cursed since I was ten? Hm? Did she not hear me when I said God always reminded me when I forgot?

It went without fail.

She said I was sinking. Said I was drowning. Said I’d find myself back in that cycle. But she was wrong. I was free. Because I changed. I thought I did. I stopped. Stopped fucking Denim. Stopped fucking Saint. Didn’t have sex with Chase. Stayed open... just existed. Settled and existed. I played it safe. I thought I was on the right path.

With eyes full of tears, I smiled and nodded. “You can try.”

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