Page 9 of Smoke N' Stroke

Sighing I agreed. I hadn’t been home to Philadephia since I started this job. I missed my mom, dad, and even my spoiled younger sister who made it her job to borrow money every chance she got. She was still my sister. My only one and I loved her.

“Okay, I’m headed to the garage now. I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

“Okay, baby.”

I slipped my phone in my bag and pulled my keys out.

It took five steps out into the garage to realize my mistake and wish that I had listened to the know-it-all Zaire.

My patient, Terry Donovan, whom I’d been concerned about due to his spiraling behaviors, stood beside my car wearing a soiled t-shirt and wrinkled blue jeans. His thick dark hair was matted against his scalp and his usually dark brown skin had a grayish hue to it. His dark brown eyes were maniacal, darting all over the place, on the concrete, the walls, the few cars in spaces, but scarcely on me. It was clear now—he had been off his meds for quite some time. Now his erratic calls and voice messages made sense.

I tried to think fast and pull my crisis intervention training into my brain. I looked over at the emergency phone near the door I exited and knew if I were to make it there in enough time to lift the receiver, he’d still be able to pounce me. My cell phone was out of reach because instead of practicing what I preach to my patients surrounding the dangers of not having your phone and keys in hand, it was inside of my Marc Jacobs tote.

Zaire was the person to tell me and Sheena on day one to make sure we carried our phones with us to the car in case we needed to make a quick call forhelp. I rolled my eyes then because he thought he was Superman and could save all women from themselves. Now he was who I wished for more than anyone else. I knew Terry would more than likely avoid escalating to assault if he saw the six foot three-inch-tall man. But Zaire wasn’t beside me and that was my fault. I thought I knew better than he did. I incorrectly assumed he was trying to control me when in fact he was looking out for me. It was at times like this I wondered about feminism and whether it ever helped in situations like these. Clearly, mendidhave some advantage. I mean, aside from me becoming some expert in kung fu or being G.I. Jane, the likelihood of me being about to gain any level of control in getting myself out of this using my physicality was null and void. So, I did what any woman in my situation should do, I used my brain and hoped wit and a little sweetness would smoothe him over. My training said it was too late for that, but my training also told me there was no end until the end.

“Hey, Terry. You doing okay?”

“What the fuck do you think?”

“I tried reaching you back at the number you left with the answering service, and they said you hadn’t been around in a long time. I also spoke with yourmother today. She said she’d have you call me if she spoke to you. Is that why you’re here? If you’d like to talk, we could head inside the building right now and talk.”

He seemed to think about whether he wanted that. I so dearly hoped he wanted that.

“You head doctors think you know everything and got all the answers and don’t know shit.”

At this moment I had to agree with Terry. Me believing I knew everything got me in the mess I was in currently.

“You’re not wrong but that’s why we work together. I’m only a guide. You know you better than I do so if at any point you’re uncomfortable with the way we’re handling things, you can speak up and we’ll find a better way.”

His crazed eyes watched mine and the tip of his knife fell towards the cement. I almost took a breath and thought I’d help to de-escalate the issue. Almost.

“Nah, nah. You’re still playing with my head. Remember you said you didn’t know if you could help me anymore.”

His hand raised again pointing the sharp metal in my direction. It was then I realized he was prepared to use it on me. He didn’t come here to talk and nothing I said would deter him fromcompleting his mission. Somehow, I had failed him and that bothered me more than the possibility of me losing my life. I shut my eyes and thought of my mom and dad and my annoying teenage sister— my parents’ oops baby. I thought of my career and how it had become everything to me after Eric broke my heart by cheating on me with that woman he met online. I thought about how helping people, helped me. And then I thought about how being here and meeting Zaire was one of the highlights of my life even if I fought tooth and nail to not allow it to show. Acceptance of my circumstances took over. I might die right now and if I did, everything would be okay, I thought.

“I’m so sorry I failed you, Terry.”

Before he could respond a loud bang behind me showed Zaire holding up a steel bat that I recognized from usually being stored in the closet behind the security desk. Raheem kept it there in case he needed to scare someone off and avoid using his firearm. Zaire cracked the bat against the cement wall again, and Terry, now realizing he was outnumbered, ran towards the garage exit just as the sounds of sirens roared in the distance. I felt my legs begin to give out from relief helping me to understandwhy women always fainted in the movies. It must be the adrenaline dropping.

“Nala, baby, are you okay?”

His arms pulled me into his hard chest and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils as I took in gulps of air. I thought I was about to die and the fact that the scare was over dominated my thoughts. Not enough to ignore Zaire calling me baby, but enough to choose not to address it.

His hands were on the sides of my face, brushing my hair away from my cheeks. His eyes searched mine back and forth as I nodded. The realization of just what could and would have happened washed over me. Tears welled in my eyes as my throat tightened. If he hadn’t shown up, I would be gone.

“How did you know?” I figured with me going the opposite direction there was no way he’d even know I was gone.

“I knew you’d snuck out and I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m happy you checked. Thank you, Zaire.”

He nodded just as a police cruiser pulled into the garage and stopped in front of us.

“Ma’am, were you the person that called nine-one-one?”

I shook my head and nodded towards Zaire. “No,he did. But Terry wanted to assault me. Please be as gentle as you can with him. I suspect he’s off his meds but when he’s on them he’s as sweet as can be. Truly, this is not like him.”

I knew how things could escalate and Terry would become another name on a wall, or a hashtag used on social media, all because he was mentally ill and needed some direction and balance.

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