CHAPTER ELEVEN #2
“I’m not expecting anything,” he said calmly. “Just honesty and effort. If you don’t have either to give today, we can sit in silence until the session’s over.” She looked at him, and much to her surprise, he wasn’t giving smug, wasn’t judging, wasn’t even pushing. He was just… present.
Which aggravated her more than it should’ve. “Yeah, so that email.” She leaned back, crossing one leg over the other.Najee exhaled slowly, resting his hands on the desk.
“That email didn’t come from me, Ms. Brown. It came from legal. I approved it though. So if it rubbed you the wrong way, that’s on me too.” Jackie blinked, caught off guard by his honesty.
“Oh, so you agree it sounded like bullshit?”
“I know it could’ve been explained better.”
“Could’ve been?” she scoffed. “Doc, it read like a court order.”
“You’re right,” he said. “The language was stiff, and that was my bad. I wanted you informed, not overwhelmed.” Jackie tilted her head.
“So, this breakout session isn’t just parenting class by another name?”
“Not unless you volunteer for it.”
She let out a short laugh. “You think you slick.”
“Not slick. Just transparent.” He leaned forward slightly. “I know how it feels when decisions are made about your child without you being included. That’s not how I operate.” He paused.
“You signed a lot of consent forms at your last visit, Jackie. Those are legally binding documents that give me permission to treat Max. I just wanted you informed about your son’s care.”
She shifted in her seat, quiet now because she felt salty.
Here this man is, offering you a seat at the table, and you were ready to flip it over on his ass because you didn’t understand the assignment. Great job, Jackie. She swallowed the embarrassment.
Low key, she owed this man an apology, but he wasn’t getting it today. “You are always this calm when folks come in here with an attitude?” she asked. He shrugged. “It’s not personal. Most people don’t usually come to see me on their best day,” he said, in no rush to fill the silence.
Jackie could feel some of the fight she carried in there start to ease.
“I just got a lot going on,” she said finally.
“I figured.” He responded, eyes meeting hers before returning to the legal pad he was writing on.
She waited for him to ask more. To dig. But he didn’t.
Instead, he said, “Let’s just start with Max. ”
She exhaled slowly through her nose, arms still crossed. “What about him?”
Najee didn’t answer right away. He tilted his head slightly, like he was trying to find the safest way through her minefield. “Tell me who he is to you.” She frowned. “My son, duh.”
“Obviously,” he said with a faint smile.
“But who is Maximus when he’s not fighting in class or shutting down during group activities?
Who is Max at home?” Jackie stared at the books behind him, anywhere but his face.
“He’s Fat Daddy,” she said finally. “My baby is sweet. Too sweet sometimes. He always in my face, trying to make me laugh and asking a million questions. And when he aint doing that, he’s showing me YouTube videos of kids opening toys he already got.
” She let out a small chuckle, then swallowed it down.
“He likes slime. Like… a lot. That sticky-ass kind that gets in everything.
His hair, the carpet, my whole damn soul.
“That earned a small smile from Najee, but he didn’t interrupt.
“He even got me making it now,” she added.
“Experimenting with new colors, textures, glitter, the whole nine.”
“Wait, you know how to make slime from scratch?” he asked, one brow lifting. Jackie smirked. “Boy, I used to cook crack. I can make a lil’ slime.” Najee blinked, then laughed, quiet but genuine. “That might be the best answer I’ve heard all week.” Jackie tried not to smile but failed.
“Well, don’t put that in your notes, Dr. Nigel.”
“I’m writing it down right now,” he said, pen moving across the page.
“Mother demonstrates adaptive creativity under stress.” She rolled her eyes.
“You really gonna write that?” He looked up, amused. “You’ll never know.”
Their eyes met, just a second too long. And something in her chest shifted. Not enough to name.
And damn sure not enough to trust. But enough to feel. Just then, the air between them soften before either of them could do anything about it. Jackie broke eye contact first.
Najee cleared his throat. “Sounds like a seven-year-old.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “He’s a handful. But he’s not a bad kid.” Her voice dropped.
“He’s just… a little boy who misses his brother. That’s all.”
“Marcus Jr.,” Najee said. She nodded. “How long has it been since they saw each other?”
“A little over two years,” she whispered. “His father moved him down South.”
“Your ex.”
“My curse.” That came out sharper than she meant.
Najee didn’t react. “He lets us talk on the phone sometimes,” she said letting out a small breath.
“FaceTime audio. But it’s not the same, it’s not enough. Not for me. Not for Max.”
Najee leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.
“That’s a lot to carry. For both of you.”
“I don’t get to fall apart,” she said, wiping under her glasses.
“I can’t. If I fall apart, Max don’t eat. Max don’t bathe. Max don’t feel safe.”
“And what about you?” Najee asked quietly. “What do you feel?”
Jackie let out a bitter laugh. “Tired. I feel fucking tired.” He didn’t interrupt.
“Like today,” she continued, her voice rough. “I got this text from an unknown number. Three pictures. Marcus Junior in a cap and gown. It was from my son’s stepmom. She probably thought she was doing me a solid sending them because his father never would’ve.” Her throat tightened.
“But it fucked me up,” she said, voice cracking.
“I lost my shit and cried for hours.” Jackie said taking a shaky breath.
“But I still had to pull my shit together, come in here, meet with you… and try to be present. Still gotta get Max from school, help him with homework, bathe him, feed him, and try to memorize GED formulas so I can stop feeling like I’m some kind of fuckin’ statistic.
” words tumbled out fast and unguarded. But they were true.
All of it. “I’m just tired,” she whispered again.
“And no one ever asks me how I’m doing. Everybody wants something from me, and I just…
” Her voice cracked. “I just want my son back. Both of them. In the same house. Safe.” The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy.
It was still. Like the room was holding space for everything she had just said.
Najee’s voice, when it came, was soft and steady.
“You deserve a soft place to land, Jackie.” Something in her chest tightened.
Because nobody had ever said that to her before. Not like that. Not like they meant it.
She blinked, trying to play it off, but it didn’t work.
“Even women like you,” he added. Her guard snapped back up, automatic.
“Women like me?”
“Women who’ve been through hell but still get up to make slime, cut fruit, and make a house feel like love. Women who hold it down even when nobody’s holding them.”
That was it. The crack. The part of her she kept sealed tight shifted under the weight of his words.
And for once, she didn’t have a comeback.
She just sat there, lips trembling, glasses off now, her eyes full of everything she had been holding in for too long.
“You think I’m doing okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The question felt heavier than it should have.
Like it mattered more than she wanted it to.
Najee nodded slowly. “I think you’ve been surviving,” he said.
And for a second, she felt seen in a way that made her uncomfortable.
“But you deserve more than survival, Jackie.”
This time… his words reached her. Deep in her spirit.
Because survival was all she knew, and for the first time in a long time… She didn’t know what to do with the idea of anything more.