4. Jawaan
Two Weeks Later
Journal Entry #2
I don't know why I'm nervous about this appointment. I'm a thirty-one-year-old man with more issues than airport security during a critical weather event. I should have been made an appointment with this lady, although it's hard to admit that your problems are more significant and greater than you can handle. No matter how much I know Kyce and Kayshon have enjoyed talking to this woman, I struggle to lay my cards on the table. Having to face not only my traumatic past regarding my birth but I'd also have to deal with the skeletons I tried to bury in the Gardner's backyard. Seeing Rema's ass not long ago had me mentally out of sorts because my dick wanted to see if she still had the ability to make me cum like a geyser. Yet my mind wanted to scrub every dirty deed I did with her from my existence. The war between my dick and brain is really why I made the appointment with this head doctor. Oh, and the beauty from two weeks ago. That's an analysis for another day, though.
"All right, God. I'm going to this appointment, but if this woman doesn't say the right things, it'll be my first and last time fooling with her."
Heading to the bathroom to handle my hygiene and get ready for the upcoming appointment with Dr. Letitia Baxter, I attempt to shift my focus from the words I put on the blank page of my journal. Writing my thoughts isn't something I ever saw myself doing, but I trust that Mama Lo knows what she's talking about now.
"Alexa, play Kathy Taylor radio on Pandora," I call out after entering the bathroom and starting my shower.
"Kathy Taylor radio from Jawaan's Pandora..."
"Well, all right, Alexa girl. I can get with this," I say, bobbing my head when an unfamiliar song plays with a nice beat.
?
God is.
God is my everything.
?
My body moves to the beat with the water cascading over me, and for a minute, I groove to the song before singing along to the catchy lyrics. Thanks to Ms. Aretha, I have more than rap and R&B stations on Pandora. I also found that I love old-school gospel with a churchy feel that penetrates my spirit, which led to Ms. Aretha suggesting this particular station. Grabbing my washcloth, I squeeze my body wash on the fabric, lather it, and clean my body, feeling lighter and energized for whatever the day brings. Depending on how this counseling session goes, I'm planning to go by the hospital to see Little Man and spend about an hour with him so he and I can get acquainted. If my mood is sour after the session, I'll go to work to check in with my team. Cybersecurity can often lift my spirits because it's an exciting field to be in and one that so many abuse in deceitful ways. It makes me appreciate having the ability to block, prevent, or stop deceptive tactics.
Turning off the water fifteen minutes later, my shoulders bounce when I hear the song playing through the speakers.
?
I don't know how God's gonna.
I don't know when, when He's gonna fix it.
?
"Ooh, I need to know who this one is by so I can cop it. I love the vibes of this song," I say, wrapping the towel around my body while moving quickly to my phone to pull up my Alexa app. "Brenda Waters...'Victory'. Bet."
Nearly Two Hours Later
"I've been told that icebreakers are the way to go in these situations, so do you mind if I test the theory? I'm sure you've heard about me since you're in sessions with my brothers, but I know nothing about you. So, for my comfort's sake, I want to see how well these theorists know the studies they talk about or conduct. Do you mind?" I ask.
I have been staring around the office of Dr. Letitia Baxter for the last ten minutes, and while I can appreciate the peaceful music playing, I need to settle my mind. Sure, the intimate vibes from the low mood lighting are cool and probably therapeutic, but a man like me isn't accustomed to this type of atmosphere.
"Sure thing. My job is to make sure you're comfortable so we can have a mutually beneficial exchange. So, I'm good with an icebreaker if that'll help you," Dr. Baxter says.
"Okay. First, do we need to stick with the stuffy title, Dr. Baxter? I respect you and everything, but you're about to learn everything but how often a week I take a shit, so I'm not really feeling the formality. It makes this feel robotic, and I need to bring you down to a level of my homie or something."
The smirk on Dr. Baxter's lips changes her countenance, making her brown face tinge red, causing my lips to upturn.
"I'm good with whatever you want to call me."
"Bet. I'll think of something for you to slide into my female homie slot. In the meantime, let's get personal for a second. How many bunions have you got? Your feet look great in those heels, but I've seen some of the most diabolical toes known to womankind when the red bottoms come off."
Letitia's laughter echoes around the room, causing me to join her because I'm sure it's not the question she would expect in this setting.
"We're going to get along just fine but since we're going to be friends and all. See for yourself. Bunions, where?" she asks, slipping her feet out of her heels and allowing me to see her stocking-clad feet free of blemishes.
"I see you. Thanks. Now, let's get into why I'm here," I say, smiling.
Dr. Baxter holds her index finger up while putting her shoes back on before sanitizing her hands and grabbing the notepad and pen from the table beside her chair.
"All right. Go ahead."
Taking a deep breath, I square my shoulders and release the first of many burdens I've been carrying since I was old enough to understand them.
"I am the baby Sheryl and Zack Young stole from Grant Medical Center in Columbus, Ohio, on November 3, 1994. My birth mother sent me back to the nursery to take a nap, never knowing it would be her last time seeing me as a newborn. The crazy thing about it is that no one, including me, knew I wasn't Sheryl and Zack's child until it was time for them to enroll me in school. What I knew was that my parents loved me, cared for me, spent time with me, and gave me everything a kid could ask for. The hardest thing for me to get over once their lie caught up with them, and even now, is the loss of Sheryl's presence in my life. No matter what anyone said about how much she isn't, she was my mother."
My chest rises and falls, causing me to stop talking to gather myself when the heavy emotions of my torrid past escape my lips.
"No matter how long it's been, a part of me still misses them because they shaped the first five years of my existence. Jail might have been appropriate for those who felt strongly about their offense, but I longed for things to return to normal. Being returned to my birth parents was the worst mistake the city of Columbus could have ever made. Jennifer might have been responsible for my birth, but she and Jared were two of Satan's imps and the worst alternative for Sheryl and Zack's parentage I could have ever experienced."
Hanging my head, I close my eyes to see a grainy image of a smiling Sheryl surface, causing my chest to tighten. Longing for a woman who didn't give birth to and, in fact, kidnapped me should be wrong. Yet, Sheryl had been the mother my young mind would never allow Jennifer to replace. Even though the Spiveys wanted me to hate the Youngs and embrace them as my rightful parents, I felt like I would hurt the Youngs if I did.
"I can't imagine the burdens or feelings of abandonment you felt by being snatched out of the only home you knew. I can also see from your tone and body language that it's something you haven't been able to come to terms with," Dr. Baxter says.
"How? Wrong or not... Sheryl was my mother. Jennifer missed the opportunity to mend the fractures in my heart because of what happened, which made me long for Sheryl even more. No one takes the time to talk to the child affected by the crime. They only focus on returning the child to their rightful parents. For two years, I lived in the shadow of the newborn the Spiveys lost instead of appreciating the opportunity to create something new to erase the stain of the old."
My lip trembles, my shoulders sag from the heaviness filling them, and my eyes glisten with unshed tears, causing despondency to creep into my mood. The uncomfortable feeling coursing through my body activates my flight or fight mechanism, making me desperate to change the topic.
"I once broke up with a woman after I got more than her nectar while infiltrating her folds with my tongue. I'm not sure which of us was more embarrassed after I nearly choked on a shit-covered piece of toilet paper she'd unknowingly gotten stuck," I disclose, lowly chuckling.
Poor Dr. Baxter's eyes widened, and her hand hovered over the notepad. My eyes connected with her because I was sure she was trying to catch up with the switch I had just made. Yet humor was necessary when pain attempted to choke or trip me up.
"Uh, I-mm... that's something," Dr. Baxter stumbles over her words, causing a deep chuckle to escape my mouth.
"Now, if we're going to be homies, you're gonna have to know when to hold and fold them when dealing with me, Letitia. I'm a man with many layers similar to a clove of garlic... tricky to peel but an added bonus to a lacking recipe."
"Duly noted, Jawaan. That's our time for today."
"Bet. When do I need to come back? Or better yet, how often do I need to come?"
"While I would like for you to come see me weekly, you're in control of the frequency of these sessions. So, what are you comfortable with?"
"Say less, Letitia. I'll see you the same time and day next week."
An Undetermined Time Later
"Now how her pretty ass grinning in this nigga's face after holding my hand not many days ago? Women stay talking about men playing games and shit when their sneaky asses got more options than Santa's elves."
Despite the emotions still plaguing my body after my session with Letitia, I brought my ass to Shadow Stew Memorial. Making a pit stop in the cafeteria to grab some water and seeing Ms. Zurmani sitting at a table with one of the hospital employees sours my mood. My response is farfetched because I have no claim to this woman.
"Is this all for you, sweetie?" the older black woman at the cashier station asks, pulling my eyes from Zurmani and the dude wearing a white coat.
"Yes, ma'am," I respond, smiling.
I should go over there and bust up their little meeting.
Do it! Do it!
The devil on my shoulder shouts, jumping up and down, fueling me to do something that isn't in my character, especially since Zurmani isn't mine.
Yet! Go tell her why buddy ain't meant for her.
Grabbing my receipt from the cashier, I walk in the direction of Zurmani and Dr. No to make my presence known. Zurmani's ass is only supposed to be here giving care to our charge, not moonlighting with a man who isn't me.
"What's good, Mrs. Young? I didn't know our nuptials allowed us to entertain nonfactors. Why are you grinning in my wife's face?" I ask, staring at the light-skinned dude whose face turns red.
"I-I—uh, you didn't say you were married," the doctor says, staring back and forth between Zurmani and me.
Zurmani's face flushes, and she pushes her glasses higher on her blemish-free toffee face.
"Oh, so you mean to tell me that you had our baby, and instead of having your ass up there tending to our son, you're considering your options? What the fuck did I do to hurt you, boo? I told you I would eat your pussy after we took care of our son. Damn, your ass is foul for this shit," I continue.
"Damn. I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't mean to cause any problems. I will be praying for your baby," the doctor says, standing and walking out of the cafeteria without grabbing his drink or food.
"What is wrong with you, fool? We aren't married, nor do we have a baby." Zurmani's eyes tighten while a frown forms, and she stares at me like I shot Bambi.
"How's your day been? Is Little Man straight? I was on my way up to see him," I quiz, taking the empty seat the doctor vacated.
"What the hell? You've got to be fucking kidding me. I know good and go?—"
"Whoa. Slow your roll, Tigress. I don't play that blasphemy shit, and if God is going to be the third cord in our union, I don't need you pissing Him off," I remark, cutting her off while holding my hand up with my back leaning against the chair and my eyes rake over Zurmani lustfully.
Zurmani has the clearest, smoothest toffee skin I have ever had the privilege of seeing. Her full cheeks are cute and put me in the mind of a chipmunk. Her plump lips have me envisioning sucking on them to make them swell even more than they do naturally. Yet, Zurmani's best asset is her almond-shaped dark orbs, which allow me to see the kind woman who gave my heart a jumpstart during our first connection. The glasses covering her eyes are an enhancement that I appreciate despite dating any visually challenged women in the past. I also love Zurmani's full blonde and brown curls that seem to round out her feminine features.
"Who the fuck are you calling a Tigress?"
"Your fake mad ass. I love the blonde and brown in your hair, so I'd say the name is fitting, wouldn't you?"
"You know what... I don't have time for this." Standing up, Zurmani grabs her purse from the neighboring chair and leaves the table.
Mm. Maybe I need to add Zurmani's bountiful ass to my list of favorites. Little mama is working with some heavy artillery from the back.
"Aye, Tigress. Are you gonna meet me upstairs or at home?" I yell to her retreating form before laughing when her left hand comes up, and she flicks me up without slowing her strides or acknowledging me further.
Hm, is she the help you mentioned sending God? If so... I accept your will.