Chapter 7 #3
“What?” I asked. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
She looked up at me and gave me a reassuring look. “I’m just processing, Mahogany. That’s all. You left the house, on your birthday, after a big fight. How did that make you feel?”
“At ease, a little. There was still a lot of mental chatter. A lot of confusion. But… I was happy to be alone.”
Chanté stared at me a bit before sitting her iPad aside.
She rubbed her glossy lips together, took a deep breath and said, “Mahogany. What exactly do you want? All BS aside. Take me, as your therapist, off the table for a second. I ask because you…” she paused and sighed.
“The last time we spoke you and Duke were going to therapy. You were working on things, as you always are. Today, you tell me you walked away, just to return to jump start a cycle you’ve been complaining about since we met.
I just… I want to help. Okay? I would love to help.
But you keep running away from what’s right in your face. ”
Here we go.
“I don’t know what I want,” I said, fidgeting with the tassels on the ball. “I told you—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “I heard you. I hear you. But… Mahogany… I think you know exactly what you want. You’re just afraid to admit it. Afraid to step into the reality of it.”
I swallowed. “Here we go again with that. Look—”
“I’m being honest with you, Mahogany. We haven’t gotten too far because you won’t address the elephant in the room.
Fear. You’ve been with Duke since you were a child.
You don’t know what life without him looks like.
He’s cheated. Several times. Made you question your worth.
And you stayed because you thought you were supposed to.
Stayed because of the love you witnessed growing up.
You saw your parents thrive and you want that for your marriage.
But at what cost? You’re unhappy and have been for a very long time.
You have a hard time choosing you because you’ve never chosen you before.
Last week was the first time you did that and what happened?
You went back home to get right back on that merry-go-round you hate so much. ”
I was speechless.
Not because I was angry, but because I couldn’t talk through the tears running down my face.
Besides, there was nothing I could say. Chanté was right.
I was afraid. Very afraid. I had never chosen myself before.
Ever. Except for that one time by leave.
Crescent was right. My marriage and the history attached to it was sad.
Very sad. I was stuck in a cycle with a man I should have left a long time ago.
I just… I didn’t know how to get myself unstuck.
Well, I was trying to. We were trying. Trying and getting it right would end the cycle of getting on and off the merry-go-round, right?
Trying… going to therapy… truly working on us…
it would fix everything, and I wouldn’t have to choose me.
I could choose us. And… although what we had might’ve been a little sad, couldn’t I make it beautiful?
Couldn’t I really fight this time and make it work.
“I just want you to make decisions based off something other than fear, Mahogany. That’s all. Give me a reason for staying with him, other than being afraid of being without him. Which…” she softly laughed. “You’ll never admit to anyway.”
“Chanté,” I said through a deep breath as she handed me a few napkins. “I—” I paused and took another deep breath. “I am scared. I’m terrified. I know I shouldn’t make decisions based off fear. I’m… It’s not like that.”
“What is it like then, Mahogany?”
“He’s… Duke is my person, Chanté and before I walk away completely, I want to at least try.
I want to get in the ring with him, fully, and actually try.
I haven’t allowed myself to do that. I… at the first sign of actually peeling the Band-Aids off, I ran.
I got insecure and I ran. That’s,” I paused. “That’s not trying, is it?”
She didn’t say anything, so I continued.
“Anyway… I don’t think I’ve given us a fair chance. I,” I paused and scratched at my head. “I’m not ready yet.”
Chanté tapped her Apple pencil on her thigh and stared at me for a few seconds with her lips pulled into her mouth as if she was trying to choose her words carefully.
“You know why you haven’t stepped into the ring completely? Why you haven’t truly given you and Duke a fair chance? Because you can’t. Mentally and emotionally that guy… he hurt you. And you cannot heal in the place that broke you.”
The ride home was spent thinking about everything Chanté said.
Especially the part about not being able to heal in the place that broke me.
That would stay with me for a while. The whole session was spent talking about fear and how to move past it.
We didn’t even talk about Crescent and Judah.
Just about Duke which was why it was still so heavy on me.
I tried to move away from the conversation, but she wouldn’t let me, saying I was trying to run away from reality in which I was.
Although Chanté could be brutally honest, we didn’t just talk about me choosing myself and the benefits of it.
We talked about how to maneuver around the damage if staying with Duke was what I truly wanted.
We talked about forgiveness, not just on the spectrum of forgiving him but on forgiving me too.
Every version of myself that forgave him when I felt like I should have left.
For the parts me that struggled with loving myself.
So yeah, therapy was heavy as hell. I had a bottle of Caymus on chill, waiting for me, that I could not wait to get home to.
So just imagine my surprise when I pulled up at the house to see my mother parked where Duke usually was if he didn’t park in the garage. After the therapy session I’d just had, I did not want to deal with Eve. At all. I just wanted my wine, my blanket, and some solace.
With a deep sigh, I shifted the car in park and sat there a minute, trying to mentally prepare myself for the talk I knew she wanted to have.
Of course, I knew what she wanted—she was my mother and had been calling me every day trying to see me.
I knew it was only a matter of time before she pulled one of these moves.
She wanted to talk about what happened. I left my husband.
It was only for a day, but she’d see it as literally leaving him.
And Eve didn’t play that. She was thee Stepford wife.
And because she was one of those, she wouldn’t get it.
“This fucking lady,” I mumbled, as I grabbed my bag.
I got out of the car and headed up to the house. The sound of gospel music spilled out onto the porch, so I already knew what time it was. She was doing shit she had no business doing.
After unlocking the door, I stepped inside, coming out of my shoes.
I shook my head as she sang off key with Yolanda Adam’s about the battle being the Lord’s.
The smell of Pine Sol filled my nostrils, letting me know she was doing exactly what I thought she was doing when I heard the music.
Cleaning my fucking house. Did it need a good thorough clean?
Hell yeah. Did I want her to do it? Hell, did I even want her to see it?
Fuck no. She’d have something to say about that.
She’d study me, worry about me and make unnecessary comments.
I did not have time for Eve. My day was almost to an end; you think I wanted it to end with an argument with my mother?
I didn’t argue with my mother. Ever. But the type of time I was on lately, there was no telling how I’d handle her digging in my business. Was it my fault she had business to dig in, in the first place? Well kind of. Did that give her the right to dig? Not at all.
“Mommy!” Greeted Sparkle when I walked into the kitchen.
“Hey baby,” I spoke, with a grunt, as she jumped into my arms, wet shirt and all. She’d probably just finished helping my ma, who stood at the sink, with the dishes. “Hey ma. What you doin here? Cleaning my kitchen.”
“Cleaning your house,” she corrected, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I’ve been here for about two hours waitin’ on you. Made the kids a quick snack too. Why you working so late?”
Ugh. I could feel the judgment jumping off her body.
“I wasn’t at work—I had therapy.”
“Therapy?” She sucked her teeth. “Chile, if you don’t go to the Lord.”
Instead of responding to that, I just said went back to the topic of her cleaning my damn house.
“You didn’t have to clean up, ma,” I told her, before fishing my phone from my pocket to text Duke to let him know my momma was over and asked him to grab food because I forgot.
“Yes, I did. You need the help,” she said, pivoting, drying her hands on a towel.
She approached me with opened arms and hugged me.
After kissing me on the cheek, she whispered in my ear, telling me we needed to talk.
I didn’t ask about what. Didn’t want to do that in front of Sparkle.
Because knowing her, she’d say exactly what she wanted to talk about, and I wanted my kids to forget about it.
“I know. Come on,” I said with a sigh. “I’ll finish the kitchen after,” I lied.
I was trying to get her the hell out of my house. Especially since Duke would be coming home with fast food, giving her something else to talk shit about.
She nodded. “Mmmh. Give me a couple minutes. You got so much caked up mess on this backsplash and—”
“I will get to it. Don’t worry about it,” I interrupted as I gestured for her to follow me to my office. “I know you got better things to do. Let’s gon’ and talk.”