2. Is it Healing?
Chapter 2
Is it Healing?
Mia Robinson
T his is stupid, I thought to myself as I sat in front of a child’s birthday cake.
It was Onna’s fourth birthday, and I was struggling.
Nathan, my ex, had allowed me to raise his daughter for the first two and a half years of her life.
The day he left still replayed in my mind, as if it had happened last week.
“Mia, listen, I know you weren’t expecting this, but I can’t keep pretending to be a family with you. Onna doesn’t deserve a broken household. Latrice and I never tried to be a family but it’s time we explored the possibility,” Nathan said.
I stood in the doorway, eyes filled with tears, my vision blurred as I watched him zip his suit jackets into his black wardrobe bag.
“Latrice and I would prefer you to stop contacting me and Onna. Having her call you mom was out of line, Mia,” Nathan continued as he gripped his luggage.
The air seeped from my lungs as I tried to conjure up the words to defend myself.
Onna calling me momma wasn’t something I had coached her to do.
During his visitation time, he put the sole responsibility of caring for Onna on me.
When Latrice needed a babysitter every weekend, she called me and now she was offended Onna called me mom?
Warm tears landed on my skin as he closed the space between us.
“Mia, I’m asking you to respect my family’s privacy at this moment. I’m sure some man will come along and you’ll figure out your irregular period situation. One day when you finally have a kid you’ll understand,” he said as he squeezed by me.
A new set of warm tears pulled me back to the present as I stared at the smash cake.
My therapist encouraged me to grieve her birthday as part of my healing process.
I opened the number four candle and sighed, placing it in the center.
Lighting the candle, the light flickered, and I closed my eyes and thought of the many birthdays we held at this same table.
My favorite was her second birthday.
I held her in my lap in our matching outfits.
My parents and Nathan surrounded the table and sang “Happy Birthday.” Before the song ended, she pulled the cake on us in her attempt to lick the icing.
A tear fell down the side of my face, landing on my hand.
Opening my eyes, I begin to sing.
“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday...” I sang between my sniffles.
I blew out the candle, not being able to finish the song, and tossed it in the trash.
“It’s Mia invading your podcast airwaves. We are the number one go to for the culture and sports news. We are back with my guest Rex Lyles, the starting pitcher for Houston’s Fire Bombers. Before we close out this interview, tell fans what to expect for the rest of the season?”
“Come out and support the Fire Bombers. This is the year we are bringing the Series home,” Rex said.
Scott added the sound of missiles and horns in the background.
“You heard it here. Rex Lyles said the Series trophy is coming home to Houston. As always, follow me on all social media platforms. Remember, I will be on set at USPN Sunday morning for the draft breakdown. We will be dissecting the Armadillos and their selections,” I said.
Scott threw me a thumbs up and I removed my headset careful not to get my hair tangled.
“Thank you, Rex. The interview was great,” I said, and he gave his signature smile.
He should inquire about a toothpaste commercial with his perfect dimples and straight teeth.
I could see why my friend settled down.
Rex stood at 6’3 with a slim muscular build, clean-cut face with a caramel skin tone and green eyes.
The one strike I held against him was his relationship with my ex, Nathan.
He was both his agent and cousin.
I had no business dating a thirty-two-year-old man at twenty-one.
Things were good in the first year and a half, then the mask came off.
He brought a child into my life just to snatch her away, leaving nothing behind but chaos.
I followed Rex out of the booth and into the hallway, where we met Stacie and Addison.
“Thank you, Stacie, for allowing me to borrow your man,” I said, and she rolled her brown eyes.
Stacie has a sultry, sensational appearance she played into with her fashion and her classic, deep-red lipstick.
The warm, golden-brown hue of her skin made everything pop.
Being 5’9 with a full but medium curvy figure, she attracted the wandering eyes of men.
What defined her was the kick ass attitude and the confidence she carried.
Being raised by a father who didn’t accept excuses could give you a hardened exterior.
“Mia, your voice is as smooth as silk over the mic,” Addison said as he stood next to Stacie.
She bounced her brows a few times, and I held back my annoyance.
As Rex’s new publicist, Addison tagged along, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
Throughout the interview, we made eye contact several times, but I diverted my gaze.
“I owe it all to Mr. Carter’s Intro to Speech 101,” I said and turned toward Stacie.
I smirked in her direction, hoping she’d step in on my behalf, but she answered with a half-smile.
With a clear conscience, I could assume Stacie asked him to tag along for this sole purpose.
“Your voice is seductive, but so are your eyes,” Addison said.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing yet another half-hearted smile.
It had been a little over two years since the breakup, and my body rejected any flirtatious banter.
The rawness of how Rex left and losing Onna coated my heart with pain.
“All right, Stacie, I will let you guys leave. Scott and I need to get the polished version of the interview ready. The draft also comes on tonight,” I said.
My best friend squinted in my direction, but I dismissed her gesture and motioned everyone up front.
The last time I allowed her to hook me up with a man, I lost myself.
I finally found Mia again, and she was busy building her podcast and media career.
Stacie
Mia, someone wants your number.
I sat my phone down and rested my head against the mustard gold tufted headboard.
Being bothered with a man wasn’t on the forefront of my mind, and I needed Stacie to understand my position.
My laptop was the only thing welcomed to the other side of my bed.
When I needed a sexual release, my trusty vibrator, Mr.
Batteries, got the job done.
Unlike Nathan, he didn’t complain about trying new things.
The sound of my phone vibrating against my leg pulled at my attention again.
Stacie
I know you ain’t ignoring me.
I have your address and the passcode for your alarm.
A hard giggle left me, causing my upper body to shake.
Me
Let me call Kindness and have her reset it for me.
The three buttons jumped on the screen and left again.
I imagined how fast her fingers were moving to tell me off and I continued to laugh.
Stacie
And I’ll make her give it to me.
I need access to my friends.
Me
Why?
I do the same thing every day.
Reshaping my life involved setting routines to create emotional safe places.
After being with someone with constant mood changes and a secret life, stability was a luxury.
Knowing my day entailed sports news and recording on my podcast soothed me.
According to my mother I’m a serial killer's dream because I keep the same routine.
Stacie
Can I give Addison your phone number?
I clenched my jaw at her question. Stacie and I held two different definitions of getting over a man. While I was curled in bed crying, she took it upon herself to create me an online dating profile. Stacie didn’t believe in wallowing, but moving forward. I shut the profile down and started therapy.
Stacie
You don’t have to marry him. Spend his money and let him make your toes curl.
Slapping my hand over my mouth, I fought my urge to respond with laughter. Stacie said whatever came to her mind but there were two problems with her reasoning. I didn’t need the money, and my sex drive was nonexistent. Hell, my vibrator only saw action maybe once a month.
Me
Girl boss, and I’m not in the mood for sex.
“In an unprecedented move, the Houston Armadillos jumped back into the first round and selected Marcus Allen. This guy is a stud. He is fast, versatile and sources are telling me Bryce Prescott may have influenced this pick,” McConnell said.
My mouth parted at the news of this power move. The broadcast flashed a picture of Marcus, and a soft moan escaped my mouth. He was as handsome as a movie star with his main character sex symbol energy. His chocolate skin, slim muscular build, taper-fade box beard and height had my full attention. Watching him being embraced by an older woman and child put a smile on my face. The draft had just released another twenty-two-year-old millionaire to the streets of Houston. Some unlucky girl will have her heart broken.
“Doug Jordan, I don’t know what you’re doing, but all eyes are on the Armadillos,” Jerry, the announcer, said.
“This move has made Houston a contender. I’m saying it right now,” McConnell said.
A highlight reel of Marcus appeared on the screen. He held the speed the Armadillos needed, and it gave Bryce a second go-to option. Instead of responding to Stacie’s text, I messaged Kindness.
Me
You or Mr. Jordan?
Kindness
Me. Bryce needs another weapon. I want that Elite Bowl.
Me
Mr. Jordan is going to be pissed.
Kindness
Blocked him for the night and Mom signed off. I’m going after Roundtree next.
Me
Good choice.
Smoke was probably exiting Mr. Jordan’s, the team CEO, ears with Kindness controlling the draft. Realistically, there was nothing he could do about it. Kindness and Serena were the owners and our hometown football team needed a shakeup. With the number one wide receiver marrying the quarterback’s fiancée, this season could be up in the air. Kindness often came off as Mother Earth, but she knew her football.
Kindness: Please text Stacie and give the man your phone number.
I clenched my phone tighter at the message before I toggled over to Stacie’s thread.
Stacie
What about a double date?
Me
No . . . No . . . and No
I placed my phone down, determined not to give in to her suggestion, but the screen flashed.
Stacie
It’s a go. We’re going to have a good time.
“Welcome. It’s Madison Reed here with my guest co-host, Mia Robinson, and this is The Sports Shakeup . We are going to open the show by grading the Houston Armadillos. During the Football League draft, the Armadillos selected wide receiver Marcus Allen, Keyshawn Barnes at running back, Josh Roundtree at left tackle, and Danny Taylor. My question to you, Mia, is what grade do you give the Armadillos?” Madison said.
The Sports Shakeup had the best set at USPN with the panoramic view of downtown Houston in the background. The studio set adorned in bright red and orange decor energized me to talk about sports. I pitched the pilot program of an all-women’s sportscast to my dad, the owner of the Universal Sports Premium Network, and he green-lit the project.
“Madison, I’m going to give them a B. The last two seasons, Doug Jordan has been aggressive in the draft. This draft says the Armadillos want to contend for the Elite Bowl. They addressed the concerns of the offense. Adding Marcus Allen opposite Vick Landry, with Keyshawn in the backfield, gives them options. With a solid running game, it opens up the passing game, which keeps the defense off the field. Danny is a solid shutdown corner. I believe they made the right moves,” I said to my co-host.
Madison turned to the camera and disagreed, “Mia, the Armadillos are almost last in the League in stopping the run. Yes, they address the cornerback bleed but their defense has significant holes. The two draft picks they traded to get back in the first round for Marcus could have been used for defensive players,” she argued.
I wanted to disagree, but my reasoning would have highlighted the elephant standing in the Armadillos locker room. Vick stealing Bryce’s fiancée and marrying her in the off season put the team in a sticky situation. It’s fair to say their relationship was probably not in a positive place. However, players’ personal lives held no business on the anchor’s table. We are here to analyze the on-the-field play. With Bryce and Vick possibly not on good terms, Kindness made the correct decision. No one had heard from Bryce since last season and the team was not sure of his head space. The connection they held could be in jeopardy.
“I disagree. The Armadillos got it right,” I said as I reshuffled my stat sheet.
Madison and I argued our points for two hours before our producers counted us down.
“Join me, Madison Reed, every Sunday on The Sports Shakeup .”
“And that’s a wrap,” the producers said.
As the producers were removing our mics I noticed my father standing in the shadows. He wore the same proud expression he had when I decided to major in journalism.
“Thank you, Mia, for vouching for me and being my first guest,” Madison said and shook my hand.
“No problem and I will be back after the Armadillos run over Carolina,” I said, and we shared a laugh.
Approaching my father, I extended my arms for a hug. “You were wonderful. Built for television. The screen adored your warm brown skin. Mia, you were glowing,” he said.
Clarence Robinson had always rained positive praises on me, and I missed it. He couldn’t accept my relationship with Nathan, and it created a wedge between us. After the breakup, he wanted to kick my ex’s ass, but Mom talked him down. Nathan accused him of not highlighting the players he represented in a positive light on the network. With us dominating the sports outlets, negative press could tank your stock. I couldn’t prove Dad was involved, but after a few players fired Nathan, they received better coverage from USPN.
“Thank you, Daddy. Are we going to lunch?” I asked.
“Of course. We have reservations at Steve’s,” he said as we walked down the hallway.
My father was a clean-cut man standing 6’1, with almond brown skin, and an average build. Growing up, he was more in shape but had since abandoned his workout routine. Trendy, my mother, loved him beyond words and if she said he was handsome, no other word mattered. I’d had a front-row seat to her raining affirmations on him and getting jealous of women. My father wore the biggest smile with her on his arm, something I used to want. Now, I preferred to be alone.
“I’m glad to have you back,” my dad said as he pulled me closer.
“Me too, Dad,” I said as we approached the elevator.
I sat in the parking lot of Dr. Choice office several minutes early. With Houston’s traffic, my arrival time was unpredictable. My therapist shared the office building with other practices, including a family care clinic. At first, my heart was broken seeing pregnant women exit the building. After Nathan brought Onna home, I wouldn’t stay unless we agreed to create our own family. I owed the heavens for overlooking the young and na?ve version of me who once prayed for madness. Now, I can’t imagine dealing with Nathan everyday concerning our child. The first time a mother pushed a stroller past me, I broke down in the driver’s seat. I missed Onna. She was innocent and the light in our relationship. Growing attached to her hadn’t been hard, with her chubby cheeks and medium-brown skin. The way she laid against my chest was the best part of my day. Nathan’s mood changes were unpredictable and kept me constantly on edge. Nothing was ever good enough for him and positivity couldn’t find him with a tour guide. By the time I got over him, I realized he was a grumpy old man stealing my light.
I opened the door and strolled up the sidewalk, passing a couple carrying a car seat. They were new parents, and I smiled as they discussed the doctor’s advice about changing formula brands. My decision to choose myself removed me from ever experiencing this, but there was always adoption.
“Mia, I know this week has been a bit much with Onna’s birthday. Tell me about the lighting of the cake.”
I sat back on the purple vintage couch with my hands resting in my lap. My fingers overlapped each other as I struggled to focus on Dr. Choice’s question. In my opinion, I had failed the assignment.
“Mia, I’m up here?” he said.
My chest lifted and fell as his two teal armchairs and wooden desk came into view. Dr. Choice greeted me with a warm smile. His salt and pepper low cut fade matched his tapered beard.
“I brought the cake, but I couldn’t make it through the birthday song without crying. Why am I stuck in this emotional quicksand?”
“Mia, let’s perform a five-minute breathing exercise,” Dr. Choice interrupted my rant.
After we inhaled with our mouth and exhaled through our nose, I was able to get focused.
“Now, we have quite a bit to unpack here. Let’s start with the birthday cake. What made this year’s birthday cake harder than last year?” he asked.
I slumped my shoulders before I answered. “I forgot to cancel the trip to Wonderland and the notifications came a day before her birthday. I wanted to recreate the same pictures my mother and I took in front of Circle Island,” I said.
He handed me the tissue box, and I pulled a few to wipe my watered eyes.
“Mia, I want to challenge your notion of not having the family you dreamed of. You are in the prime of your life and there are multiple avenues to become a mother. And it starts with you living again,” he said.
I dropped my head. “You remind me of my friend, Stacie, and this double date she wants me to go on.”
“What do you have to lose by going on a double date?” Dr. Choice asked.
My mouth parted in disbelief as he hinted at me giving dating another try. I expected him to say we need to focus on healing.
“Your expression suggested you were expecting me to say something else,” he said.
I crossed my legs and exposed the black heels underneath my pink tailored pants. “Yes, I was expecting you to say...I don’t know. That we need to focus on healing or something.”
Dr. Choice sat back in his seat with a blank expression.
“Mia, do you trust yourself with men?” he asked, and I paused.
I’m unsure on how to answer his question. Watching a good movie sometimes sparked my interest in dating again. However, replaying my own horror love story quickly burned out the flame.
“I don’t know. I still don’t know what within me attracted a narcissist. I was raised in a loving, two-parent household. What if I date again and attract another Nathan and I can’t get out?” I questioned.
Dr. Choice peered up from his tablet. “Narcissists are gifted at masking and love bombing. He showed you an image he never intended to keep. Even after the breakup, they maintain control by keeping you captive through not dating or moving forward. Mia, you have grown, and have additional support. I’m confident in your ability to recognize the red flags,” he said.
I sat back, and anger pinched me. Even after redecorating my house and blocking our mutual friends, Nathan was still controlling me. Maybe I should consider dating again but it would have to be on my terms.