Broken Heart (Broken Heart #1) (13 page)

Once in a while he would glance at me through the rear view mirror to catch a glimpse, but I quickly looked away as my thoughts were drifting, reliving my awkward but sensual encounter

with that tall delicious man who literally knocked me off of my feet when I met him in the elevator. I pressed the window button and slowly slid it down some more, looking out, enjoying the city

lights as they lit up the night sky. The cab driver pulled up to my apartment building, and I got out, paid him, and closed the door quickly. I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. I headed upstairs

to my apartment. I grabbed my throw blanket, snuggled up, and dreamt of the man who kept me wanting more. 

The sun shimmered through my window leaving a warm shade of gold across my white silk sheets. I rolled over on my stomach, trying to find the perfect position to nestle up and avoid the daylight.

I hesitated to open my eyes. I wasn’t feeling well. My head was throbbing causing my eyes to shut. I finally opened them slowly then, quickly closed them again. The pulsating pain in my head trickled down to my face. I had the worst headache in the world. I didn’t want to get out of bed, and I tried to find solace underneath my pillow instead. I rolled over repeatedly. Oh my God! Is this how my father felt every day? 

I got up slowly, reaching out into the empty space in front of me, squinting because of the pain in my head. I walked over to the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, opening it in a rush and knocking the contents on the floor while searching for an aspirin. As I held the sides of my head, I grabbed two Tylenol, ran the cold water from the sink, and sucked them down using the palm of my hand as a cup. I felt like shit and from what stood in front of the mirror I looked like shit, too. I felt so guilty drinking like that. Why did I do it, again? Why did I have to drink so much? I don’t know, but I did know I didn’t want to end up like my father. That would be the last time I would ever drink a glass of evil again. Sometimes I wondered if I could avoid my DNA. Maybe I’m just programmed like him…no escaping the inherited trait of being a fuck-up and alcoholic. I lay down on the bed crouching into a fetal position. I stood in bed all day and all night thinking about my life and where it was going. I just didn’t know. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so alone, and the night dragged on and on. I wanted to call

Dave, but I didn’t want to hear his, “I can fix all of your problems,” attitude.

CHAPTER 7

The next morning I awoke, and I could still feel a slight throbbing in the back of my head, but of course, it’s because I ended up hitting my head against the night table…again. Thank God today I

had an appointment with the therapist. Between the unwarranted hangover and the concussion I probably have, I’m going to have to see a doctor in the Emergency Room instead. 

I looked at the clock and only had a half an hour to get to the appointment. I jumped out of my bed, ran to the closet, grabbed a blue sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and my blue and white Roshe

tennis shoes, then I grabbed my coat, purse and ran out the door. I ran down the stairs slamming right into Dave as he was walking up.

“Shit!” I yelled as bumped into him almost knocking him down the stairs. He held on to the bannister and swung around facing down the stairs.

“What the fuck!” he shouted.

“Dave, I’m sorry, I’m late. I’ll talk to you later!” I shouted. 

I hailed a cab, got in, and told the cabby to put his lead foot to work. He sped down the street and I fell back into my seat holding on to the door. I tried to find the seat belt but it was torn out. We

twisted and turned and the cabby got me there in fifteen minutes flat. Damn! That was fast. I paid him and slammed the door shut, running into the building, then into the elevator and banging on

the number two. The elevator door opened, and as I rushed towards the office door, the receptionist stopped me.

“Um…excuse me miss…do you have an appointment?” Her voice was unpleasant, and she seemed annoyed while she folded her arms against her chest.

“Yes,” I muttered out of breath, halting to a stop in front of her.

“Dr. Logan?” She carefully analyzed me, gazing at me up and down, and then she raised her eyebrow and gave me the, “Well, are you going to answer me?” look.

“Yes, Dr. Logan.” I snapped at her. She kept her eyes tight and narrow on me. She turned up her snooty little nose and picked up the office phone and said,

“Dr. Logan, your twelve thirty appointment is here.” She slammed the phone on the hook, and without looking at me, she continued her interrogation.

“I’m assuming you’re Jenesis Heart, am I correct?”

“Yes, you assumed correctly.” I threw daggers at her with my eyes. She’s had it out for me since I walked in to the damn office. If they have a survey for me to fill out at the end of this appointment for courteous staff, she’s getting all ZEROS. 

“Jenesis?” I heard a sweet, subtle voice, and then I looked up and saw a beautiful, angelic face. Her blue eyes lit up the room, and her perfectly shaped lips were colored in pomegranate red. This therapist looked like a model for Chanel Number Five. She stood straight up with her shoulders

pushed back, as if she had a book on her head and someone was demanding that she walked straight and tall or they would threaten to thrash her. She wore an olive green pencil skirt that fit tightly

against her flat abs and impeccable round ass. Her white silk blouse was tucked in neatly and a gold-laced belt was wrapped firmly around her tiny waist. She wore the best white Jimmy Choo

peep toes I’ve ever seen. I’ve seen them in magazines before, and I know I can’t even sneeze in their direction; her satin bleached blonde hair was cut into a bob to perfection, glistening and

bouncy, and…her makeup and skin were unblemished, not a line or pimple to impede on her beauty. 

I stopped staring at the vision of gorgeousness that was placed before me and stood up trying to put my fashion disaster together to at least try to look presentable. I could feel the receptionist glaring at me from the corner of her eyes, making sure I heard her snicker, then cough as my eyes

met hers in a standoff. If E!’s fashion police camera was around to get this shot; they’d tear me up from the top of my messy hair down to my sneakers. What an embarrassment!

“That’s me,” I answered trying to sound confident.

“Come on in, Jenesis.” 

I passed by the receptionist and gave her the filthiest look I could give. She puckered her “too red” lips at me and snapped her head to the side, as if, “Well I never!” Trust me sweetie, you never will, not with that attitude. I proceeded into the office and she motioned for me to sit in the rather large

red leather sofa in the middle of the room. The office was colossal, and I felt like Alice in wonderland, except I was the tiniest person in the room.        The room was exquisitely decorated

with a posh Manhattan style. My mouth parted slightly as I scanned the room. I was speechless to say the least, and she noticed.

“Please, have a seat, Jenesis.” Her smile was infectious. There was nothing about this woman that was wrong. 

“Thank you.” I sat down on the leather sofa and leaned back against it. The cold feel of the leather shocked me a little, waking me up from her stunning, beautiful face.

“So, how can I help you?” She sat up straight arching her shoulders back and not leaning against her million-dollar brown leather chair. I sat up a little trying to straighten myself out, but it didn’t matter, the way I was dressed, I looked like I was going out for a jog in Central Park.

“Well, I’ve been having a lot of nightmares lately.”

“Okay…would you like to tell me about them?”

“I…um…I’ve been waking up on the floor.” I hung my head towards the floor, feeling deflated about the way I looked and then having to explain to this goddess that I was slamming against the floor every night.

“Jenesis, please know that whatever you say here is confidential. No one in this office is privy to your information; the ladies outside only handle appointments and insurance.” She tried really hard

to reassure me that no one would know my business, but that little red-lipped hussy outside made me think differently. 

“Can you tell me why you think you’re having nightmares that are so violent?” Violent? My eyes were squinting at her not really realizing what she was saying. Wow, I never thought of it that way, and I shook my head at the thought.

“My father was an alcoholic and very abusive to my mother…and…me…most of the time.” I glanced up at her to see her reaction. She wrote notes on her clipboard and then glanced up at me

to observe my face. It wasn’t the reaction I thought I was going to get. She seemed calm, cool, and collected…and not to mention, perfectly beautiful. “I’m so sorry to hear that…Jenesis…did your

father ever hit you? Hurt you?” she asked as she stared intensely at me, writing furiously on her clipboard like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Well…he hurt me, when he hurt my mother. He was more…verbally abusive to me.” I felt the lump in throat start to form. I couldn’t swallow and my heart hurt as I started to reminisce about my father.

“It’s okay…we’re going to get to the bottom of all of this so you could feel better and change how you’re reacting to your father’s abuse.” She handed me a tissue from a beautiful crystal tissue holder.

“Thank you.” I wept without warning; feeling the sting in my eyes from the burning tears that followed.

“Now…I don’t want to overwhelm you…so we’re going to take this slowly. What do you remember most about your father?” She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, placing her elbows on her knees to pay closer attention to me.

“Do you mean a good memory? Or bad.” I felt I needed to ask. To me, it almost felt like a trick question.

“Whichever one you’d like to share…How about we start with the good.

Tell me something good about your father.” She smiled trying to ease me into this conversation. My face grew pale with anxiety.

“I don’t have any good memories about my father, Dr. Logan.” I was fidgety in my seat. Panic set in, and I felt like I needed to get up and walk around.

“Oh…I see. Are you sure you don’t have one good memory, Jenesis?” She seemed saddened by my response. I think she wanted me to tell her a lie just so she could move on with the session.

“No…I’m sorry. I wish there was." I placed my hands on my lap. 

“Do you need to get up? It’s okay…”

“May I have a glass of water?” I asked as I looked over at the bottle of water that rested on the glass table. What I really wanted was a stiff drink to avoid answering her questions all together.

“Of course.” She reached for the bottle of water and opened it. She poured it into the crystal glass next to it and handed it to me. 

“Thank you.” I swallowed hurriedly as if I hadn’t drank in days. 

“Jenesis, you need to talk about your father…please…tell me more.” She glanced over at the clock and then looked back at me. I thought maybe she realized we were on the clock and we weren’t getting anywhere with this damn session.

“My father was a drunk, who was an abusive bastard to my mother. He dominated her life. He hated me, and I think he hated her, too,” I said bravely as I carefully rested the glass back on the table.

“Why do you think he hated you?” She continued to write notes on her clipboard, her tireless hand scribbling words that only she could make sense of. She didn’t want to miss a beat, but I didn’t like the questioning for some reason. It hit me in a place that I didn’t want to go to or…admit to.

“I think I reminded him of someone he didn’t like. He always viewed me as a burden…a problem.” I stared at her deeply as she continued to write on that goddamn clipboard.

“Who or what do you think you reminded him of?”

“I don’t know, you’re the expert…you tell me,” I barked at her. I was irritated and looking for a way out of this conversation at that point. 

“I’m sorry…did I offend you in any way?” she stopped writing and glanced up at me, and my eyes met hers. I was angry…really angry, and I didn’t know why. Her puzzled look threw me for a loop and she had no idea what this train wreck was about to say next.

“Look…I need help…I don’t feel like guessing why my fucking father was a goddamn animal to my mother. Or why he hated me or why he beat the living shit out of her every day since I was born and maybe even before that. I don’t want to think or pretend I know the answers to your

questions because I don’t. So, if you’re going to help me stop having nightmares and banging my fucking head against the floor every night then, please do. But don’t ask me these asinine questions.

I just don’t have the patience for it.” She sat up straight in her chair and placed the clipboard on her lap.

“Jenesis, you’re right…I am the expert. If you give me a chance, I can help you, if not, we can end this session now and you could find someone else to work with you; and I would appreciate that you speak properly in my office and avoid using street language in my presence.” Her expression

was calm, and she looked up at me with a soft smile. She wasn’t annoyed like I thought she was going to be. She let me have it, but she kept it calm, and she kept it…real.

“I…I’m sorry.” I busted out into tears as I placed my hands over my face. I cried and cried uncontrollably, even screaming at one point and crying out for my mother. This lasted about ten minutes as she sat next to me and hugged me tightly around my shoulders. I didn’t expect her to

do that, and I didn’t her hug back. I didn’t expect her to care…but for some reason she went out of her element and…she did. And I was sorry…really sorry.

“Do you want to see me again, Jenesis?” She tilted her head to the side waiting for my response as I wiped my nose with the tissue I had bunched in my hand from before, trying to contain the screams I so wanted to continue to belt out. 

“Yes…I do.” She stood up and sat on the chair across from me. I watched her as she finished writing her last notes on her clipboard. I sat with my fists clenched on my lap trying to calm down after the storm that invaded my mind and emotions.

“Jenesis, this has been such a real, painful experience for you. I want you to know that just because you see all of this glitz and glam in this office doesn’t mean I don’t understand what you are going through. No one is perfect and trust me…I’m living proof. Next week?” 

“Yes,” I whimpered as her last sentenced struck a chord in the pit of my belly. What could she have gone through that could be compared to my situation? I’d really like to know.

“Same day? I don’t do much on Saturdays…so we can change the time if you’d like.” She doesn’t do much on Saturdays. She must be married to a rich guy. Wait…she is the rich guy! She probably doesn’t even have to work.

“Maybe at two, is that okay?”

“That’s perfect. I like to wake up on Saturdays late, too. See you then…and if you need me…please don’t hesitate to call the cell phone number on the card.” She stood up and shook my hand then escorted me to the door. She smiled sympathetically and shut the door as I stepped out.

I walked pass the red-lipped hussy.

“Another appointment, Miss Heart?” she shouted as I kept walking passed her.

“Yes. Next Saturday at two.” I stopped and bent down on one knee to tie my shoes.

“Really? You must be something special. She rarely has appointments on Saturdays. She goes away quite often to the Hamptons.”

“I don’t think that’s any of my business, and I really don’t think she’ll appreciate you giving me that information, either. She specifically pointed out that you’re just a receptionist. Have a good