Second Thoughts (15 page)

“Mr. Brent Goens,” I announced to the receptionist, providing the alias I had been using since I started my sessions with Dr. Kendrick.

It wasn’t until I was actually sitting on her couch on my first visit that I gave her my government name.

“I’m here to see Dr. Kendrick,” I continued after getting the receptionist’s attention.

She picked up the phone to dial in to the doctor’s office.

“Mr. Goens,” Dr. Kendrick spoke as the door to her office swung open. Her office sat directly across from the receptionist’s desk. She’d used the name she had agreed she would unless we were in her office. I was a well-known agent. I didn’t want my clients, current and prospects, question my emotional stability. I’d even agreed to pay for my sessions in cash.

“I didn’t expect you here so soon. I just had a client cancel,” Dr. Kendrick continued.

She’s never called the people she saw her patients. She smiled as she walked closer to me. She hugged me instead of shaking my hand like she had done the first couple times I had visited. I guess she was starting to feel as close to me as I was feeling to her. After all, I’d told this woman things only my mother, the lawyer who represented me, and Omar knew. My lawyer and my mother I trusted, though I was starting to doubt the latter. Omar only knew because he was the perpetrator, the only reason I’d sought out the assistance of Dr. Kendrick.

“Why don’t you come in?”

“Are you sure?” I asked, but there was no hesitation in her invitation. 

“Kimberly,” Dr. Kendrick said, smiling.

She paid no attention to my question.

“Mr. Lucas will be calling you to reschedule for some time next week.”

I assumed Mr. Lucus was another alias Dr. Kendrick had agreed to use to conceal her client’s identity. Then again, maybe Mr. Lucas had nothing to hide and proudly used his name, accepting his troubles and his willingness to shamelessly deal with them. If that is the case, more power to him. Between that receptionist desk and the oak door to Dr. Kendrick’s office, I was Mr. Brent Goens.

Dr. Kendrick’s mannerisms reminded me of attorney Mya Wallace, except Dr. Kendrick and I were closer in age, and she was white. She sported a white two-piece skirted suit and adobe color covered platform pumps. The heels added
several more inches to her short stature, which meant, standing in front of her, we were the same height, and she could now look me directly in my eyes. Besides the goldstone and diamond bracelet on her left wrist―the watch she wore during my previous sessions was missing―a pair of diamond drop earrings dangled from her ears. Her auburn hair was tied in a loose ponytail, revealing those mesmerizing apple-green eyes I sometimes avoided looking into. Her lips were a shade short of pink roses. Dr. Kendrick cl
osed the door behind her as I walked closer to the couch.

It had only been a week since my last session. The furniture in her office had been rearranged. Her chair had been moved to the side of the long green couch, and her desk that once sat behind the chair had been moved to the other side of the room.  The wall had been painted what she called Majestic Orchid. I definitely thought this was a more suitable backdrop, better suitable for the assembly of furniture in the large room.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice,” I said.

I sat on the edge of the couch as if I were meeting Dr. Kendrick for the first time, though I definitely wasn’t as nervous as the first time.

“Well,” she smiled. “I did say to call me if you ever needed to talk. I meant it.”

She sat in her chair and crossed her right leg over her left knee.

“Where do you want to start?” she continued.

Her notepad proudly displaying a blue, white, and yellow eagle’s head sat next to a black analog clock on the coffee table in front the couch. Under that boldly colored eagle was what I assumed to be the name of her alma mater: Emory University.

“Grad or undergrad?”

She followed my gaze to the direction of the clock.

“Undergrad,” she answered proudly.

“Is that where you always wanted to go?”

“I didn’t have a choice. That was where my parents met. It was either Emory or pay for college out of my own pocket,” she said, smiling that perfect smile again.

“Are you serious?”

“Not about paying out of my own pockets,” she clarified. “I could have gone to any school with my scholarships, but I knew how proud going to Emory would have made them. So, I obliged.”

“I wanted to go to Auburn U,” I admitted.

“What stopped you?”

“Long story,” I answered, looking up at her.

“I think we have enough time for a long story. But if you don’t feel like it, give me the short version.”

She leaned over and reached for her glasses that rested on the leather notepad. She looked even more beautiful with them on.

“That’s where he went.”

“And by ‘he’ you’re talking about…?”

She paused and waited for me to fill in the blank. She picked up her pad and pen, turned to a new page, and began to write.

“Omar,” I answered reluctantly.

I hated saying his name just as much as I hated him. I went from loving my father one minute to passionately hating Omar the next. I never thought it was possible for one human being to have so much hatred towards another, but apparently it wasn’t as impossible. I figured he must have hated me just as much to do what he did.

“He’s been released.”

“And how do you feel now that he has been released?”

“For the rest of my life, I get to live with the fact that he raped me, and he only gets ten years, to do what, sit and think about it? I guess I should be filled with excitement,” I said sarcastically. “That motherfu…,” I paused to avoid any disrespect, though I knew she would’ve understood. “He didn’t shed one tear, not even as my own tears filled my eyes and clouded everything in front of me.”

“And his tears would have done what to you?”

“At least I would have known he felt some kind of remorse for what he did.”

I got up from the couch and walked over to the window. I stood staring into the opulent blue sky and waited for Dr. Kendrick’s next question or statement. When I turned to face her, my eyes met hers. She kept silent and waited for me to continue.

“I went through so much because of him. I lived a miserable life because of him. I went in and out of self-acceptance and self-hatred, and I can count the men who suffered because of that. I loved them just as easily as I hated them.”

“You said ‘at least you would have known he felt remorse’, but what if he didn’t? What if he did exactly what he wanted to do…what if he thought you deserved it? Would sorry have erased anything?”

Her questions rolled off her tongue as if she had been rehearsing their delivery. 

“What are you trying to do?”

She placed the notepad back on the table. She removed her glasses from her face as she walked and stood behind me. The scent of crisp citrusy fruits and delicate flowers came whiffing by my nose. She smelled just as good as before. 

“I’m trying to make you see that his ten years behind bars was his rehabilitation, his time to reflect on what he did to you. Whether or not that time made him come to any realization, that’s on him. Now, I want you to use these sessions, not to focus on him, but to focus on you.”

She had been staring in the back of my head. I finally turned around to face her. My eyes had become wet while she spoke.

“I’m afraid, Doc,” I said, walking away from her.

I’ve never admitted fear to anyone. I went back to the couch and sat with my head tilted towards the ceiling. I’ve never shared the thoughts of hurting Omar with anyone, but it was something that crossed my mind many times before. I used to dream about it when I was younger, but the dreams seemed to fade as I grew into adulthood. The dreams were always in fragments. I never saw exac
tly how he died─probably because I hadn’t figured out that part yet─but I was always there at his burial, staring expressionlessly at his coffin as it disappeared below the earth. My mother always stood next to me, holding a black umbrella that obviously w
asn’t big enough to protect us both from a nuisance rain that was always falling in my dreams. My clothes were always tattered, as if someone had tried to tear them from my body. I looked disheveled, but I was always looking up at my mother, smiling, and pleased that this man could no longer hurt me.

Dr. Kendrick stood searching my face. She remained composed with her hands folded across her chest.

“He can’t hurt you now,” she responded sternly and with confidence as she walked towards me. 

“Oh, I’m not worrying about him hurting me. But I’m not sure I would be able to keep myself from hurting him, if I ever see him again.” 

I was sure Dr. Kendrick had heard more riveting disclosures from her clients.

She sat on the attractive round-shaped cocktail table. She held her hands together as if praying, with her fingertips to the tip of her nose. She removed her hands from her face and covered my hands with hers.

“I know this man hurt you,” she spoke, keeping her eyes towards our hands. “And I know you didn’t do anything to deserve what happened to you, but you don’t want to trade places with where this man has been.”

I removed my hands from hers and stood again.

“Do you celebrate your birthdays, Dr. Kendrick?” I asked, changing the subject without warning.

She looked at me oddly. Rather than responding, she waited for me to continue.

“What if the only thing you could remember about your birthday is the one thing you wished you could forget?”

“What do you mean, Patrick?”

“See, Doc. He’s even taken that from me.”

While family and friends looked forward to their birthdays, I shunned mine. So many years I wished I could have gone to sleep the day before and wake up the day after.  I didn’t know if I would be celebrating my birthday or the day my father raped me. So, to avoid the mental friction, I avoided celebrating.

“I understand what he has taken from you. But everything else, you’ve given him.”

I leaned on the built-in floor-to-ceiling cherry bookcase in the corner of her office. I stood and pondered her comment. She remained seated on the table but turned her body towards me.

“Have you spoken to Devaan? And if you haven’t, you need to ask yourself why you are avoiding her.”

“Whatever I need to tell Devaan, she already knows, and there are so many people that could have fed her the information she came across. If I wasn’t so busy keeping my two worlds from crashing, I wouldn’t have to worry about her knowing what she knows now.”

I didn’t go into much more detail.

“Has she said anything to you?” 

“No, and I’m starting to wonder what’s stopping her. It’s not like she didn’t hear from a reliable source,” I said. 

For the first time since I entered the office, Dr. Kendrick picked up the clock to check the time.

“It seems I’m not the only one keeping secrets, and if they’re not keeping secrets, they’re telling lies. There’s something my mother is not telling me. My brother hasn’t spoken to me since he forced me to tell him what happened, even though he’s got some damn secrets of his own.”

“How do you know that?” Dr. Kendrick asked.

“I just have this feeling about my mother, and I’m never wrong when it comes to her. As for Chance, let’s just say we have a mutual friend, and I’m not sure he, I mean, I don’t think she’s telling him everything he needs to know.”

Dr. Kendrick had a confused looked on her face. I was sure it had something to do with this he/she confusion about this mutual friend.

“It seems you have some more things to figure out. I want to be able to help you through it all.”

“I guess I should have dealt with this sooner rather than now.”

“I don’t think that would have made the process less complicated. I think you’ve tried to figure some things out on your own, you’ve accepted that you couldn’t and so you came for help.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Dr. Kendrick placed her hand in my back. Her touch was warm. She moved her hand across my back from one shoulder to the next as she spoke.

“My door is always open, and I’m only a phone call away. You’ll get through this.”

I didn’t agree or disagree.

I walked out of Dr. Kendrick’s office at almost 12:30. I didn’t realize it, but I had been in her office for nearly two hours. I didn’t leave her office by myself. The doctor and I walked out of her office and down the long hallway with unfocused chatter. I did leave without scheduling another session. When we exited outside the elevator, Dr. Kendrick and I stood in the foyer briefly before we parted ways. I’m not sure I got all the answers I was looking for from this morning’s talk, but she had given me some things I really needed to take some time to think about. She was right. Even when Omar wasn’t taking, I had given him so much.

Chapter
17

Colleen…

Let Me Tell You Why