Nervous (22 page)

Flower was mighty talkative and I have to admit that she began to grow on me. After all, it wasn’t her fault that Henry had donated the sperm to create her. She was inquisitive, asking me about everything under the sun. She was good-humored and in high spirits and had good manners. I took her on the miniature train ride, let her ride the merry-go-round, and then we played two rounds of putt-putt. She beat me something terrible because Jon never played and I normally had better things to do, like fucking.

After she was worn out from playing, I took her to Paschal’s to grab a bite to eat. We ordered fried chicken, collard greens, and creamy potato salad and threw down on all of it. I should have taken the opportunity to eat some red meat, since Jon refused to, but I couldn’t go to Paschal’s and not jump on the fried chicken.

Flower opened up to me and talked a lot about her mother. Allison seemed like a decent human being so at least she had one parent she could count on. Then Flower turned the tables on me and started asking a lot of questions about Jon’s childhood. I lied and said that it was the greatest and that Jon was popular and had tons of friends and all the boys were in love with her. What a crock of bullshit!

When I got back to Meredith’s condo with Flower, they still were not back. I let Flower watch television while I snooped around. The Queen Bitch had enough sexy lingerie to clothe a whorehouse full of women. She had one sexy little red lace number that I just had to snag since the tag was still on it. I crammed it into Jon’s purse, already making some plans for later that night.

They finally came back in about nine, which still gave me plenty of time to go searching for dick. The way they were all lovey-dovey made me sick and I couldn’t take it anymore. I planned to go out, fuck some fool, and then ponder over whether or not I would
allow
them to get back together or break that shit up again. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that I could put a stop to it, if I so desired.

It was too damn easy to just pick up a man. No man was likely to turn down pussy if the woman looked halfway attractive. I wanted a challenge so I went to this gay club called The Milk Farm, which I took to mean that there were a lot of men up in there milking each other’s dicks. Shame on it all.

When I first walked in, some of them might have assumed that I was a transvestite but upon closer inspection, you could see their chins practically hit the floor. I had always assumed that some women hang out at gay bars for whatever reason, but this one was all male except for me. They were grinding all up on each other, tonguing each other down, and my pussy was getting wetter by the second. True sex fiends get turned on by anything sexual, even two dogs humping.

I hopped on a vacant barstool and waited for the bartender, a midget in a thong and leather hat who walked on top of the bar instead of behind it. He snarled at me and asked me what I wanted. I said, “A blow job just like everyone else in here.” I laughed at my joke but he didn’t like it. “Don’t front. I’m sure you know how to make it.”

He teetered away to get my drink.

The two men, or queens rather, that I was sitting between were hideous. I wouldn’t have fucked either one of them for bone marrow. I started scanning the club for other prospects. I realized that it would prove too difficult to pick out which ones were prospective fucks. The ones that went both ways. The ones who were married and in there on the downlow. That was the beauty of being me. Because I didn’t really exist, at least not on paper or as far as anyone was concerned, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, whenever the hell I wanted, and no one could touch me. Too many people hold back from doing the things they yearn to do. They are too busy worrying about what so-and-so might think. On the other hand, I didn’t give a fuck what people thought.

That’s why there was no hesitation on my part to do what I did next. The midget finally came back with my drink. I did my little hands behind my back trick and gulped it down. Just then, the DJ put on “Fever” and it was on. I climbed up on the bar, started dancing to the music, and singing. Then I started stripping.

Of course, the assholes were the initial ones to start yelling shit like, “You need to sit down, bitch!” “Get that slut off the bar! No one wants to see a whore stripping!” and “Did it suddenly get a little fishy in here!”

I ignored them all. I was waiting for that one person who defended me because I knew he would be the one open to what I had in mind. Sure enough, right before the song ended, I heard someone yell out, “Leave her alone! Let the diva do her thing!”

The strobe lights on the ceiling were irritating and I shielded my forehead with my hand so I could make out someone in the back. The only thing I could see was that he was extremely tall and dark-skinned. The song ended and no one applauded but one smart aleck said, “Great! Now get the hell out and go to a club where people like kitties!”

I played it cool and sat back down at the bar. Within five minutes there was a tap on my shoulder and it was him. Men are so damn predictable. It turned out that Hugh, which I’m quite sure wasn’t his real name, was married with four kids and trying to find himself. He said that he had experimented with men in college and had never gotten his curiosity out of his system. I asked him did he take it up the ass or give it. He said give it and that was cool with me because I had no intention of fucking a man who would take one up the ass. I made sure he had a condom, invited him to step in the back into a bathroom stall, and then I let him experiment with a freak and give it to me up the ass. Poor Jon was going to wake up the next morning wondering what the hell!

jonquinette

When I arrived in the parking garage at Marcella’s office building, it was difficult to find a space. There was a convention meeting at the hotel across the street so a lot of people had used Marcella’s building as an overflow parking area.

I had to go all the way up to the sixth level and park on the roof. It was nippy, even for mid-October, and I went to search in my trunk for a jacket. I found one and was closing my trunk when I heard someone say from behind me, “Well, hello again.”

I didn’t recognize the voice but when I turned, I was face to face with Zoe. “Hello.”

“It’s nice to see you again,” she said. “And I’m glad we ran into each other here. I take it that means you decided to use the card that I gave you.”

I smiled uneasily. “Yes, I did. Thanks for the recommendation.”

“It’s not a problem.” She came closer and sat a shopping bag that she was carrying down on the ground. “I just finished up a session with Marcella.”

I glanced at my watch. “And I’m next up to bat.” We both giggled. “Marcella really is wonderful and she’s helping me out tremendously.”

“That’s good.” She offered me her hand. “We’ve never formally been introduced. I’m Zoe Reynard.”

I shook her hand. “I already knew your name, from the meetings and all. I’m Jonquinette Pierce.”

“Beautiful name.”

“So is yours.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and then Zoe said, “I’m not trying to get into your business but I feel like I have to say something.”

“Go ahead.”

“Life throws us a lot of curveballs. We can run from them or we can catch them and throw them back.”

“I never thought of it quite that way,” I said. “Curveballs, huh?”

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard me actually give a testimonial at a meeting, but to make a long story short, sex almost killed me:
literally.”

I lowered my eyes to the ground to avoid eye contact. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I fought back. I was determined not to give up my life that easily, even when everything seemed hopeless. Looking back on it, I can’t believe how many people were hurt, some even killed, because of my actions.”

“Killed?” I asked in disbelief, looking back up at her to see if she was serious.

“Yes, killed, because of my issues with sexuality.” She leaned on my trunk. “I used to blame myself. I just couldn’t deal with it.”

“But you’re okay now?”

“Most of the time. I won’t sugarcoat it. The memories will never go away, not ever. If I have to eventually pay for my sins, then so be it. I’ve come to terms with that. For now, though, I just intend to live life with my husband and kids. They give me all the love and encouragement that I need.”

I didn’t want to be nosy but I felt like I just had to ask. “What caused you to be like that? Addicted to sex?”

“Are you really addicted?” she came back at me.

“My situation’s a little bit more complicated than that,” I responded. “I wouldn’t say that
I’m
addicted to sex. It’s more like someone else that I’m extremely close to is addicted to it or rather uses sex to prove a point.”

Zoe seemed confused. “I won’t ask you to elaborate. To answer your question, there were some incidents dating back to my childhood that triggered everything after that.”

“Incidents?”

“Yes, incidents that I had buried. We often bury things in our minds. The human body is a very intricate thing, an amazing thing, and sometimes we are things and have done things we can’t remember.”

I laughed. “In my case, that’s definitely true.”

“Did you have something happen in your childhood?” she asked me.

“I had a ton of things happen in my childhood. I was bullied, tormented, teased, and treated like crap by all the other kids.”

“What about your parents?”

“I have two loving parents, but they had issues because of me. In fact, something I did made them divorce.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, well, they are meeting me here today.” I thought about Daddy’s car being at my place overnight and added, “I’m hoping that there may be some chance for them to reconcile; even after all these years.”

“If it’s in God’s plans, they will,” Zoe said, looking up at the sky.

“So you’re religious?” I asked.

“I didn’t used to be, at least not much, but I am now. My husband and I take our children to church every Sunday and pray together every night.”

“That’s good.” I glimpsed at my watch again. “I really have to go before I’m late. I wish we could continue the conversation some other time.”

Zoe took a business card out of her purse and handed it to me. “Call me.”

I scanned the card. “You’re an arts dealer, huh?”

“Yes, all African-American art.” She smiled and touched my hand. “Take care, Jonquinette, and if you ever need anything, just reach out to me. Marcella understands a lot and I’m sure she will help you get through this, but she’s never walked in our shoes.” She picked up her bag. “When you feel comfortable enough, I hope you will consider coming back to the meetings.” She eyed me uneasily. “You and your friend.”

As Zoe walked off to get into her car and I walked to the bank of elevators, I wondered about her last comment. Had she figured me out that easily?

marcella

Working with Jonquinette Pierce had turned out to be much more than I had bargained for. Just like every professional I welcomed challenges in my career, but this one had taken on a personal edge. I had only one similar experience in my entire career. When I was fresh out of medical school, I interned at a psychiatric hospital in New York State under the guidance of Dr. Michael Driggs. He was one of the most respected psychiatrists in the country and had recently succumbed to colon cancer.

Dr. Driggs had a patient named Constance who suffered from Multiple Personality Disorder. I sat in on his therapy sessions with her and it was nothing short of amazing. While Constance had already pretty much figured out that she had at least three other personalities, it turned out that she had at least forty. Day after day, month after month, we met them one at a time. Dr. Driggs introduced me to the technique of integration, where he basically had lengthy discussions with each personality to see what their individual issues—or grievances, so to speak—were and how they could be solved. Constance had been the victim of severe neglect and physical abuse as a child. Because of that, she developed various personalities to deal with situations that she could not deal with. There was Bernie, who was an older gentleman. Bernie emerged when Constance felt threatened. He spoke in a heavy tone and his body language was intimidating. Rhonda was the little child who emerged when Constance was feeling lonely and abandoned, which she had been by her parents at the age of four. She ended up in foster homes and unfortunately, each one of the homes harbored a form of evil. Her first set of foster parents used to beat Constance with a belt and lock her in the cellar for days on end. The second set used to make her eat dog food while they dined on fine cuisine, courtesy of state funding. She and the other six foster children in the home eventually ran away together, seeking help from the local police, and the state had no choice but to find new homes for all of them and press charges against the couple who had made them suffer.

The list of traumas in Constance’s life went on and on until she simply could not function in society. She checked herself into the hospital, pleading desperately for help and some form of supervision. She did not trust herself or what she might be driven to do next.

As I sat in my office waiting for Jonquinette and her parents to arrive for their first joint therapy session, I couldn’t imagine what had triggered her MPD and how Jude had been created. Other than the fact that she had been bullied as a child, which didn’t sit quite well with me, there was no other obvious reasoning behind the events that had transpired.

Jude herself didn’t realize that she was crying out for help by sleeping with various men. She assumed that promiscuity was a display of power but nothing was further from the truth. Self-degradation is no better than someone else doing the degrading. I had a general idea of how I planned to proceed with Jonquinette’s healing process, but first I wanted to meet her parents and see how they interacted with her.

Jonquinette showed up first. I was glad that she came in separately because it gave us an opportunity to chat alone.

After she came into my inner office and sat down, I asked her, “So how are things?”

“I can’t tell you how much better I feel,” she said.

“Really? Why is that?”

She leaned up and whispered, “Mason and I did it. We made love.”

She giggled with delight and I faked a smile. I wasn’t so sure getting sexually involved with Mason Copeland at that point in time was such a great idea. It might just serve to complicate matters.

“Jonquinette, if you are happy, I am happy for you.”

“Thanks!” She leaned back in the chair. “Oh, guess who I just ran into in the parking lot.”

That was a no-brainer since she’d just left my office. “Zoe?”

“Yes. She’s so sweet. She even gave me her card in case I want to talk.”

“That’s great. Zoe is a very compassionate woman and you may need to hear some of the things she has to say.”

I meant every word of that previous statement. In many ways, Zoe and Jonquinette were identical and in many others they were not. Zoe had a sexual addiction while Jonquinette, or Jude rather, used sex to make a statement.

Jonquinette glanced at my wall clock. “Humph, I wonder why my parents are late.”

No sooner had she said that when a knock came at the door. A stunning-looking couple entered and my first thought was that they seemed way too happy for two people who had just found out that the only child they shared together was ill.

Jonquinette jumped up and made the introductions. “Dr. Spencer, these are my parents, Henry and Meredith Pierce.”

I shook both of their hands. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Henry replied, “Same here. I just wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Please have a seat,” I said, directing them to my leather couch. Jonquinette sat down on the chaise and I sat in an armchair.

Meredith said, “Sorry we’re late. Henry just got back from dropping Flower back off in North Carolina.”

“Flower was here?” Jonquinette asked, obviously stunned.

Meredith laughed uncomfortably. “Don’t be silly, Precious. Of course, Flower was here. You spent the day with her.”

Jonquinette’s mouth fell open and the rest of us came to the same conclusion simultaneously.

Henry said, “Oh shit! You mean my baby girl spent the afternoon with that wench!”

No one responded and Jonquinette decided to lie down on the chaise instead of just sitting there.

Meredith said, “Jonquinette, does that mean that you don’t know about our news?”

“What news?” Jonquinette asked.

Henry cleared his throat. “The news about your momma getting back together with me.”

I studied Jonquinette’s reaction. She clamped her eyes shut and sighed. “No, I didn’t have a clue.”

Meredith folded her hands on her lap but I could still see them trembling. She glimpsed at me uneasily. “I guess we should talk about that later. We’re here for Jonquinette.”

I waited for Jonquinette to make any comments about the revelation. When she remained silent, I moved on. “As you know, Jonquinette is suffering from Multiple Personality Disorder, otherwise known as MPD. It is also commonly referred to as Dissociative Identity Disorder. Ideas about MPD date back to the 1800s. This is not a new concept.”

Meredith asked, “So what exactly is it and how can we stop it?”

“Basically, Jonquinette has at least one alter personality who was created to free her from the memories and experiences that were too difficult for her to rationally deal with.”

Henry said, “So are we talking about a mental illness? Is she insane?”

I shook my head. “No, Jonquinette is not insane. That was her assumption at first as well. Jonquinette is perfectly capable of leading a normal life without having to drown herself in pills or being hospitalized. What she has done, in a nutshell, is devise an innovative survival technique.”

Meredith shifted in her seat. “You said at least one alter. Does that mean there are more?”

Even as I made eye contact with her mother, I could sense Jonquinette staring at me. “That is a possibility but as of now, the only one we need to concern ourselves with is Jude. She’s obviously the most powerful and the one causing all the problems.”

Henry shook his head in dismay. “I still can’t believe that wench was left alone with Flower.”

Jonquinette sat back up on the chaise. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but why would you let me baby-sit Flower knowing my situation.”

Jonquinette’s parents glared at each other as I could sense their guilt.

Jonquinette continued, “Until we get this all straightened out, don’t dare do that again. Flower is a sweetheart and if she meets up with Jude while she’s angry, there’s no telling what might happen.” She paused and asked, “You couldn’t tell it wasn’t me?”