Nervous (4 page)

After discussing it with her husband, Jason, Zoe had made up her mind to help the young woman who always seemed withdrawn. As always, she showed up for the meeting, lurked in the back of the room, and tried to sneak out without being noticed. This time, Zoe followed her.

She caught up to her in the parking lot, climbing into a late model Honda. “Excuse me? Young lady?” Zoe called out to her.

She stared at Zoe uneasily. “Yes?”

“I was just wondering if you needed anything.”

“Anything like what?”

Zoe walked closer to her, proceeding with caution. She didn’t want to scare her off by overstepping her boundaries. “It’s just that I notice you here every week, but you never say anything.”

The woman’s eyes dropped to the ground. “Maybe I don’t have anything to say.”

Zoe forced a smile. “Oh, I don’t think that’s true at all. You wouldn’t come to the meetings if something wasn’t bothering you. This is Hotlanta, after all. I wouldn’t exactly call a sexual addiction meeting someplace to hang out and enjoy the scenery.”

The woman didn’t respond or look back up.

“I just wanted you to know that if you ever need someone to talk to, in private, I’m available. Trust me, there’s nothing you could tell me that I wouldn’t understand. If you knew what I’ve been through, you would realize that things can always get worse.”

The woman fumbled with her keys, hesitating between climbing all the way into the car or standing there. Finally, she said, “What makes you think what you’ve been through is worse than what I’ve been through?”

Zoe frowned. That was a good point. As horrid as her life had been, she had no clue what this beautiful young woman had endured in her short life. “You’re right. That just tells me that maybe I’m not the one you should be talking to. But, I do have another suggestion.”

“What’s that?”

Zoe walked all the way up to her and reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve a business card. She handed it to the young woman. “Call her. She’s the one who helped me and I’m sure she can help you also. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be alive today, much less attending these meetings.”

The woman eyed Zoe suspiciously before reading the card. “She’s really all that, huh?”

“Yes, she is. Just give her a chance. You won’t regret it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

No more words were spoken between them. Zoe walked back inside, hearing the woman start the ignition of her Honda and pull off.

jonquinette

I sat at my desk staring at the card. Dr. Marcella Spencer, a psychiatrist. Was I ready for that? There had been so many years of questioning. So many blackouts. So much pain.

Darnetta poked her head into my office. “What’s up, girl? Can I come in?”

I put the card under my desk pad out of her view. “Sure, I have a moment.”

“How’s business?” Darnetta asked as she sat down opposite me at the desk.

“Better.”

“Thank goodness, because Boss Man has been walking around here beet-red like he might croak any second.”

I laughed. “He’ll survive. All businesses have slow periods but things are picking up.”

Darnetta worked in Accounts Receivable and was very good at collections. I often wondered if people just agreed to pay us so they wouldn’t have to listen to her squeaky voice over the phone anymore.

“Well, I’m glad we’re shipping more product because he’s really been on those of us over in my department about closing out past due invoices. You would’ve thought his house was about to go into foreclosure or something.”

“Trust me when I say that Mr. Wilson has no problem paying his bills. It’s his staff members that have to pinch pennies.”

“Speaking of which, have you heard anything about raise reviews coming up?”

“No, he’ll probably pull that old ‘We’ll show our appreciation with Christmas bonuses’ routine.”

Darnetta said, “He’s such a joy.”

We both laughed.

“So, Jon, you remember what you told me?”

“About what?”

“The next time I ask you to go someplace.”

I sighed deeply, not wanting to imagine what would come out of her mouth next. “Yes, I remember.”

“Good, because Logan’s in a wedding next weekend and I refuse to sit in the pews alone while he stands up for one of his immature, silly little friends. I need someone to keep me company. So how about it?”

She knew she had me. I’d already made a promise. “What time and where?”

Darnetta snickered with delight. “The wedding is Saturday at four, downtown, and I’ll pick you up at three. Cool?”

“Sounds like a winner,” I lied.

“Great!” Darnetta jumped up and headed for the door. “Well, I’m about to go enjoy what’s left of my lunch hour. I can’t believe in this day and time we still have to punch time clocks. That is so primal.”

I couldn’t help but agree. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, but Mr. Wilson is old-fashioned in many ways.”

“No, he’s just plain old. What is he? About a hundred ninety?”

I chuckled. “You better watch yourself. I wouldn’t put hidden cameras in the walls past him.”

Darnetta eyed the walls, taking me seriously.

“You can relax. He’s too cheap to invest in them.”

“Whew, you had me going for a second. Catch you later.”

“Later.”

After she was safely down the hall, I closed my office door, went back to my desk, and retrieved the card from under the desk pad. “Dr. Marcella Spencer, can you really help me?”

I picked up the phone and called to make an appointment.

When I got home, I noticed a U-Haul truck in the parking lot of the complex and wondered if the vacant apartment below me had finally been rented out. There were some college kids living there but they’d broken the lease and moved to the Georgia Tech campus. Thank goodness, because their loud rock music was raking on my nerves.

I was on the second floor landing, not paying attention to where I was going because I was searching through my purse for some Tylenol to take the second I could grab a cup of water to wash it down, when I bumped right into the backend of a floor model television. I stubbed my toe, the same one I’m always prone to banging against something, and yelled out in pain.

A man appeared in the doorway of 2-D. “Oh, no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to have this thing out in the hallway so long.”

I just stared at him. I tried to say something but I’m not even sure I was actually breathing. He was…He was…

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I finally managed to say. “I just hit my toe.”

“Well, toes can be the source of much pain,” he said jokingly.

I forced a smile. “True.”

I walked around the television and headed for the stairs leading to the third floor, my floor.

“I’m Mason. Mason Copeland.”

“Moving in?”

“Yes. I just decided to check out Atlanta for a while. I’m originally from D.C.—the Chocolate City.”

“That’s cool. I used to live in Philadelphia when I first graduated from college.” I don’t know why I asked the next question but I did. “Is your wife home? I’d like to meet her.”

“Wife? No, I’m single.” He grinned at me and added, “Single and extremely available and accessible.”

I cleared my throat. “Well, with all the female singles around here, you won’t be for long.”

“Are you one of the female singles around here?”

I couldn’t prevent the blush. “Um, yeah. I guess so.”

“Name?”

“Jonquinette Pierce.”

“Jonquinette Pierce. Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

Another blush. “Thanks, but I really have to go.”

I started up the steps.

“Jonquinette?”

I turned and saw his head over the railing.

“Yes?”

“Maybe you can help me get settled in. Aren’t neighbors supposed to greet newbies with a pound cake, or a pecan pie, or something?”

I giggled. “I’m not a baker. I can’t even make toast without burning it.”

He frowned and then laughed. “There’s always store-bought.”

“Now that’s a thought.”

I hurried the rest of the way to my apartment. My headache really was tormenting me and I just wanted to take something for it and lie down.

jude

Mason Copeland, huh? I didn’t even think so. I just knew that Jon would haul ass the way she always did whenever a man said something to her. How dare she actually flirt with him? I wouldn’t have that nonsense. No way.

Granted, the man looked good. Damn good. If I saw a brotha with honey-almond skin, hazel eyes, and dreads, someplace inconspicuous, it would definitely be on. But this Mason, hunk or not, lived right below us and that shit was out of the question. No serious relationships. Just sex and I was the only one entitled to that. Jon was really tripping lately. First calling up that shrink bitch’s office. Now she was holding actual conversations with men. Something had to be done. Something would be done. I’d worked too hard for control and I’d do whatever it took to keep things just the way they were.

jonquinette

I circled the office building five times in my car, debating about keeping my appointment. I yearned to let go of all the emotions that were balled up inside of me, but talking to a complete stranger about my problems didn’t sit quite right with me. No matter what accolades Dr. Marcella Spencer had received, I didn’t know her from a hole in the wall and I had a serious enough problem talking to people I actually knew.

I finally parked and got up enough nerve to get out of the car and walk into the building. I caught the elevator up to her floor and located the correct office. There were two other people waiting in front of me. Great. I’d have to sit there and let the anticipation build.

I gave my name to the secretary and she gave me some forms to fill out. That took all of five minutes, leaving me with what turned out to be only a short wait because the two people were waiting on a third to come out of the inner office. He was the “authentic patient” and I stared at him while he exited, wondering how a person that appeared so normal could need a psychiatrist.

Five minutes later, I found myself sitting across an expensive desk from a strikingly beautiful woman. My first thought was why would she go into her chosen profession when she could have been a high-end fashion model or something.

“Jonquinette. Lovely name.”

“Thank you.”

“What brings you to see me today?”

That was one hell of a good question.

“Dr. Spencer, what’s the definition of insanity?” I asked her, unable to meet her eyes with my own. “I know what I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?”

“That insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”

“Do you believe that?”

“No, not really. I believe that’s just something a self-proclaimed prophet made up to sugarcoat the term.”

She giggled. “Interesting thought.”

I waited for her to get her laugh out and then dropped the bomb.

“I think I’m insane. I think I’ve been insane for a very long time.”

As suspected, Dr. Spencer stopped smiling. “What makes you say that?”

“Strange things. Things I can’t remember.”

“I’m not following you.”

I knew discussing matters would be tremendously complicated but I was shaking like a leaf. I was scared, but the thought of walking out of her office and facing my life the way it had been for the past fifteen years was even worse.

“Nasty, vile things written in my handwriting that I don’t remember writing. People accusing me of things I don’t recall doing. I mean, all of them can’t be mistaken. Right?”

“All of them?” she asked.

“My daddy. People I went to school with. Everyone who’s ever accused me of something.”

“Could you please elaborate?”

I got up from the chair and started pacing the floor. “I’m sorry. I know this must make zero sense. It doesn’t even make sense to me and I’m right in the middle of it.”

“Right in the middle of what?”

I smirked. “Hell. Right smack dab in the middle of hell.”

“When did people start accusing you of things?”

“Second grade.”

“Second grade?”

I sat back down and folded my hands on my lap, trying to prevent them from shaking.

“Yes. It was the day someone beat up Brenda Morrison and two other girls in the bathroom. Brenda had two black eyes, three broken ribs, and a smashed knee. I’ll never forget the way she looked when they took her away in the ambulance.”

“And they said you did that to them?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t make sense. I was terrified of Brenda. She was the biggest bully in the entire school.”

“Why do you think they accused you?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Brenda said I did it. So did the others. She said it was me, but it couldn’t have been. They said I followed them into the bathroom from the playground but I don’t even remember half of recess that day.”

“There were more instances after that one?”

“Several.”

“Please tell me about them, Jonquinette. If it isn’t too painful.”

“It’s painful, but that’s why I came here.” I finally looked Dr. Spencer in the eyes. “There was Mrs. Greer’s dog.”

“Mrs. Greer?”

“Our next-door neighbor when we lived in Florida. She was the nicest old lady and I swear I’d never do anything to hurt her. I’d never do that. Not ever.”

“But someone did?”

“She said I was on the porch complaining about Shadow, her poodle, barking. I never did that. I loved Shadow.”

“Whom did she tell that to?”

“My parents. She came over after…After…” I hesitated.

“After what?”

“After someone poisoned Shadow. It wasn’t me. I wouldn’t even know where to get any rat poison but—”

“But?”

I lowered my eyes. “My daddy found an empty can under my bed.”

“And Shadow was poisoned to death?”

“Yes. Poor thing.”

“And the next incident?”

“Seventh grade. Someone put hair remover in the shampoo bottles in the girls’ locker room.”

“They said you did it?”

“No, no one said I did it that time.”

“Then what makes you think you had something to do with it?”

“Three empty bottles of hair remover in my locker.”

“Oh, I see.”

“It just went on and on until—”

“Until what?”

“Until the really bad things started to happen.”

“What sorts of things?”

The tears started falling before I felt them coming.

“I can’t do this.” I wiped my tears with my bare hand. “I’m sorry but I just can’t.”

Dr. Spencer got up, walked around the desk, and started caressing my shoulders.

“Jonquinette, please continue. I can’t help you unless you confide in me.”

“I didn’t really come here to discuss my childhood,” I whispered.

“Then what did you come here to discuss?”

“The things that are happening to me now.”

“Like?”

I was so ashamed, but it had to come out. “The reason I think I’m insane is because I wake up sometimes and I’m wearing clothes I’ve never seen; my hair is curled instead of up; my glasses are tossed someplace; a couple of times they were even broken. And then there’s the other stuff.”

“What other stuff?”

I clamped my eyes shut. I’d never felt so degraded. “Dr. Spencer, sometimes there are strange smells on my body, on my breath, all over me. Sometimes there’s sticky stuff between my legs and—”

Dr. Spencer sat down on the corner of her desk, facing me, and lifted my chin with her hand so I’d look at her. “Jonquinette, are you telling me that you have sex with men and don’t remember it?”

“That’s the really crazy part, Dr. Spencer.”

“Please, call me Marcella.”

“Marcella, I’ve never been with a man. I’ve never had sex but—”

“But?”

“Somehow I managed to break my hymen and even contract one venereal disease.”

“How do you know that?”

“An OB/GYN told me. My freshman year in college something happened to me. I had gone to the library one day to study and I somehow blacked out. Afterward I went to the campus clinic because I was sore down there and I didn’t know why.”

“And this has been happening ever since then?”

“Yes, it has.”

Admitting it caused an instant breakdown. I grabbed hold of Marcella’s arm and began to cry. I buried my head into her chest; She wrapped her other arm around me.

“I’m so afraid,” I whimpered. “What’s wrong with me? Am I really insane?”

“No, I don’t think you’re insane,” she said reassuringly. “If you were insane, you wouldn’t have sought me out to help you. And I will help you, Jonquinette. I promise you that.”