Destiny Lingers (19 page)

“Did he?”

I am totally deflated.

“Yes, these are the kind of hard questions that are sure to come up in these psychotherapy sessions. Oftentimes, we are not reacting to what seem to be the obvious issues in our lives. Sometimes our reactions go much, much deeper than that, only serving as the backdrop—the canvas, so to speak—to magnify our real issues and what’s
really
going on.”

“So what I hear you saying is that this divorce, this depression I’m going through, is really my reaction to something else much deeper than my husband dumping me for that whore, Eve?”

“Perhaps we are dealing with far more going on inside you than you realize,” Dr. Katzenberg responds with a gentle voice. “Your past is what has brought you here, my dear. My job is to help you unlock its challenging mysteries so you can prepare and protect your future.”

“Okay,” I whisper, a bit overwhelmed. Dr. Katzenberg is starting to sound more like a spiritual healer than a psychologist. I just hope and pray that this psych is not psycho as she continues her diligent and persistent dive for answers.

“What we call ‘talk therapy’ is not just talking about your problems. It is also working hard toward finding solutions, encouraging you to look at things a different way or discover new ways to react to people and the things that happen in your life.”

“I am right now scared to death to even think about getting that close to another person—or ever being in another relationship.”

“Yes, my dear.” Dr. Katzenberg shakes her head and raises her eyebrows. “You have certainly been served a double-whammy of pain here. But that can change. Remember, it’s not what happens in life; it’s how we react to what happens that matters. We can get through our pain, Destiny, as difficult as it is.”

I exhale. “I hope so.” I think I’m beginning to see the light. I lie back on Dr. Katzenberg’s couch and stare at her crackless ceiling.

“Earlier, you told me that your parents strongly disapproved of your marriage to Garrett. Why?”

“Because he’s arrogant and defends himself against their bullying. But they wouldn’t have approved of anybody anyway.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“They fear losing me—losing control. I guess anyone who threatens that, threatens them.” I shake my head, roll my eyes, and feel my cheeks flush. “You know, they really know how to push buttons.”

Dr. Katzenberg chuckles. “You know why parents know how to push our buttons, don’t you?”

“No, how?”

“Because they
installed
them,” she emphasizes with wide eyes.

“Ah, yes.” I smile, appreciating her humor.

“What is your relationship with your mother like now?”

“Well …” I sigh and stare at a large black fly that’s landed upside down on the high white ceiling. “My relationship with my mother? Well, it’s hard, you know.”

“Why?” Dr. Katzenberg continues scribbling on her yellow notepad.

“Well, I’m not convinced she always wants the best for me. I think she wants the best for herself. She never thinks I’m good enough … or anybody else, for that matter. She’s a mean snob. We’re very different people, and we’ve struggled to make peace all my life, something I think really affects my confidence and relationships.”

“Oh? Not feeling good enough?” Dr. Katzenberg looks up over her bifocals.

“I know she’s proud, but she gave up a lot of her own dreams to have me. I think she resents that sometimes and tries to live through me. She married a prominent doctor when she could have become one herself.”

We sit in silence. I stare at the stubborn fly now circling the ceiling. I hear a clock ticking.

“How do you think the relationship with your mother has affected your life as woman now?”

“Well, she certainly made an overachiever out of me; that’s for sure. I guess I just wanted her approval for once.” I can’t stop a sudden rash of tears from falling down the sides of my face. Dr. Katzenberg hands me a box of tissues. “I never told anyone this before, not even my best friends,” I confess as I dab my snotty nose and struggle in desperation to inhale, “but I was pregnant just before Garrett and I got married.” I sob. “We were very confused and not sure of what to do. I was scared to death of the grave responsibilities of motherhood. Afraid I couldn’t handle it. I was afraid I might turn into her. I didn’t want to be a mother because I might turn into my mother.”

“What happened?”

“We decided not to have the baby because it would get in the way of our careers.” I feel a deep, dark emptiness and betrayal. “Garrett escorted me to the local clinic, and we aborted our baby, already well into its first trimester. I felt it was a little boy … a little boy. We both cried like we were babies ourselves that night. We held each other and cried and cried. I don’t believe either of us ever got over that. How could we so easily abort our child? Maybe that was the first sign that we had no business getting married in the first place. I still don’t know if that was the right decision. I think maybe I choked out of fear and insecurity. Mother always insisted I have a career, not a man and a baby. I believe that was truly her dream for herself. That’s why my heart breaks at the thought of Eve now carrying my husband’s child. She gets that chance with Garrett—not me—and I truly regret that. Truly regret that. Maybe I didn’t fight harder for the things that I truly loved and wanted.”

“Are you sure having children with Garrett was one of those things you truly loved and wanted?”

“Wow …” I am startled by the severity and sting of Dr. Katzenberg’s barrage of questions.

“I’m asking if you’re sure you wanted marriage and children with Garrett to begin with.”

“I think so. I think I loved him that much.”

Dr. Katzenberg shifts in her seat. “You think?”

“Maybe I was more in love with the idea of freedom, a peaceful family life, and getting away from Mother than I was in love with Garrett himself,” I confess. “Maybe he was the easy choice to avoid ever having to go back home.”

“Is there somewhere you can go for a while? Spend time? Regroup? Is there any place that gives you solitude and tranquility so you can think about what it is that you truly want for your life? And then, together, we can start your new journey from there.”

“
Tranquility
?” I repeat Dr. Katzenberg’s word slowly, finding joy in the way the word rolls around on the sides of my tongue. I wonder, even more now, whether the good doctor is psychic. How did she know how much “tranquility” means to me? It is far more than just a word; it is the name of the one home I have loved and felt love all my life. And Tranquility now belongs to me.

“Home, wherever you find it, is a healing place,” Dr. Katzenberg says. “Go home—wherever that ‘home’ is for you, and go wherever that home takes you.” Dr. Katzenberg’s clock cuckoos. “Well, our time is up today.” She gently removes her bifocals and carefully places them inside a cat-embroidered cloth case. “You did exceptional work today, my dear. You dug deep. But be prepared to go even deeper, Destiny—much, much deeper.”

I nod my head slowly, feeling the gravity of all I must do. As I gather my belongings and say good-bye, I feel a strange sense of wonder and excitement growing inside of me. I cannot wait to move on with clarity and occasional help from Dr. Katzenberg. But the first step is to book another flight home to my Tranquility—my dear Topsail Island—my home away from home. My salvation.

As I walk down the padded runner in the marble hallway, I hear Dr. Katzenberg humming once again as she cranks up her stereo and replays her Mozart concerto.

“
Music soothes the soul of the savage beast, they
say …”

And I know, deep down inside, I am one of them.

Chapter
Twenty-Two

I
t is hard to believe that I have returned again to Topsail Island. I have traveled here more in the past few months than I have in many years. But I am always comforted by what I have always felt and known as home. Topsail seems the most likely place to retreat, especially under these grim circumstances of feeling so hurt, lost, and broken, especially my heart, which sinks at the thought that Aunt Joy is not here and never will be again. Though not in the flesh, hopefully in the spirit. I will miss her more than I know. I lovingly recall her greeting me with squeals of delight at the top of our beach house steps with her shrimp deveiner in hand.

I hear the familiar crack and squeal of the salty hinges as I push open the door of what is now my beach house. I am taken aback once again by the familiar smells that rush around me. It is the smell of home, of my ancestors, of my life and me. The smell of my grandparents and Aunt Joy. The smell of the straw rugs and driftwood on the shelf. Of Grandpa’s pipe. Of fish frying and grits bubbling and biscuits dripping with butter. The smell of love and being loved, all locked up in this one little house. It is the smell of home. It is me.

I swing open the shutters, and the ocean is out there all around me again. She is boisterous today and her tide is rushing in. I feel her power and her invitation to take a swim or a long walk along her beach.

The phone rings. It has to be Kat or Hope. They’re probably checking in on me, just as I am sure my parents will be doing soon, making sure I arrived safely and am not still considering suicide.

“Hello?”

“Hey, girl! What’s happ’nin’? You got in okay?” It’s both Kat and Hope on the other end of the line, with a lot of concern, energy, and a host of questions.

“Hey, yeah, I got here safely. It was the perfect choice,” I say as I catch my breath, wipe my brow, and look out over the stretch of dark blue ocean.

“You all by yourself? Why you breathing so hard?” Hope asks. “What’ve you been doing?”

I chuckle slightly. “Flinging open the shutters, that’s all. I just got in. It is so amazing out there. The ocean is so blue today—just beautiful. Nice to be isolated from the rest of the world, you know?”

“Seen Adonis yet?” Kat asks.

“Ah,” Hope replies. “Yeah, that fine police chief?”

“I just got here! And his name is Chase,” I say, and, once again, I feel all rattled inside at the very mention of his name.

“Well, nothing wrong with knowing the police chief,” says Hope. “You never know when you might need him one day down there on that island all by yourself.”

“Yeah,” Kat chimes in. “You might need him down there for lots of things!”

“Girl, please!” Hope snaps. “Stop that nonsense! Destiny’s supposed to be trying to heal right now. Dee, unlike our sister here, I think it’s really important to let go of one situation and deal with the aftermaths of that one before moving on to the next one. You’re very sensitive right now.”

“And that is why it is even more important for our sister to get laid,” Kat argues. “Especially since you are totally through with that asshole, Garrett. So when are you gonna see Adonis?”

“I don’t know,” I answer. “Soon, I hope. He’s a very special man and has proven to be a good friend. I really appreciate that he was there for me when we lost Aunt Joy.”

“Be careful, Dee,” Hope warns. “You know you’re on an emotional roller coaster right now. You have come so far with Dr. Katzenberg, this trip to Topsail, and all. We just don’t want to see you have an emotional relapse or anything.”

“Yeah, and as much as I do believe that you really do need a good lay, Hope may have a point,” Kat reluctantly admits. “Girl, I never want to see you looking like you ’bout to jump off a bridge again. That was not pretty, girlfriend. Uh-huh, that is
not
allowed. Not a good look.” Kat shakes her head.

“Hey, listen to us, y’all—it’s not even that big a deal. He was just a guy I used to know at the beach, right? No. Big. Deal.”

Silence.

“O-kay,” Kat starts. “First, it’s a big deal; then it’s a not-so-big a deal. Girl, you are truly
sp
rung
!”

Hope chuckles. “All I can say is, thank God we can halfway laugh about something. We haven’t done that in while. Cheers to Police Chief Adonis!”

Hope is right. It’s good to connect with my girls, dreaming like teenagers again.

“Wouldn’t that be something if Chase turned out to be your neighbor again? But this time, instead of the trailer park, he lived in a mansion by the sea? Wouldn’t that be the bomb?” Kat muses.

It would be quite the irony if things really changed that much. Back in the day, the only reason Chase was then my neighbor on our segregated island was because his family was poor. Poor white folks were just as ostracized as blacks folks by other whites, particularly the rich ones, so they had to live on our side of the island, their tin trailers lined up and parked across our one two-lane highway by the sound. The white kids weren’t allowed to play with us because we were black. We weren’t allowed to play with them because they were poor.

It was just understood. That was the way things were. But so much has changed. Or has it?

“You sure you won’t be lonely down there?” Hope asks, concerned as always.

“I’ll be fine, Hopey,” I reassure her. “I’m home. I feel much safer here than anywhere else right now. Don’t worry.”

“Well, at least you’re out of that brownstone of doom for a while. Have you even heard from that motherfucker, Garrett lately?”

“No,” I reply. “I think he’s too ashamed. It doesn’t matter. As Dr. Katzenberg says, it’s time to move on with my life. I have no control over what Garrett does anyway. I only have control over myself.”

“Clearly, you can’t control Garrett,” Kat hisses. “Garrett can’t even control Garrett! Dr. Katzenberg is right. Move on with your life.”

“And you are doing it very nicely,” Hope adds. I can feel her warm hug through the phone. “We are so very, very proud of you, Dee.”

“I love you guys,” I gush into the phone, at the point of tears. “Thanks again for checking in on me.”

“You be good!” Hope says. “Call us if you need anything.”

“I will,” I assure her.

“Call us if you
get
anything!” Kat teases. “And kiss Chief Adonis for us!”

And with that, my angel girlfriends are back to their busy lives in the bustling boroughs of New York City. Another place, another home that already seems so far away—light-years away from where I am today.

I wonder what Garrett is doing back in New York—what my husband might be thinking, what he talks about with his lover, Eve, these days after they practically destroyed my life. Those worrisome thoughts slowly dissolve as the image of a golden and glistening Adonis glides across my mind. He smiles. I melt. And that one dream alone makes me feel far better than any of the realities of Garrett.