Pavane for a Lost Boy (Or Rather, How to Survive Loss after Rejection)

Chapter Nineteen

The next morning, as promised, I was back in Dr. Nguyen's office at St. Luke's Psych Ward. And in case you haven't yet learned, I did make the jazz and chamber-music ensembles (Which pleased everyone to no end, yet had them remind me that I needed to speak life to myself). But the main topic for this weekend's session was what I had on my mind as I was performing "Cold War" and "Waves" for the audition yesterday (the latter being requested by the forty-something year-old therapist). "Well, Demario, yesterday was quite eventful in words," Dr. Nguyen said after a bit of small talk as he got into his therapist persona. "From the way you were on the verge of a breakdown while playing your heart out, you had a LOT on your mind. And it's all because of your late mother, right?"

I took a couple of deep breaths, inwardly wincing at the mention of my bitter mother. "Yeah, doc, it was because of her," I replied. "As I said the other day, her voice nagged on and on about how I was never meant to be taken seriously, yet berated me for making a fool out of myself. She even egged me on to kill myself- to stop playing the music, head back to the house, and swallow down some pills just so I can grant her wish to be free from her misery. And while a part of me wanted to satisfy her- to save face and end it all just so y'all won't have to deal with me, a major part of me told me to stay where I was and to keep playing, to let out all the pain and misery that was emotionally tossed my way for almost all of my life.

I paused my monologue to allow myself another deep breath. "You know something, Dr. Nguyen? I don't think that the venom from Mommy Dearest and her brood would ever go away even if I did manage to let go of the past and move forward with the future. Before I came here, it was so easy just to give up and let the top dogs feast of the glory while I had to accept the handouts and scraps that fell around my way," I continued. "I told myself 'Demario, it's not worth shit to fight the system. They'll always have the upper hand- Mom, Dad, Shauntay, Ciara, Demarcus, DeSean, everyone will be on top while you're meant to remain in the bottom level. Just save face and let things be.' It was better to give up before I dared to try just so I can have some semblance of peace."

"Would anything change if your parents and sisters were alive?" Dr. Nguyen asked me. "Would things change if they started showing you some encouragement and decided to take some of the load off from you.

I thought for a moment. "Not a chance," I replied, not wanting to curse. "When it comes to my family, the hip-hop/ghetto mentality always trumps sensibility and simple-mindedness. I never got the memo because I was always the one to stand out in the crowd."

"Why do you say that?" Dr. Nguyen wanted to know.

I raised my eyebrow. "Look at me, doc. I'm borderline underweight, even though I'm now being plumped for a luau. I'm more of a bookish nerd than a hip-hop-loving gangbanger, and the only friends that I had before I had this dynamic shift were the landlord and his family- those people who saw me more as a member of their family than my real parents ever did. I did everything that I was told with virtually no complaint and yet I was kicked out of the cold. If anything, I was content with being ready to die because Lord knows that I can't survive on the streets. I'd be easy prey for the gun-toting thugs who want to be the next Original Gangster. Living in a life of crime isn't my forte and prostitution isn't really my style. If I was planning for a way out, then my failed attempt of suicide was more of a perfect exit clause just to escape a lifetime of homelessness."

Dr. Nguyen looked at me with a harsh stare in my eyes. "That's a lot for you to say, Demario," he said stiffly.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well, if I am sounding a bit like a bitter hausfrau who got trapped in arranged marriage while she was in her prime and got stuck in it for too long before she got the short end of the stick... then it's nobody's fault but mine. Trust me, Dr. Nguyen. I'm always guarded and ready to expect the worst while seldomly hoping for the best. And it's because of Vivian Emmeline Ingram-Bader who left me with her final words: 'I wish for thunder and lightning to kill you.'"