Don't take it Personal

Family Therapy

Trey was speaking in hushed tones with the woman in the room, while Mrs. Williams and I patiently waited within the hospital walls. My phone rang, displaying my dad's caller ID. I excused myself from Mrs. Williams and answered, "Yes, Dad."

"Hey, baby girl, how are you?" he asked.

"I am okay at the hospital," I replied, knowing I had sent him a text when Trey was admitted.

"Okay, how is Trey's progress?" he inquired, and I filled him in. Then he said, "I spoke to your mom, and she is willing to come to the therapy, so we both will be there." This news caused me to panic a little. "Oh, okay," I stuttered. We exchanged goodbyes and ended the call.

Mrs. Williams must have noticed the change in my expression as she approached and asked what was wrong. I informed her, "Stephanie, you need this to heal properly. It may be too soon for you, but it's well needed," she said with a warm smile.

The unknown guest walked out of the room in tears, leaving me to wonder about her relationship with Trey. Mrs. Williams entered, and I stood in the hallway, texting Blacks with Trey's update, to which he replied that he was on his way.

As I entered the room, Mrs. Williams said, "I am going to eat this lovely dinner my daughter bought in the hall," which brought a smile to my face. Trey was looking at me intently. I sat in the chair next to his bed and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"Stephanie, I am okay. I just need you to know that the woman you saw was Sidney," he began to explain. "Oh," I replied. Sidney was his college girlfriend they broke up with after three months of dating, but her presence here still didn't make sense.

"We saw each other when I went to Florida last weekend, and she was the last person I spoke with before the accident. I don't know who told the nurse to call her," he said.

"Okay, that's your business," I replied, trying to hide my jealousy. My subconscious mocked me, "Don't take it personally, you dummy."

"Trey, I really need to get going," I trailed off, unsure of what to say. But Trey grabbed my hand, and as I turned to look at him, he said, "I know you care for me and maybe even like me more than a friend. I heard you." My cheeks blushed, and he pulled me close for a kiss, only to be interrupted by a cough at the door, revealing Blacks and Candy, who were smiling and causing me to blush even more.

Fast forward to Friday, the day of therapy. I was relieved that I managed to change the date, as I couldn't bear the thought of a mid-week session given my recent mental breakdown.

I left work early, went home, and changed into comfortable attire. My dad had come up from Westmoreland the day before and was staying with me. He was in the living room, dressed in black denim pants, a black polo, and black Yeezys, engrossed in his phone. I went to my room, undressed, and took a shower with eucalyptus body shower gel to ease my tension.

I dressed in a yellow cotton shirt dress, paired with black divani sandals, a black sling Marc Jacobs bag, and a black leather watch. I left my natural hair in its curly state, wanting to keep things simple.

In the living room, I grabbed a bag of banana chips and a glass of orange juice. "Ready?" my dad asked, and I nodded. I was dreading this therapy session.

My dad drove his black Land Rover as I gave him the address. When we arrived and entered the therapy office, my mom was already there, engaged in conversation with the therapist. She was dressed in blue denim jeans and a light pink shirt, her hair in a messy bun. I exchanged a look with my dad, and he nodded in support. We took our seats, me on the right and my parents in the middle.

"Thank you all for coming," Mrs. Evans, my therapist, said. "Stephanie has been on a journey, and we need to delve into some past hurdles and understanding. As both of you are her parents, your involvement is crucial."