A WEEK LATER: MID/LATE DECEMBER, 2014
• T R E V O N •
"A couple weeks ago I asked you a question that still remains unanswered," My therapist spoke.
Once again, I was sitting on her couch before work, divulging and dissecting my life against my will.
It was working though.
So I guess I should just trust the process.
"When we talked about you doing heterosexual porn, I asked a tough question, Do you think you were holding onto a possibility that you weren't gay? Were you trying to live right in your mother's eyes? You didn't answer. Is it possible that we could revisit that topic?"
I clenched my jaw at her words.
Of course, I didn't want to fucking revisit the topic.
Of course—but I have to.
I think about my baby. I think about how he's doing a lot of 'I don't want to, but I have to's, so I suppose I should do the same.
Fuck it.
"Okay," I said low. "We got less than thirty minutes today because I gotta shoot to direct this morning," I spoke.
She nodded. "That's all the time we need," she smiled.
And it irked the hell out of me.
I hate a hoe who's damn good at her job.
"Could you answer those for me?"
I did an exasperated sigh before refocusing my eyes back on her, "I feel like we both know the answer ta that. Ets why I'm hur right?"
She smiled. "Admission helps the process,"
I rolled my eyes, "Okay, fine. The answer is yes—I wanted ta be the perfect son. I was the perfect son. I just had one flaw about me that seemed ta be the worst flaw I could ever have,"
"So you feel like a disappointment?"
"I do,"
"You still feel that way? Even with Malik? Even with all the success that you have attained over the years?"
I stayed silent for a moment. "I-Ion mean ta feel es way," I felt myself getting emotional. "Of course I love Malik, and I'm proud of myself for the things I've accomplished, but—sometimes I jus wonder if she would be proud of me. If she would accept me, seeing all the good things I've done, or would she still just see me as her son who turned out to be a fuckin' f-ggot," I spoke tears now fully falling down my face.
She sighed, putting her notebook down. "Trevon," she spoke. "Today's theme is acceptance—self-acceptance," Dr Moore emphasized self. "You can't keep lookin' for validation from your mother because it'll never happen—"
"I know," I cut her off, feeling like I already knew that information. "I know how she was—"
"Not because of how she was," she shook her head. "Simply because she's no longer with us," she continued. "The fact of the matter is we don't know how she would've reacted to you now—we just don't, and you'll drive yourself to madness if you keep searching for answers that will never come," she said so bluntly and honestly, and when she did, I couldn't help but to cry even harder.
