Ahmad Basheer was a middle eastern man with an olive complexion and full pale pink lips. He stood at six five, the same height as Ethan. His features were dark including his eyes and hair. Only looking at him one might find him intimidating, but when he opened his mouth it was an entirely different story.
He was the psychologist her father had set her up with. Surprisingly he wasn't old or white. His office was more upscale for him to be so young- twenty eight maybe. It was mainly white and black. There was a thin glass desk that sat in front of a large window overlooking thirteen stories. On top of the desk was a neat stack of documents and a wide laptop. Next to it was a tall plant just under the sunlight.
His office gave a comfortable feel as did the black couches they sat on.
"Hello Ghana" He smiled politely giving no choice for a genuine one to spread across her lips.
"Hello"
"You can call me Ahmad or Basheer, it's whatever you feel comfortable with"
She nodded.
The man sat comfortable in the black cushioned chair with a hand tugging on his thick beard and his right arm relaxed across the arm of the chair. Ten minutes into the discussion he asked the question his observations kept linking him back to the more she spoke.
"Ghana would you say you have low self esteem?"
Ghana sighed. A black purse in her lap and her leg crossed bouncing up and down in restlessness. She didn't feel like talking about this shit. She hated revealing herself to strangers.
"Yes I would. Just about everyone does..in their own way of course"
"How would you describe yours?"
She scratched the side of her head. "I don't like my nose. Sometimes I think of getting a nose job. My hair could be longer" She shrugged.
"I think your nose adds to your exotic beauty, and your hair is perfect" He shrugged casually and observed as her frowned features lightened. Her entire body visibly relaxed in front of him, even the unconscious kicking of her leg slowed. She was suddenly more comfortable sitting in the range of his view.
The young woman was obviously very beautiful. Ahmad learned during his years of therapy, that the prettiest women had the lowest self esteem. It was rough getting them to realize. Especially the young haughty ones who believed they had everything figured out..like the one sitting in front of him.
"Ghana I mean self hate. I mean self doubt, insecurity and depression. In this therapy we will be learning about you layer by layer. I will only go as far as you want to. If you're uncomfortable in any shape or form please let me know"
Sounds like sex, Ghana thought as she nodded.
He made a mental note of the older man she got involved with at sixteen. Ghana spared the details of her family's pastor. He noted the verbal abuser she got involved with only earlier this year. The relationship lasted a month before another man convinced her he could do her better. For three months she dated the second one until he punched her unconscious one argument. He felt she had too much mouth and reminded her like the first guy that she was only a stupid ass stripper. Ghana left him never one for physical abuse. She would end up serving a life sentence for man slaughter if she continued with that relationship. Then there was her most recent, the good boy.
"I would of walked all over him. He was too good"
"You keep saying that. What is too good?" He asked, one of the few times he interrupted her.
"He was asking me to quit my job saying he would take care of me. He claimed to be in love with me and admitted that he wanted me to be the mother of his children. I didn't know how to end that so I just dipped. He still doesn't know where I'm at. I just moved to this apartment like a month and a half ago"
