Left In The Dark

Chapter 21

"I think you should go back." He repeated for the third time.

I was curled up in a little ball in the middle of my bed, wrapped in a quilted blanket. Ignoring his suggestion again, I busied myself with some loose threads, twirling the strand around my finger before plucking it out. I chewed my bottom lip and remained quiet.

"Beyoncé I know you hear me." Al lightly scolded through the phone.

I sighed before yanking another thread from the quilt.

"I know." I mumbled and pulled myself up into a seated position. "I just don't want to."

"Why not? You even said so yourself that it wasn't all that bad." He took pleasure in reminding me of my words a few days ago.

I could see the stupid smug on his face through the phone. A cocky and crooked smile with his head tilted up. I pushed out a long and exaggerated breath through tight lips which made him chuckle. He knew he had me.

"I know, but..." I scanned my brain for the excuse I know I didn't have.

"But nothing."

I flicked another piece of string across the bed while listening to his griping about me going back to therapy. Truth be told, he was right and I didn't have any reason to not return. But I was stubborn. All I could think about is the way I ended my sessions with Gabrielle. I'm sure my storming out left a bad taste in her mouth about me. And on top of that, it's been over 3 weeks since I last stepped foot in her office. I haven't been keeping count, but I'm pretty sure I wasted the last few sessions that I did have left with her. Kelly and Michelle still don't know about that.

I rubbed my forehead still engaged in my internal conflict. It's probably best that I stayed away. That option made more sense in my head.

"It's been way too long." I bemoaned hoping he would see the sense that I saw.

"And whose fault is that Beyoncé?"

"Mine."

I sighed heavily. It was like I felt his arms blanketed around me when Al's tone changed.

"You know I care about you right?" He said soothingly.

I nodded like if he were in the room and could see me. "I know."

"Good. And all I'm saying is that you've come a long way and you need to keep pushing. Turning back now will only leave you stuck in that deep hole, trust me." He paused letting his words hang on the line.

They seeped through my earphone and reached out to me, feeling like a soft caress on the cheek. I clenched the phone.

"You can do this." He encouraged.

Since that turbulent, emotional, but cathartic weekend at Al's house, we've grown closer. We were comforted in the familiarity of each others' sorrow. The shared pain was like our umbilical cord. It kept us connected. It was strange to think that heartache could bond two individuals together-like how love was supposed to. But it did with us. Whenever I experienced that suffocating feeling, where things got too heavy and I felt like I was ready to drown, I would call him. He would pull me up to the surface before I did and give me the breath that I needed. Simple gestures that he would do or little words of encouragement he would say were very impactful to me. Unlike in going to therapy, he provided something for me that I didn't get with Dr. Union. His words weren't clinical. They were empathetic. There was an unspoken understanding because he could instantly relate. How did that make you feel, were excess and irrelevant words. He already knew. I didn't have to explain that to him.

I sniffled. "Why can't you just be my therapist?" I asked in slight humor.

I was partially serious. I would rather vent to him. Al laughed richly which made me chuckle a little myself.