The Amistad – Spring 2007 - COAS - Howard University

The Amistad – Spring 2007FICTIONTherapyMeilani ClayShe liked therapy. She liked knowing that this person would always listen to what she had to say withoutraised eyebrows or pats on the back, unless that’s what she wanted. She enjoyed the freedom that came withknowing someone was listening, listening carefully enough to take notes, ask questions, repeat things she’d saidbut not in that annoying way that people have where they try to pretend they’re listening by repeatingcompletely irrelevant things, like her father’s name, as if that had anything to do with the fact he didn’t knowshe existed. That’s why it was nice having a therapist. Someone who could decipher her body language, makeher infrequent eye contact mean something, make her shy smile mean something, because they meanteverything. Her therapist started off slowly. Asked her how she liked high school. Asked her what made herdecide to get her nose pierced. Asked her why she chose the shoes that she did, seeing as how they made herstand out. These things made her talk more, and more, session y session, until the real question arose. Thequestion the therapist had been skirting around in order to make her feel more comfortable, although hertherapist knew from the beginning why she was there. The therapist put the question simply, trying to subtlyaddress the issue. “So tell me, Leslie, if you don’t mind, what is your biggest fear?” Leslie did mind but hermother had insisted that these sessions were only to help, never hurt. And so she told her therapist the thing shewas most afraid of.“I’m afraid of rejection,” she said. She quickly dropped her eyes and began softly tugging at her fingers.“Well, many people are afraid of rejection, Leslie. You don’t have to feel alone in that.”“No. You don’t understand.”“What am I not understanding Leslie? If I’m going to help you, you have to help me.” The therapistleaned forward in her chair. She examined the girl in front of her, slouched down in a similar chair, pulling onher fingers, and began chewing on the pen she kept notes with.“I’m afraid of rejection by my father.” Leslie glanced up to measure her therapist’s reaction, and findingnothing but calm, sent her attention back to her hands.“Leslie, many teenagers your age feel anxiety about being accepted for who they are becoming by theirparents. It’s very common.”“But he doesn’t know I exist.” Leslie spoke softly, not really wanting to share this piece of news, butalso not wanting to hear her mother asking if she had gotten over her fear yet because she couldn’t afford to payfor these sessions forever.“I apologize, Leslie, but I couldn’t hear you.”“He doesn’t know I exist.” Leslie stopped tugging her fingers and sharply raised her head. “He doesn’tknow me. I’m just a stranger to him.”-- 21 --