Page 46 of Rather: The Therapist

Our advancement in life started at very young ages. At two, Jru knew every color, every alphabet, every number, every animal, every continent, every ocean, every fruit, every vegetable, and the list continued. Roaman was teaching her the intricacies of the brain, their functions, and surgical procedures that were designed to cure the diseases, disabilities, and dysfunctions they studied.

Rome had her on the tips of her toes the first day she learned to walk without assistance. She was stunning on the floor, just like her aunt. Range was increasing her comprehension skills and making her quick on her toes with quizzes about laws, rules, and regulations. Without a doubt she’d win an argument and make a solid case against any three year old although she hadn’t reached that milestone just yet.

For starters, she spoke fluently and her vocabulary was expansive. They wouldn’t stand a chance. Royce taught her simple life skills that would help improve her independence. Roulette’s lessons were simple. Fuck niggas, get money, but never spend your own. Jru was the sheep being raised by wolves. But, by the time she reached adulthood, she’d be everything we dreamt.

“Baby, it’s tim–” Chemistry began, rubbing the center of my back.

“Alright, Chemistry. I’m going.”

I slipped from Jru’s arms.

“I love you, Bubs.”

“Evewry lie-time.”

“Every lifetime, baby.”

She was out for my heart. Her head landed on Rome’s shoulder and those tears she was trying to fight came falling. To save me some pain, she turned her head so I wouldn’t see her release her emotional discontent. I felt it. All of it.

My baby.

“Rather.” Chemistry said barely above a whisper.

“Coming. I promise.”

We were working with a very small window. Timing was critical. Hadn’t it been, Chem would keep the pilot waiting until the plane ran out of fuel. However, he couldn’t. We couldn’t.

I climbed the steps alone as my family waited at the very bottom. Roaman’s heart couldn’t handle my departure. She had run off to her house after the quickest farewell I’d ever experienced. Her heart was pure, though, and I knew it was just as fragile.

I entered the cabin without taking a look over my shoulders. It was heartbreak waiting to happen. To spare us all, I strutted down the aisle of the aircraft and sat in the very back where the shades were stretched over the window and my view of the island was obstructed.

As I settled in and the door was sealed, I removed The Self-Discovery Project, a piece of work I’d been working on over the last eight months. The workbook doubled as an adult activity book with plenty of space for self-reflection and journaling.

Everything I valued and stood behind as a licensed therapist, woman, sister, friend, and human rested within the pages I carefully curated day in and day out. So many had bit the dust and not made the second round of evaluation, because they didn’t suit the vision or truly embody the message I was trying to get across. It was fairly simple.

Women are doers.

Women are human.

Women are feelers.

Women are thinkers.

Women are more than objects.

Women deserve softness and support.

Women owe no explanation for our rightful nature.

Women should govern their own bodies, minds, and hearts.

Women deserve grace from everyone in their lives, including self.

Women are the most fragile beings on the planet and should be treated as such.

Women are the superior gender. Put a man in our shoes and his ankles will bleed.

Women’s femininity is a direct reflection of the masculine energy that surrounds them.

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