Page 47 of Rather: The Therapist

Without women, life isn’t possible. The quicker the world remembers that, the better the world will be.

Society’s secret vendetta against the woman’s body, heart, mind, femininity, fragility, sensitivity, and vulnerability has shaped the thoughts and expectations of women near and far.

It has most hating nearly everything about themselves simply because the world is quietly whispering just how much she should each time she unlocks her phone, sees a billboard, boards a plane, walks into an office, or tries to abort a child who is the result of an assault.

Women are hated by everyone, including each other. It angers me. The way women are torn apart, piece by piece, is disheartening. And, I’ve learned the work begins on the inside and that came from being surrounded by powerful women day in and day out.

Discovering yourself is the first step. Becoming sure of yourself is the second step. Loving yourself, unconditionally, is the final step.

Along with the draft I’d created, I removed the box of markers from my bag. My headphones were next. I covered my ears and put my favorite playlist on shuffle. As the marker struck the page, the Wifi connected and melodies finally filled my ears.

“I need a gangstaaaa.”

At the sound of Kehlani’s voice, my entire body stiffened. After the third line, I regained mobility in my limbs. Dramatically, I mashed my screen with my fingertip. Skipping the song that reminded me of a finer time led me to Read, a Lucky Daye piece that was timeless.

Fuck.

Sifting through my thoughts, I found more pleasant ones that included the women who filled the pages of the draft I was preparing to color. The line art meant for the mental and emotional therapy for women everywhere happened to be images of the women in my world who helped me discover myself. They captured them so perfectly.

Quickly, I got lost filling in the lines that connected to make Roaman’s frame. Next came Roulette. And, then, there was Rugger. By the time I turned another page and found Rome’s pretty face staring back at me, the wheels of the plane contacted the pavement carved for the private aircrafts.

With any luck, it would be the family I was marrying into on the tarmac and not the Federal agents tasked with my family’s demise. I gathered my art supplies and stuffed them in the container they’d come in before stuffing it into my bag along with the first copy of my pending publication.

The Hermès Birkin fit them both, along with my headphones and other necessities, perfectly. I stood on my feet as I began typing a simple text to the group full of my siblings and our mother.

I’ve arrived.

A slew of responses began pouring in. I dropped the phone into my purse, deciding to update them once I was settled and comfortable. I exited the plane with my chin in the air and my chest to centimeters further than its normal positions. My shoes collided with the plush rug beneath me before making my presence known as they sounded off on the concrete.

A handsome, older man removed his hat from his head and placed both hands in front of him as I neared. The woman beside him with the blinding rock on her finger was all smiles.

“Kalvin Valentine.” The man spoke first.

“Ashland Valentine.” The woman I’d swiftly learned was his wife followed his lead.

The in-laws. I surmised.

“My condolences for your loss. Richie was a fine gentleman and a good friend of–”

“Richie didn’t have friends, Kalvin. Richie had associates. His friends lived in the same house as him, he raised them, and caught them all during birth with his bare hands.”

A long pause left us all staring back at one another. And, finally, a smile peeled his lips back.

“Rather, is it?”

I angled my head as I tittered, blinking slowly. “We both know my name is not a mystery here.”

“Richie Jr. That’s what they should’ve named you.”

“That would make it quite difficult to determine the names of the rest of his children and quite impossible to tell us apart.”

“I like her, Ashland. She and Kofi will get along just fine,” he chuckled.

“Or not at all,” his wife joined him. “Welcome to the family, Rather. Your car is waiting. Dinner will be served in two hours. We’re expecting you there. Tardiness is unacceptable.”

“And an insult to character. I’ll be there. On time.”

“Good,” she responded with a nod.

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