Page 62 of Rather: The Therapist

“Is that right?” I chuckled, amused by his honesty.

“Yeah. Though I apologize for my tardiness, make no mistakes. I respect your time. I value this shit we’re being forced into, but who the fuck wants to meet for coffee at ten in the morning on a Monday?”

“Me,” I reminded him.

“Obviously.”

“This doesn’t have to be difficult, Kofi. This arrangement– it’ll be whatever we make of it. And, for me, I want to make the best of it. That starts now. I just need to know you’re on board, because I will not exert all my energy while you hardly give any. There needs to be an equal amount of effort to balance this all out. I’m willing to give it everything if you’re willing to do the same.”

With an angled head, he brushed his beard. My heart fell to the pit of my stomach as I waited for whatever was in his head to come from his mouth. I knew it was only a matter of seconds. Kofi had made it clear last night that he had a difficult time holding onto his thoughts.

“That’s where the bitterness to this otherwise sweet opportunity comes into play. This was not my idea, love. And, that’s not to discourage you or devalue you in any way. That’s just me being frank. My people consider me a walking train wreck. Because of my history, they have every right to.”

“However, forcing me into a relationship I didn’t ask for nor want at this point in my life in an attempt to save me from self-destruction is so over the fucking top. I almost lost my life two years ago. It took me eighteen fucking months to recover. Eighteen.”

“And, that wasn’t a full recovery. Until four months ago, I was still fighting to get back to myself after breaking almost every bone in my body, including injuring my spine. I’m not supposed to be sitting here talking to you today, but I am. And, in my opinion, jumping into a relationship after that shit is– it’s not what I want to do.”

“They’re scared. I scare them. The idea of my death scares them. And, you happen to be a casualty of that fear. When I say I am not ready, Rather, please believe me. Don’t let me show you. That shit will be painful and the last thing I want to do is hurt you. But, I’m not ready.”

“This isn’t up for debate, Kofi. I have been sacrificed. Do you understand this?”

“I do. Fully. But, as you said, this will be exactly what we make of it.”

“So, what are you proposing?”

“The full ninety days.”

“For what, exactly?”

“For preparation. I’m not ready, but I can get ready if you just give me that time. I lik– I love pussy, Rather. All kinds. All sizes. All depths. And, I will not stop sliding in them just because my fucking father thinks I’ll die soon if I don’t settle down and have a fucking family.”

“I’m only a few months into full mobility. It wasn’t until the last two months that I started feeling like myself again. I’m not ready to sit down and I won’t. Not yet. So, for the next eighty-something days, I’ll continue to explore. Continue to do whatever my single ass pleases.”

“But, the day I am obligated to our commitment is the day it all stops. Everything. And, I devote myself completely and wholly to you.”

“And, during that time, I just hang around hoping you’ll actually be ready?”

“No, we still get to know each other. We date. We court. We learn each other’s fears and favorite colors and shit. Whatever they do in relationships.”

“You’ve never been in one?”

“I haven’t and wasn’t planning on it either.”

“Yet, here I am.”

“Here you are,” he said, nodding.

Taking a look at his handsome face, I softened. His honesty was appreciated though it wasn’t something I’d expected to ruffle my feathers. This wasn’t the ideal meeting, but it was progressive, nonetheless. I knew where he stood, what he wanted, and how he was feeling. He knew where I stood, what I’d accept, and how I was feeling as well.

“Fine.”

I sipped from the cup of coffee.

“Fine. I’ll give you the full ninety days, because whether you’re ready or not the wedding is happening and before I allow you to make a fool of me in marriage, I will make you regret surviving that accident.”

“Wh– wait. Wha–”

“I let you talk. Now it’s my turn. You’ve laid down your ground rules, so here are mine.”

---