Page 65 of Rather: The Therapist

“Don’t go joy riding, either. You can’t handle what’s under that hood, nigga.”

“I won’t.”

Kofi linked our fingers and ushered me to the door. The breeze wrapped my body in small, fine bumps. I leaned against the six foot frame beside me, hoping to capture his warmth.

Dark carpet covered the floors. Dim lights traveled the length and width of the building. Games sat inches apart from one another, waiting for human interaction. Through the main floor, we continued until we stopped in front of an elevator.

“Cold?”

Attention to detail.

Thrill-seeker.

Promiscuous.

Short attention span.

I parted the notebook that held nearly every thought I’d ever had and began making mental notes. Kofi was in a separate section. A special section. The section I’d revisit more often than not for the success of a marriage that I was beginning to look forward to.

He’s a fun guy.

In so many ways, I could use one in the world. Everything was always business. Always work. Always calculated. Always planned. Always a step in the right direction. Always the best decision.

The last two years of exile taught me so much about myself and how much of my identity was wrapped into my family’s operation. Without cases in front of me or assignments from Chemistry, I was lost for the first full year. It wasn’t until year two that I began discovering Rather. Who she is. What she likes. Where she is mentally and emotionally.

The balance between work and life will come easy, because he’ll make sure we’re living as much as we’re working. Surely.

“I am.”

As we waited for the elevator doors to close, his hands slid up and down my arms.

“They’re going to have to turn this shit up.”

“The heat?” I questioned, a bit confused by what he was referring to.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sure I’ll feel better when I start moving.”

He bear-hugged me, pressing his chest against my face and covering as much of me as he could. Inhaling his fragrance, I closed my eyes and disappeared somewhere in our pending future when the sheets possessed his scent.

And, no matter how many times I washed them I couldn’t remove it because he was ingrained in the threads. They remembered him. So did I. So did my body. So did my mind. So did my heart.

“We’re not going to wait to figure it out.”

We reached a secluded area seconds after exiting the elevator. Immediately, Kofi encountered a staff member.

“Welcome t–”

“She’s cold. I need the temperature a bit more suitable up here. Handle that and then we can talk.”

“Sure thing, Sir. I’ll get right on it.”

“That’s what I like to hear–” Kofi paused to read the nametag of the employer while tapping his cheek with his palm in a steady motion. “Joel.”

Joel scurried in the other direction as we continued in stride. It wasn’t long before I realized we were the only two people on the third floor.

“Ready to get your ass whooped?”

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