Page 118 of Rather: The Therapist

555-230-9917.

The first ring pushed me deeper into the couch. I gnawed my bottom lip, preparing to end the call if I didn’t have an answer by the third ring. It was the second one that had my breath caught in my chest.

Anxiously, I waited for the familiar tenor to disrupt my entire nervous system. Instead, I was lulled by rhythmic breathing. I drew blanks. One after the other.

His presence was so commanding. So paralyzing. It stripped me of my power. It stripped me of the education I’d spent my entire life acquiring.

I want to kiss you deeply.

See your handsome face.

Touch your dark, flawless skin.

Tell you things I’ve been doing… been thinking.

Listen to your heart as it beats against my ear.

Hug away your worries and patch your wounds.

The silence was loud and it was obnoxious. Though I wanted it to end, all the things I wanted to say, all the things I could say, I knew I shouldn’t. So, instead, I breathed into the phone, matching each breath he pulled in and released.

“Rather.” Finally, Priest spoke into the phone.

“Yesss?” Hungrily. Desperately. Shamefully, I responded.

“I don’t like missing you.”

“I– Me either. Where are you?”

“Have you eaten?”

I sighed, remembering I hadn’t. “No.”

“Then, get dressed and meet me at the location I’m sending you now.”

“Pri–”

“I don’t want to hear shit, Rather. I don’t want to hear nothing if it isn’t those few words that’ll let me know I won’t end up at this address alone. So, what is it?”

I had no intention of protesting. I knew exactly what he wanted to hear and before I asked anything else, I’d validate his feelings. I’d acknowledge his hunger. I’d quench his thirst.

“I’m on my way.”

“Good. That’s all a nigga needs to hear.”

“That’s not all.”

“What else, my dear?”

“What do you want me in?”

“A red dress. Leave your piece. I’m all the protection you’ll need tonight.”

The call ended without notice. I fell back onto the cushion of the couch, unable to contain the explosion in my chest. My heart raced wildly, galloping like a horse at the Kentucky Derby.

Most women experienced the negative influence of a man’s presence. The kind that declined their health, sanity, and ability to navigate the world with a whole, fully-functioning heart. With a man beside them, they became the diminished version of themselves. And, when they passed a mirror, they hardly recognized the suppressed form of their beauty.

Not Priest.

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