"I don't know. I love my son, but I just can't accept the thought of him kissing no boys, and Lord only knows what else they do. It's weird, I don't care what you say."

"Okay," she says. "We can come back to this issue another time, if you don't mind?"

"No, I don't mind. But what about my husband? And my sister who don't like me and always accusing me of being jealous of her, which is not true? And then, before my mama pa.s.sed, she asked that all her kids spend Thanksgiving together, and I'm supposed to go to my sister's fancy big house when deep down I don't want to, but if I don't, I'll be labeled the wicked witch, and I don't want no more friction if it can be avoided. So what you think about this?"

"Wow. That's a mouthful. How about we start by talking about your situation with your husband?"

"I'm listening."

"What do you think about it?"

"He's a liar and I don't trust him."

"I think that makes a lot of sense. Given what you've said here about him, it would be hard to trust him."

"So you think I should go on and divorce him?"

"I think we have to figure out what you really want to do about this. I imagine you have mixed feelings and are conflicted about some of this."

"Yeah, but so what?"

"What kinds of things does he lie about?"

"I only caught him in two. But they was two big ones."

"Can you tell me what they were?"

"Yeah. Ten years ago he had a affair with some woman and I busted him on it, and now I just find out that she had his baby and he been taking care of it all these years."

"And?"

"And that's it."

"That's why you want to divorce him?"

"Yeah, wouldn't you?"

"I can't say what I'd do in this situation. I'm more interested in what you're feeling."

"I'm p.i.s.sed off. I hate his guts. I don't trust him. Don't believe a word he say."

"Do you still love him?"

"That's beside the point."

"That's beside the point?" the doctor says. Is she a echo doctor or what?

"What's love got to do with it? Like Tina said."

"Charlotte," she says, folding her hands.

"Yeah."

"Tell me why you're here. What you want me to help you do."

"I told you on the questionnaire. I want to make some changes in my life, and it's so much stuff going on I just don't know where to start. I need to sort some of it out."

"Well, you are starting. You're here, today." She takes a quick peek at her watch.

"Is my time up already?"

"Not quite. About ten more minutes. We stop at ten to the hour."

"Okay," I say, trying to hurry up. "I also wanna talk about my job."

"What about your job?"

"I hate it. I wanna quit. I work for the post office, but I wanna start my own business and stop punching in and punching out. I'm tired of getting up at the crack of dawn five days a week and still ain't making no money. I wanna do something on my own. I forgot to mention that I hit Little Lotto for a hundred thousand."

"Wow, that should've come in handy."

"It'll be gone before Christmas at the rate I'm spending it."

"So-do you have any entrepreneurial ideas?"

"A few."

"Tell me."

Why she have to put me on the spot like this? s.h.i.t. I don't know, but I hear myself say, "I wouldn't mind starring my own catering business, 'cause I'm a good cook and I know all kinds of rich people from the routes my carriers deliver to, and a lot of 'em been knowing me for years, when I used to do the same routes. That would be one."

"Do you know much about this business?" "I could learn. My sister does something like this out in California."

"Perhaps you could ask her for advice?"

"No. I wouldn't wanna do that."

"Why not?"

"I don't wanna get into that right now."

"Okay. Any other ideas?"

"I can sew. 1 was thinking of maybe doing some upholstering or making drapes, or maybe learning how to do interior decorating, or refinishing furniture, I don't know."

"These all sound like great ideas. And fun, creative things to do. A lot of successful people in these areas."

"Yeah, I just want one that's gon' be the most profitable."

She looks up at me like I just said the wrong thing. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she says. "Money is really important to you, then?"

"Ain't it to you?"

"Yes. But I'm more curious as to how vital it is. I mean, would you choose to do something you didn't feel pa.s.sionate about because it made you more money, versus something you felt pa.s.sionate about that didn't make quite as much?"

"I can learn to like a lotta things. I been at the post office for eighteen years and it's just starting to get on my nerves. I just need a bigger payoff."

"Okay," she says, in a sing-song voice.

She's getting on my nerves. We ain't solved nothing in all this time, and I thought I'd be able to walk outta here with some solutions. "What about my husband? What should I do about him?"

"Oh, Charlotte. I can't answer a question like that for you."

"Why not?"

"First of all, I don't tell my patients what to do, I try to ask questions so that you discover the best way to resolve a situation, and sometimes that requires more than one session. I mean, you have a history with this man. There are so many issues that come into play, and we haven't even begun to discuss them yet. Would you like to start there next time?"

"I guess so. But just tell me. Based on what you do know, do you or do you not think I should divorce him?"

She picks up her yellow pencil and then puts it back down, real slow. "1 can't answer that question, Charlotte, and it would be totally unprofessional for me to even try. Let's talk about this further next time. When can you come back to see me?"

"I don't know," I say, getting up.

"I'm open this time next week."

"Let me check my schedule and I'll call you, okay?"

"Okay," she says, and stands up and conies from around her desk. d.a.m.n. She must be about six feet tall. No wonder she ain't got no husband. I shake her hand and tell her I'm looking forward to seeing her next week, but as soon as I get outside, I take that little business card she gave me and throw it in the first trash can I come to.

Well, this is a switch. First of all, Dr. Cecily Greene's office ain't even in no office building. It's in a brownstone. When I walk in, there's a litde rock fountain in the hallway with water trickling through it. It's pretty. I smell incense burning. Whatever kind it is, I like it. And is that jazz I hear playing in the background? Before I get a chance to sit down, a handsome woman in her early forties with a short curly afro and great makeup application opens the door and smiles at me.

"h.e.l.lo, Charlotte. I'm Dr. Greene, but please feel free to call me Cecily."

"Okay," I say. She smells good, too. What is that she's wearing? If I get a litde closer, maybe it'll hit me. When she turns around, I'm almost staring her in the face. I feel like a d.a.m.n fool. "What's that perfume you wearing?"

"It's a combination of essential oils."

"What kinda oils?"

"Jasmine, ylang-ylang, and geranium."

"Never heard of 'em."

"I've got an extra little botde I keep here in my office you can have."

"No, I wouldn't want you to do that."

"I mix them myself. It's no problem."

"Thanks."

"So-sit anywhere you like," she says, pointing to two big thick oversized velour chairs. Purple with orange piping. Nice. Across from them is a loveseat, and this is a deep-tangerine color with purple piping. I sit in one of the chairs. She got a few books and what looks like medical journals stacked on one side of her desk, which looks like a antique. I see a Essence magazine and Black Enterprise and a crossword puzzle and a coffee cup with a teabag hanging over it that's sitting on one of them little cup-warmers. There's a purple gla.s.s dish sitting on the corner of the desk and it's full of hard candy and mints. I want one, but I ain't gon' take one.

"Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice?"

"Nope. I'm fine."

She walks over and turns the music off and then comes and sits across from me. I don't know why I ain't nervous.

"So-Lela referred you to me."

"Yep."

"Good. She's nice. A very smart sister. So, tell me, Charlotte, what can I do for you?"

She used the term "sister"? I can't believe a doctor would say that, but I like it. "I don't know, Cecily," I say. "Where's your questionnaire?"

"I don't use one."

"Why not?"

"Because they don't really tell me anything about you as an individual. It just puts you in a yes-or-no square box, you feel me?"

Did she just say, "You feel me?" She did. Yes she did. I like this, too. "Yeah, I do," I say, and just look at her.

"Let me tell you how I work. First of all, most of my patients come to me because they've had some kind of trauma or negative experience and they're suffering. One of my goals is to help relieve some of your suffering and help you to learn something about yourself. But it's something we do together."

"Okay, but I don't really feel like I'm suffering, except over the death of my mama, but when it comes to everything else, I'm just p.i.s.sed off."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother."

"Thank you."

"Who are you p.i.s.sed off at?"

"At my husband, my older sister, and my son. Some days my daughters is on the list, but not today. That's it for right now."

"Well, let me tell you how we can start. If you feel comfortable with me, during our first three sessions my hope is to begin to get a clearer picture of you and your background. This includes everything from what you believe in to any traumatic experiences you may have had, such as the loss of your mother-and that's a biggie for most of us. As time goes on, when we're really getting somewhere, these will probably be the times when you're going to feel a little uncomfortable because I may say something that stirs something up. This is when you might not want to come back, but this is when we're getting beneath the surface. This is when many of my patients start to cancel appointments and become angry with me to some degree, because they want to blame me for their discomfort."

"I won't do that," I hear myself say.

"Let's hope not. So-you have one sister for sure; do you have other siblings, Charlotte?"

"I have a older sister and a younger brother and sister."

"So you're in the middle."