It depends on what they got going on. Silicone when they aren’t using toys or for a longer session because they don’t have to reapply as much. That’s their usual. Water when they’re going the extra mile with toys to keep from ruining them.
my toxic trait used to be that i genuinely didn't believe i had issues that would cause me to go to therapy your latest work had me thinking about this
it took me a long time to have a desire to do anything other than be a mother after my first child
i've always wanted to be one(that and a wife) so when i became i mother i genuinely got absorbed by it and that didn't happen when i became a wife
i didn't know how to navigate it really nobody knew how to help me or get me to realize that i needed my own life
eventually i crashed and burned 😭
i needed to have my life outside of motherhood which was hard for me because i identified with it sooo much and still do
at 12 i wanted to be the president and have 5 kids and a husband that looked like laurence fishburne in the hoodlum movie 😭
i WISH i would've gotten therapy sooner so i could have better navigated that because back then if you would've asked me "how do you think you would be as a mother?" my answer alone would've hinted at these future problems
I SAY ALL OF THIS TO SAY GET THERAPY BEFORE KIDS!! not just for the kids but also for yourself
This is super interesting! Thank you for sharing!
I (obviously) agree that many people are not aware of how their upbringing or just general life affect how they move through the world. For women specifically, there’s this thought around parenthood that it’s what we’re supposed to do and we’ll just figure it out without much help from others. Couple that with not knowing how to navigate your own emotions and sense of self, and now you have a whole storm on your hands that can lead to exhaustion and unwittingly taking out your frustrations on others.
Honestly, much of Terry’s current and future journey is based around my own relationship with my father who very much treats me like a son. Maybe that’s why I connect with some of what Aaron and Kelvin have said about their dads. However, I think it has also evolved into some of my feelings around parenthood.
That said, I’m glad that you’ve taken steps into exploring your own journey! Taking care of yourself is always the best place to start when trying to take care of others in any capacity. I appreciate you for reading and sharing this.
Asia would’ve been like “OH HELL, KELVIN! READ IT!” 😂😂😂
Took his whole moment of praise right back down lmao. He always wanna sing something at the wrong time. Don’t let him have the toy instruments. Now it’s time to get the band together.
Is Patrice allowed (for lack of better term) to swoon over her celebrity crushes? Or do she gotta keep it cute like Terry? Does he get a little jealous when she sees them on tv?
Of course! But she still would either way 😂. She see Kofi or somebody she likes on TV and she gone shake her head and say “Mm. He know he fine.” Then look at Terry and say “But not as fine you, Pookie Bear.”
Terry can say what he wants too. He just starts popping his eyes out of his head like Looney Toon and Patrice gotta threaten them back in.
Terry would collapse if one of the twins told him that they footed the bill for a man 😂
“So you…paid for him? With your money?”
“I have a job, James,” Zanah scoffs as she rolls her eyes hard enough to convey her point. “I can pay for things sometimes.”
“No, I know what you can do. I’m trying to figure out the why. Why did you pay for that? Why did he allow you to pay for that? It’s fuckin’ dinner, not a new engine. He don’t have dinner money? You talkin’ to niggas who don’t have dinner money? He think he a princess too?”
Patrice shakes her head and reaches for her glass of wine at the dinner table. “Terrence, that’s her business.” She takes a short sip to wash down an urge to agree with her husband. “Zanah is grown and you aren’t her dad.”
“Thank you, Treece! If I wanted to talk to daddy, I would’ve called him.”
“Talk to him and tell him what? That you footing the bill for pretty niggas to eat vegan pasta? You wanna kill him? We only get one dad, Z! Don’t kill my daddy with that foolish talk!”
How does Asia feel about Kel growing his hair out lol?
She loves his curls! He like to get some cornrows and try to get outside himself and she has to get him back down to earth, but she loves his longer hair 😂
Terry closing up just like his deddy when dealing with his emotions 🙂↔️
Look at that apple right next to the tree 😌
Immediately was like no thank you. Brother, you are here to discuss your feelings. How you not gone discuss your feelings but be actively feeling things???
Summary: Terry takes on his first therapy session.
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)
Word Count: 2,612
Warnings: Mentions of behavioral health, pregnancy, and therapy.
Previous: Searching
Dr. Gaines was a Duke fan.
The signed Blue Devils basketball in the background slowed Terry down like a fender bender pauses highway traffic. Had he known his first foray into therapy included a virtual session with someone bold enough to pledge allegiance to the school on the wrong end of Tobacco Rd., he would’ve spent less time picking individual seeds off the strawberries Patrice left him as a snack to quell his uneven breathing and more of his energy selecting another doctor.
When he glanced down at his bright blue Tar Heels t-shirt, Dr. Gaines’ laugh rolled through the laptop speakers.
“Say, man, I thought I had a section for any additional notes you had for me in the intake paperwork. You forgot a piece of the puzzle! We’re starting this off all wrong.”
Terry’s ears twitched, catching a hint of something pleasant, before his shoulders relaxed. The doctor’s accent, accompanying his cheerful tone, carried northern sensibilities out of place in the Southern bubble Terry had created for himself in Fayetteville. A smile softened every muscle in his face before he could make a different decision.
“I thought anybody around here picked the right side,” Terry said, chuckling. “Especially with you being a doctor and all.”
Dr. Gaines lifted his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from D.C.! Quinn Cook went to Duke, and that’s my mans, so I had to support. I promise not to let that drive a wedge between us if you promise, too. Cool?”
“Yeah, that works for me. There’s a first time for everything.”
The two men shared easygoing laughter to seal their truce in the sanctity of Patrice’s makeshift library. Terry’s stilted breathing relaxed into even pulls in through his nose and out through his mouth as he settled into the creaking leather desk chair. He reached for a strawberry in the bowl beside him.
“Is it cool if I eat while we talk? Kinda need something to do with my hands.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dr. Gaines answered as he scribbled a note onto his pad. “Do what you need to do, man. Get loose. You're always this prepared?”
Terry shook his head as he swallowed a bite. “No, that’s my wife’s contribution.” He smiled and nodded toward the door on his left. “She’s nesting and testing out her mom skills on me. Packed me a snack like I’m in kindergarten.”
Thoughts of Patrice waddling around the kitchen, singing to herself as she picked through ripe strawberries for the best of the bunch, unleashed warmth in Terry’s stomach. He blushed before he could stop himself. Dr. Gaines took note as he wrote without looking down.
“We’ll come back to that,” he said, nodding to himself. “But nesting! Congratulations! How much time left before the new addition?”
“We’ve got a month starting tomorrow. I don’t even want to think about what her nursery looks like right now.”
Dr. Gaines flashed a pure white smile that contrasted with his cool, dark skin. “Ah, man, it all comes together. This is the part you look back on later when they’re throwing those same strawberries back at you from the high chair.” Terry considered a future version of his daughter giggling as she tossed food onto the kitchen floor, then grinned. “Would you say that’s what has you wanting to try therapy or something else?”
“A little of that. A little stress overall. Maybe some…fear?” Terry shook his head as soon as the words tumbled from his lips. “Nah, that’s not it. Just stress. Family stuff. Upbringing.”
“If it were fear, would that be a problem for you?”
Terry mulled over the question. “Guess I’ve never considered what it might mean. I’ve only thought about not being afraid.”
Pen striking paper on the other side of the screen came through the speakers like a taunt. Terry leaned forward in his chair and frowned, desperate to know what was so important in his few words that required ten seconds of uninterrupted writing. Dr. Gaines looked up and offered a nonchalant shrug.
“Just a few notes to help me determine where we go next,” he said. “Take me back to what you said about your upbringing. What was that like?”
“Are you sure you have enough time for that?” Terry asked, scoffing as he sat back. “What is this, an hour session?”
Dr. Gaines nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Lay it on me.”
The rickety ceiling fan overhead, circulating cool air to combat summer’s cruel assault, suddenly felt inadequate. The heat licking at Terry’s skin was more a memory than a fact. It was the heat of his father’s anger in the backseat of his pickup truck, while citrus coated his tongue to ease the pain of loss. A botched play during the first game of his pee-wee league season had resulted in a defeat that most other parents accepted with high-fives before levying affirmations and well-wishes on their children. Cold water and orange slices were like comfort blankets. Adults walked around saying variations of “You’ll get ‘em next time!” and “Who wants pizza?” Marvin, however, said nothing. Instead, he pointed at the old Chevy across the parking lot and set off on foot before Terry could pull a fresh drink from the team cooler.
Terry sat behind the driver’s seat to avoid his father’s icy glare in the rearview mirror. That didn’t stop Marvin from lowering the volume on his favorite oldies station to address his son.
“If you’re planning to waste my money, let me know right now. I can spend that on golf clubs instead.”
He knew better than to answer. Anything he said risked being reframed as defiance or an excuse if he wasn’t careful. But he couldn’t help but respond. “Dad, I got the next one, though. We almost won!”
“Almost,” Marvin said, the word sounding vile on his tongue. “Nobody gets credit for an almost, boy. You either did or you didn’t. This time you didn’t. If it happens again, consider yourself a pianist. I’m sure Miss Regina would be happy to have you twice a week.”
The hot vinyl seat stuck to his legs as the air thickened with his father’s disappointment. He looked out the window at the passing landscape, counting utility poles, desperately trying to shrink until he was invisible. He didn’t cry. Crying would have been another expense. That day, he internalized a lesson: perfection was the only currency accepted for peace. If he performed with no errors, his father’s temper would remain dormant, locked away like a gun in a safe. Maybe he’d get a hug or a pat on the back as a reward. He considered the possibilities while Marvin drove the rest of the way in silence.
Dr. Gaines looked at the screen, his expression unreadable. “So, you learned to become invisible?”
“I learned how to get it right the first time,” Terry corrected, his stare into the camera unwavering as his flat tone settled over the conversation.
He learned other things that day, too. Like how to minimize his feelings to avoid his father’s wrath. How to channel anger into fuel. How to cry in secret. Each lesson fit into a messy emotional toolbox he still had trouble sorting through well into adulthood.
“Would you consider that your introduction to manhood? Always needing to get it right? No mistakes?”
Terry opened his mouth to speak, but paused to glare at Dr. Gaines prepared to capture another record of his wrongdoings. Another shortcoming. Another reason to hide.
Dr. Gaines’ eyes flickered up, then down at his hands. He sighed and sat back in his chair, abandoning the pen and pad just beyond his reach to get his first full look at the piercing set of eyes searching for answers beneath his steely exterior.
“I’m Kevin. You can call me Dr. Gaines if you want, if it feels more appropriate for you, but I’m just Kevin.” He drew a cross over his chest and pointed to the sky. “Hand to the man. We’re good.”
The pensive frown flattening Terry’s lips into a straight line curled into a small smile as Kevin lifted his right hand to the sky. He reached for another strawberry. “That easy?”
“That easy. You don’t gotta read me, man. Let’s talk. You and me for the next 45 minutes.”
Tension pinching his shoulder blades together loosened until Terry settled into a slump, weighed down by heavy mental and physical exhaustion. He looked up at the ceiling for comfort. “We won the Pee-wee Championship that year. Beat the shit out of the Seahawks. And I think that’s the first time my dad smiled at me that season. Damn near threw a party if my mama would’ve let him call enough people.”
Terry’s lips contorted into deep frown, contrasting he thin sheen shimmering over his pupils. He still remembered the way hot charcoal created grey, billowing smoke clouds in their backyard as his father detailed every catch his only son hauled in to save the team from a near-certain loss. Exaggerating. Marvin and his tall tales had commanded a small collection of willing listeners, nursing ice-cold beers around the grill, as he recounted a children’s football game as if it were the last seconds of the Super Bowl.
“He kept calling me James,” Terry said, finally meeting Dr. Gaines’s soft eyes. “We share a middle name. He was using my middle name — our middle name — because he was…proud of me.”
A charged silence sat between them for a moment. Introspection tickled Terry’s spine like sweat droplets under heavy football pads, touching the parts of his heart and mind he kept out of commission for good reason. Emotion strained his eyes, looking for permission to call a timeout and rest in the pain. He denied it.
“What’s that feel like for eight-year-old Terry?” Dr. Gaines asked.
“Euphoric,” Terry answered.
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Kevin showed an emotion other than his professional neutrality. His eyebrows lifted, mirroring the slight twitch in his fingers before he remembered his promise to leave his pen at rest.
“That’s heavy,” he conceded. “Would you say you’re still chasing that feeling? That high?”
As quickly as he’d opened up, Terry let his eyes go blank. “Nah,” he said, his tone rough and defiant. “I’m grown now. I don’t need that anymore.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Time to move on.”
Dr. Gaines leaned forward, prepared to test the hinges of the emotional door Terry had bolted shut. “You don’t have to be good in here. It’s normal to want your dad’s approval, and the shit is messy. Trust me. But being honest about it helps us get to the important work.”
Terry considered unlocking his heart for a beat, chewing his bottom lip. But when the bowl turned up empty, so did his desire to offer more than required. He reached up to rub the top of his head and shrugged away his vulnerabilities.
“There’s nothing else to say. We’re past that now. What else do you wanna know, my account and routing number?”
“Nah, man. That’s yours to keep.” Kevin leaned back in his chair, a cheeky grin on his face to match Terry’s light laughter. “We can move on. I want to get back to what you said about your wife earlier. The strawberries. What’s your home life look like right now?”
Finally, something Terry could talk about for hours.
They discussed the Richmond household’s dynamics in great detail, from domestic labor to the mundane inner workings of their weeknight dinners. His favorite? Grocery store trips every Saturday morning, waving to their crew of regulars and arguing over brands of jelly for the hell of it — to giggle at their secret language and make every one jealous of their love.
“I don’t know how she does it, man,” Terry explained, pride lacing his smile. “But she knows where everything is and everybody by name! I mean we get in there and they damn near roll out a red carptet for us. Am I allowed to cuss in here?”
He recounted as much as he could until his jaw ached from talking and he throat ran dry. Pure joy took over his being and inspired enough animation in his body to catch Dr. Gaines off guard. He sat there with a faint smile, noting every inflection and excited gesture for a future conversation.
“I can’t help but notice the way you perked up when it was time to talk about your wife.” Kevin laughed once Terry rubbed the back of his neck and presented a sheepish grin. “That’s perfectly normal, Terry. Refreshing, even. Sounds like you have a great support system.”
Terry looked toward the wedding photo on Patrice’s desk and nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if not for her, if I’m honest. I owe her my best.”
“And yourself. Don’t forget yourself in all this. Be a little selfish.”
Terry paused. “Yeah,” he said, the word trailing into the silence like vapor. “Maybe we can talk about that next time. Or over the next couple of weeks. However this works.”
Kevin nodded slowly, making no move for his pen. “Oh, so you’re sticking with me!” he laughed, glancing at the digital clock in the corner of his screen. “I can dig that. How you feelin’?”
Pink and orange hues peeking through the linen curtains across the room reminded him of the world outside. Terry shrugged without looking at Dr. Gaines. “Not too bad. I could use some time outside to think, I guess.” He turned back to the doctor. “I guess Duke ain’t so bad.”
Kevin let out a surprised yelp of laughter, the sound distorted through Patrice’s laptop speakers. “You know what? I’ll take it. Same time next week for you and your snack? Seems like they help you out.”
“Same time next week.”
Even after the line went quiet and the screen cleared, Terry kept his gaze steady, wondering if he’d made the best decision of his life or signed himself up for another bill he’d regret. He didn’t stew in contemplation for long. Instead, he pushed back from the desk, collected his dish, and set off on his favorite mission.
Patrice stood at the kitchen counter, humming to herself as she arranged flowers in her favorite vase. He paused in the living room for a moment, watching sunrays highlight the flecks of honey in her brown eyes. Her round belly sat low, promising a new arrival in only a few weeks. Cookie crumbs she hastily swiped away to hide evidence of her snacking detour still clung to parts of her dress she couldn’t see. No matter, though. Still the prettiest girl he’d ever encountered.
Terry slowly crossed the room, intent on wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. His hands found the bottom of her baby bump to carry her burden. Patrice sighed and leaned against him with her eyes closed.
“How’d it go, Pooh Bear?” she whispered, the question gentle, lacking any pressure for a full report.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, lingering to inhale the peach and musk on her skin. “Not too bad,” he said, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He’s a Duke fan.”
“Ew,” Patrice giggled. “And you stuck around? He must be great.”
“I think so. I’m gonna stick it out and see. For you and Ny.” He glanced at the empty porcelain bowl stained red from strawberry juice and let the words echoing in his mind bubble to the surface.
Summary: Terry takes on his first therapy session.
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)
Word Count: 2,612
Warnings: Mentions of behavioral health, pregnancy, and therapy.
Previous: Searching
Dr. Gaines was a Duke fan.
The signed Blue Devils basketball in the background slowed Terry down like a fender bender pauses highway traffic. Had he known his first foray into therapy included a virtual session with someone bold enough to pledge allegiance to the school on the wrong end of Tobacco Rd., he would’ve spent less time picking individual seeds off the strawberries Patrice left him as a snack to quell his uneven breathing and more of his energy selecting another doctor.
When he glanced down at his bright blue Tar Heels t-shirt, Dr. Gaines’ laugh rolled through the laptop speakers.
“Say, man, I thought I had a section for any additional notes you had for me in the intake paperwork. You forgot a piece of the puzzle! We’re starting this off all wrong.”
Terry’s ears twitched, catching a hint of something pleasant, before his shoulders relaxed. The doctor’s accent, accompanying his cheerful tone, carried northern sensibilities out of place in the Southern bubble Terry had created for himself in Fayetteville. A smile softened every muscle in his face before he could make a different decision.
“I thought anybody around here picked the right side,” Terry said, chuckling. “Especially with you being a doctor and all.”
Dr. Gaines lifted his hands in surrender. “Look, I’m from D.C.! Quinn Cook went to Duke, and that’s my mans, so I had to support. I promise not to let that drive a wedge between us if you promise, too. Cool?”
“Yeah, that works for me. There’s a first time for everything.”
The two men shared easygoing laughter to seal their truce in the sanctity of Patrice’s makeshift library. Terry’s stilted breathing relaxed into even pulls in through his nose and out through his mouth as he settled into the creaking leather desk chair. He reached for a strawberry in the bowl beside him.
“Is it cool if I eat while we talk? Kinda need something to do with my hands.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dr. Gaines answered as he scribbled a note onto his pad. “Do what you need to do, man. Get loose. You're always this prepared?”
Terry shook his head as he swallowed a bite. “No, that’s my wife’s contribution.” He smiled and nodded toward the door on his left. “She’s nesting and testing out her mom skills on me. Packed me a snack like I’m in kindergarten.”
Thoughts of Patrice waddling around the kitchen, singing to herself as she picked through ripe strawberries for the best of the bunch, unleashed warmth in Terry’s stomach. He blushed before he could stop himself. Dr. Gaines took note as he wrote without looking down.
“We’ll come back to that,” he said, nodding to himself. “But nesting! Congratulations! How much time left before the new addition?”
“We’ve got a month starting tomorrow. I don’t even want to think about what her nursery looks like right now.”
Dr. Gaines flashed a pure white smile that contrasted with his cool, dark skin. “Ah, man, it all comes together. This is the part you look back on later when they’re throwing those same strawberries back at you from the high chair.” Terry considered a future version of his daughter giggling as she tossed food onto the kitchen floor, then grinned. “Would you say that’s what has you wanting to try therapy or something else?”
“A little of that. A little stress overall. Maybe some…fear?” Terry shook his head as soon as the words tumbled from his lips. “Nah, that’s not it. Just stress. Family stuff. Upbringing.”
“If it were fear, would that be a problem for you?”
Terry mulled over the question. “Guess I’ve never considered what it might mean. I’ve only thought about not being afraid.”
Pen striking paper on the other side of the screen came through the speakers like a taunt. Terry leaned forward in his chair and frowned, desperate to know what was so important in his few words that required ten seconds of uninterrupted writing. Dr. Gaines looked up and offered a nonchalant shrug.
“Just a few notes to help me determine where we go next,” he said. “Take me back to what you said about your upbringing. What was that like?”
“Are you sure you have enough time for that?” Terry asked, scoffing as he sat back. “What is this, an hour session?”
Dr. Gaines nodded and smiled. “Don’t worry about that. Lay it on me.”
The rickety ceiling fan overhead, circulating cool air to combat summer’s cruel assault, suddenly felt inadequate. The heat licking at Terry’s skin was more a memory than a fact. It was the heat of his father’s anger in the backseat of his pickup truck, while citrus coated his tongue to ease the pain of loss. A botched play during the first game of his pee-wee league season had resulted in a defeat that most other parents accepted with high-fives before levying affirmations and well-wishes on their children. Cold water and orange slices were like comfort blankets. Adults walked around saying variations of “You’ll get ‘em next time!” and “Who wants pizza?” Marvin, however, said nothing. Instead, he pointed at the old Chevy across the parking lot and set off on foot before Terry could pull a fresh drink from the team cooler.
Terry sat behind the driver’s seat to avoid his father’s icy glare in the rearview mirror. That didn’t stop Marvin from lowering the volume on his favorite oldies station to address his son.
“If you’re planning to waste my money, let me know right now. I can spend that on golf clubs instead.”
He knew better than to answer. Anything he said risked being reframed as defiance or an excuse if he wasn’t careful. But he couldn’t help but respond. “Dad, I got the next one, though. We almost won!”
“Almost,” Marvin said, the word sounding vile on his tongue. “Nobody gets credit for an almost, boy. You either did or you didn’t. This time you didn’t. If it happens again, consider yourself a pianist. I’m sure Miss Regina would be happy to have you twice a week.”
The hot vinyl seat stuck to his legs as the air thickened with his father’s disappointment. He looked out the window at the passing landscape, counting utility poles, desperately trying to shrink until he was invisible. He didn’t cry. Crying would have been another expense. That day, he internalized a lesson: perfection was the only currency accepted for peace. If he performed with no errors, his father’s temper would remain dormant, locked away like a gun in a safe. Maybe he’d get a hug or a pat on the back as a reward. He considered the possibilities while Marvin drove the rest of the way in silence.
Dr. Gaines looked at the screen, his expression unreadable. “So, you learned to become invisible?”
“I learned how to get it right the first time,” Terry corrected, his stare into the camera unwavering as his flat tone settled over the conversation.
He learned other things that day, too. Like how to minimize his feelings to avoid his father’s wrath. How to channel anger into fuel. How to cry in secret. Each lesson fit into a messy emotional toolbox he still had trouble sorting through well into adulthood.
“Would you consider that your introduction to manhood? Always needing to get it right? No mistakes?”
Terry opened his mouth to speak, but paused to glare at Dr. Gaines prepared to capture another record of his wrongdoings. Another shortcoming. Another reason to hide.
Dr. Gaines’ eyes flickered up, then down at his hands. He sighed and sat back in his chair, abandoning the pen and pad just beyond his reach to get his first full look at the piercing set of eyes searching for answers beneath his steely exterior.
“I’m Kevin. You can call me Dr. Gaines if you want, if it feels more appropriate for you, but I’m just Kevin.” He drew a cross over his chest and pointed to the sky. “Hand to the man. We’re good.”
The pensive frown flattening Terry’s lips into a straight line curled into a small smile as Kevin lifted his right hand to the sky. He reached for another strawberry. “That easy?”
“That easy. You don’t gotta read me, man. Let’s talk. You and me for the next 45 minutes.”
Tension pinching his shoulder blades together loosened until Terry settled into a slump, weighed down by heavy mental and physical exhaustion. He looked up at the ceiling for comfort. “We won the Pee-wee Championship that year. Beat the shit out of the Seahawks. And I think that’s the first time my dad smiled at me that season. Damn near threw a party if my mama would’ve let him call enough people.”
Terry’s lips contorted into deep frown, contrasting he thin sheen shimmering over his pupils. He still remembered the way hot charcoal created grey, billowing smoke clouds in their backyard as his father detailed every catch his only son hauled in to save the team from a near-certain loss. Exaggerating. Marvin and his tall tales had commanded a small collection of willing listeners, nursing ice-cold beers around the grill, as he recounted a children’s football game as if it were the last seconds of the Super Bowl.
“He kept calling me James,” Terry said, finally meeting Dr. Gaines’s soft eyes. “We share a middle name. He was using my middle name — our middle name — because he was…proud of me.”
A charged silence sat between them for a moment. Introspection tickled Terry’s spine like sweat droplets under heavy football pads, touching the parts of his heart and mind he kept out of commission for good reason. Emotion strained his eyes, looking for permission to call a timeout and rest in the pain. He denied it.
“What’s that feel like for eight-year-old Terry?” Dr. Gaines asked.
“Euphoric,” Terry answered.
For the first time in their brief acquaintance, Kevin showed an emotion other than his professional neutrality. His eyebrows lifted, mirroring the slight twitch in his fingers before he remembered his promise to leave his pen at rest.
“That’s heavy,” he conceded. “Would you say you’re still chasing that feeling? That high?”
As quickly as he’d opened up, Terry let his eyes go blank. “Nah,” he said, his tone rough and defiant. “I’m grown now. I don’t need that anymore.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Time to move on.”
Dr. Gaines leaned forward, prepared to test the hinges of the emotional door Terry had bolted shut. “You don’t have to be good in here. It’s normal to want your dad’s approval, and the shit is messy. Trust me. But being honest about it helps us get to the important work.”
Terry considered unlocking his heart for a beat, chewing his bottom lip. But when the bowl turned up empty, so did his desire to offer more than required. He reached up to rub the top of his head and shrugged away his vulnerabilities.
“There’s nothing else to say. We’re past that now. What else do you wanna know, my account and routing number?”
“Nah, man. That’s yours to keep.” Kevin leaned back in his chair, a cheeky grin on his face to match Terry’s light laughter. “We can move on. I want to get back to what you said about your wife earlier. The strawberries. What’s your home life look like right now?”
Finally, something Terry could talk about for hours.
They discussed the Richmond household’s dynamics in great detail, from domestic labor to the mundane inner workings of their weeknight dinners. His favorite? Grocery store trips every Saturday morning, waving to their crew of regulars and arguing over brands of jelly for the hell of it — to giggle at their secret language and make every one jealous of their love.
“I don’t know how she does it, man,” Terry explained, pride lacing his smile. “But she knows where everything is and everybody by name! I mean we get in there and they damn near roll out a red carptet for us. Am I allowed to cuss in here?”
He recounted as much as he could until his jaw ached from talking and he throat ran dry. Pure joy took over his being and inspired enough animation in his body to catch Dr. Gaines off guard. He sat there with a faint smile, noting every inflection and excited gesture for a future conversation.
“I can’t help but notice the way you perked up when it was time to talk about your wife.” Kevin laughed once Terry rubbed the back of his neck and presented a sheepish grin. “That’s perfectly normal, Terry. Refreshing, even. Sounds like you have a great support system.”
Terry looked toward the wedding photo on Patrice’s desk and nodded. “I wouldn’t be here if not for her, if I’m honest. I owe her my best.”
“And yourself. Don’t forget yourself in all this. Be a little selfish.”
Terry paused. “Yeah,” he said, the word trailing into the silence like vapor. “Maybe we can talk about that next time. Or over the next couple of weeks. However this works.”
Kevin nodded slowly, making no move for his pen. “Oh, so you’re sticking with me!” he laughed, glancing at the digital clock in the corner of his screen. “I can dig that. How you feelin’?”
Pink and orange hues peeking through the linen curtains across the room reminded him of the world outside. Terry shrugged without looking at Dr. Gaines. “Not too bad. I could use some time outside to think, I guess.” He turned back to the doctor. “I guess Duke ain’t so bad.”
Kevin let out a surprised yelp of laughter, the sound distorted through Patrice’s laptop speakers. “You know what? I’ll take it. Same time next week for you and your snack? Seems like they help you out.”
“Same time next week.”
Even after the line went quiet and the screen cleared, Terry kept his gaze steady, wondering if he’d made the best decision of his life or signed himself up for another bill he’d regret. He didn’t stew in contemplation for long. Instead, he pushed back from the desk, collected his dish, and set off on his favorite mission.
Patrice stood at the kitchen counter, humming to herself as she arranged flowers in her favorite vase. He paused in the living room for a moment, watching sunrays highlight the flecks of honey in her brown eyes. Her round belly sat low, promising a new arrival in only a few weeks. Cookie crumbs she hastily swiped away to hide evidence of her snacking detour still clung to parts of her dress she couldn’t see. No matter, though. Still the prettiest girl he’d ever encountered.
Terry slowly crossed the room, intent on wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. His hands found the bottom of her baby bump to carry her burden. Patrice sighed and leaned against him with her eyes closed.
“How’d it go, Pooh Bear?” she whispered, the question gentle, lacking any pressure for a full report.
He pressed a kiss to her cheek, then to the juncture of her neck and shoulder, lingering to inhale the peach and musk on her skin. “Not too bad,” he said, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “He’s a Duke fan.”
“Ew,” Patrice giggled. “And you stuck around? He must be great.”
“I think so. I’m gonna stick it out and see. For you and Ny.” He glanced at the empty porcelain bowl stained red from strawberry juice and let the words echoing in his mind bubble to the surface.
