hasn’t returned from her doctor’s appointment yet.”
She never mentioned any appointment. “Is Candace sick?” I ask.
Miss Lamb’s eyes open with the realization that she spoke out of turn. She nudges me back toward the door. “It’s probably best that you wait at home and come back in thirty minutes,” she says. “A lady doesn’t like to be caught off guard by her suitor, Efrain.”
What else can I do but step? When I get home, I reach out to Chingy, but his mother says he’s playing hoops at St. Mary’s. So I trip for the next half hour. Why would Candace keep something like that from me? Does she have an illness or disability that I can’t see? Is this why Candace said that sometimes she gets sick of people being nice to her?
I freshen up and arrive at her building on the hour. Instead of buzzing me in so I can head upstairs, Candace comes down to meet me. On sight we both know what’s up. She knows I know about her aunt’s slip of the tongue, I know she knows, she knows I know she knows. Just one nerve-racking metaphysical mess of a moment, man.
I say, “Ready to go?”
Pretending to fuss with her jacket to break eye contact, she just mumbles, “Yeah.”
“Still wanna go downtown?”
“Uh-huh.” Usually when Candace and I hang out, I take her hand or she links her arm through mine. It happens naturally. But today when we walk toward the subway, a yard of tension hangs between us. “Hey, how was your class?”
I tell her, trying to muster the same enthusiasm I had when I left the campus. I fake it long enough for the 6 train to come. Once we find seats on the subway, I finally ask, “How’s your day been so far?”
Candace takes a deep breath. Then she smiles. “Your ears must’ve been ringing, because I was talking about you.”
Her answer surprises me. “To who?”
“My group.”
Here it comes. “I didn’t know you were part of a group.”
“It’s not something I tell just anyone. The few people outside my family who know either had to know or …” Candace finally looks me in the eye. “… I decided to trust them.” Like I told Chingy, I’m trying to know this girl. I mean,
know her
, know her. So I take her hand, and Candace squeezes it as if to transfer the truth without words. PE to KE. “It’s a support group for kids like me, you know, teenagers who survived Katrina. And Rita, too. Anyway, the doctor my bigmouth aunt told you about?” I laugh as she rolls her eyes, and the tension between us bends. “She runs the group. I meet with her one-on-one every Wednesday after school, and on Saturday mornings, we have group …” She hesitates to finish her sentence, and I squeeze her hand. “… therapy.”
Candace waits for me to say something. My girlfriend is in therapy. She sees a psychologist, psychiatrist, or whatever. Her problems are serious enough that the doctor needs to meet with her alone in private. I remember the rumor about why Candace transferred from Mott Haven to AC. I just shrug and say, “It’s all good.” What a stupid thing to say, E.! “I mean, not the reason why you have to go, obviously! Just the fact that you
do
go.” Man, I’m making a lot of assumptions. I ask, “Do you feel like it helps you?”
Candace nods. “My doctor says that she wishes I would talk more during group, but it helps me a lot to just listen. To know that I’m not alone. But today I talked a little.” And the way she looks at me says that even though I’m not a part of the group, I’m part of the therapy.
“Can I ask you something?”
Candace sighs with relief. “Please!”
“You promise you won’t get mad?”
“No, but ask me anyway.”
“It’s something I heard, and I just want to know what’s true.” I throw my hands up ready to block blows. “It’s not like I already believe it or anything like that.”
“Will you ask me already? And will you please put your hands down, Efrain? Everyone’s staring at us like a bad reality show
She never mentioned any appointment. “Is Candace sick?” I ask.
Miss Lamb’s eyes open with the realization that she spoke out of turn. She nudges me back toward the door. “It’s probably best that you wait at home and come back in thirty minutes,” she says. “A lady doesn’t like to be caught off guard by her suitor, Efrain.”
What else can I do but step? When I get home, I reach out to Chingy, but his mother says he’s playing hoops at St. Mary’s. So I trip for the next half hour. Why would Candace keep something like that from me? Does she have an illness or disability that I can’t see? Is this why Candace said that sometimes she gets sick of people being nice to her?
I freshen up and arrive at her building on the hour. Instead of buzzing me in so I can head upstairs, Candace comes down to meet me. On sight we both know what’s up. She knows I know about her aunt’s slip of the tongue, I know she knows, she knows I know she knows. Just one nerve-racking metaphysical mess of a moment, man.
I say, “Ready to go?”
Pretending to fuss with her jacket to break eye contact, she just mumbles, “Yeah.”
“Still wanna go downtown?”
“Uh-huh.” Usually when Candace and I hang out, I take her hand or she links her arm through mine. It happens naturally. But today when we walk toward the subway, a yard of tension hangs between us. “Hey, how was your class?”
I tell her, trying to muster the same enthusiasm I had when I left the campus. I fake it long enough for the 6 train to come. Once we find seats on the subway, I finally ask, “How’s your day been so far?”
Candace takes a deep breath. Then she smiles. “Your ears must’ve been ringing, because I was talking about you.”
Her answer surprises me. “To who?”
“My group.”
Here it comes. “I didn’t know you were part of a group.”
“It’s not something I tell just anyone. The few people outside my family who know either had to know or …” Candace finally looks me in the eye. “… I decided to trust them.” Like I told Chingy, I’m trying to know this girl. I mean,
know her
, know her. So I take her hand, and Candace squeezes it as if to transfer the truth without words. PE to KE. “It’s a support group for kids like me, you know, teenagers who survived Katrina. And Rita, too. Anyway, the doctor my bigmouth aunt told you about?” I laugh as she rolls her eyes, and the tension between us bends. “She runs the group. I meet with her one-on-one every Wednesday after school, and on Saturday mornings, we have group …” She hesitates to finish her sentence, and I squeeze her hand. “… therapy.”
Candace waits for me to say something. My girlfriend is in therapy. She sees a psychologist, psychiatrist, or whatever. Her problems are serious enough that the doctor needs to meet with her alone in private. I remember the rumor about why Candace transferred from Mott Haven to AC. I just shrug and say, “It’s all good.” What a stupid thing to say, E.! “I mean, not the reason why you have to go, obviously! Just the fact that you
do
go.” Man, I’m making a lot of assumptions. I ask, “Do you feel like it helps you?”
Candace nods. “My doctor says that she wishes I would talk more during group, but it helps me a lot to just listen. To know that I’m not alone. But today I talked a little.” And the way she looks at me says that even though I’m not a part of the group, I’m part of the therapy.
“Can I ask you something?”
Candace sighs with relief. “Please!”
“You promise you won’t get mad?”
“No, but ask me anyway.”
“It’s something I heard, and I just want to know what’s true.” I throw my hands up ready to block blows. “It’s not like I already believe it or anything like that.”
“Will you ask me already? And will you please put your hands down, Efrain? Everyone’s staring at us like a bad reality show
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