I pull out and head home, planning to shoot Truth a text and sleep for about twelve hours.
Rolling up in front of my place, I see a new Rover parked out front. Instead of parking in the garage, I pull up and park behind it.
When I get out, the driver’s side door opens, and I see Tara Steel step out. I immediately worry something happened to Truth in the last twenty minutes.
“Truth okay?”
She smiles and nods as she pushes her sunglasses on top of her head. “She’s heading to the doctor with her dad to see how she’s healing and hoping to get rid of the boot.”
I nod. “I bet she’ll be happy to lose that.”
She looks down and mumbles something to herself.
“Did you need something, Mrs. Steel?”
She nods and looks up. “I wanted to ask a favor of you, actually.”
“I’ll do my best to help you out.”
“Well, you see, I have some issues.” She shakes her head. “I see a therapist once a week.”
“Because of Tony?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. It was never something that I worried about. Not since Cyrus. But now—”
My chest burns. “Now that I’m—”
“No, not really.” She blows a breath and looks at me. “Do you think maybe you could attend a session with me?”
Never went to a fucking shrink, unless you count a court-appointed anger management class. But being asked to go to one with a woman who has some issues no doubt brought on by your own father, regardless that you didn’t know him until recently … If you’re falling for her daughter, the right thing would be to go, but I don’t fucking want to.
“Just an hour,” she says as if she heard my thoughts.
“Yeah, sure. I guess I could do that.”
Walking out of the therapist’s office an hour and a half, not an hour, later, I do so with appreciation that I didn’t have ten minutes into the “session.”
“Are you upset with me?” she asks as she pulls her keys out with a swiftness her daughter does not share. In Truth’s defense, she lugs around a bag, while Tara has a tiny purse with several compartments, and each seems to have a specific use.
“No, I’m not.”
“I just didn’t know how to explain it. I didn’t want you to think that I felt like I was blameless and maybe harbored resentment toward you, and it ruin something that could be beautiful for you and my daughter.” She looks up at me. “Your friend, Gabrielle, spoke kindly of you, and Truth was both blessed and cursed by her name. I’ve never seen her this way.”
She hands me her keys. “Do you mind driving?”
“Sure.” I take the keys to a vehicle worth more than I’ll make first year out of college and shake my head as I step toward the vehicle.
She clears her throat, and I look at her. “Mind getting my door?”
Jesus Christ, I scold myself.
“Yeah, sorry about that.”
Driving down the road, my palms are sweating, and I feel exactly like I did when I went to court the four times I have in my life.
When the phone rings, I glance over at her and see her smile as the dash lights up with CYRUS.
She answers it.
“How was your appointment?” he asks.
“Good. I’m not too far from home.”
“That’s good. Our little birdie gave the boot a boot, so we’re having a dance party tonight.”
“Oh no, we aren’t.” Truth laughs.
“Bullshit, you got no excuses anymore,” Cyrus snaps at her. “And as much as I like that chick’s dune buggy, I wanna see you kick her ass for the lead in the next show.”
“Maybe I don’t wanna dance anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” he huffs.
“No, maybe I wanna go to college at a real school.”
“Yeah, for what?”
“Not sure yet. I still have time. Haven’t looked into what programs Columbia has to offer,” she says, and I can’t help but smile.
“I’m not paying for you to go study boys, Truth.”
“Don’t plan on studying boys. I plan on studying a man.”
I can’t help but smile bigger now.
“You think so?” he huffs. “You think I’m paying sixty Gs a year for you to chase ass, you got another thing coming.”
“Um, Cyrus …” Tara tries to interrupt.
“You like him”—Truth giggles—“and it pisses you off.”
“You sure you want a boy who pisses his pants?”
“He doesn’t piss his pants.” She laughs like she’s got a secret, and I hope to fuck her dad doesn’t call her on it.
“Guys …” Tara again tries to interrupt.
“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You start dancing again, and if you hate it, we’ll discuss Columbia.”
“I’m not dancing right now, and we’re discussing it, so—”
“Not anymore.” Cyrus laughs. “Tara, dance party tonight.”
“No freaking way,” Truth groans.
“Dance party, and I might shave some time off you being grounded till you’re thirty.”
She doesn’t say a thing.
“See you at home, Birdie”—he chuckles—“for a dance party, right, Truth?”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she concedes.
“See you at home.” Tara laughs and ends the call as I roll to a stop light.
She giggles nervously as she looks at me and says, “Myself, Kiki’s mom, Carly, and Brisa’s mom, Bekah, all came from small families, so it was a lot to get used to.”
“I can see that.”
“And for me, after living in home after home since I was five, I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to it.”
During her session, I found out her parents had passed away in a car accident where she was the only survivor, causing her to have some issues that she still struggles with to this day. OCD, anxiety, fear of loss, all were brought up in her session. All led to her clinging to someone who had his own set of issues—mainly drugs—and accepting his abuse because she thought it was better than being alone, until she met Cyrus, who was controlling, as well, but in a very different way, a way that was freeing and made her feel safe.
I knew why she wanted me there, and it wasn’t just because she wanted me to be open to the idea of counseling so that I could lead a full life and someday be the man that Truth deserves. I’m sure she and her mother discussed my reservations and, although somewhat embarrassing, I was glad Truth had someone to talk to about it if she didn’t think she could talk to me. Honestly, I’ve given her every reason to believe that, because I’m just not there yet. But that hour and a half was her way of showing me a direction, and I appreciate it. I also appreciate that Tara truly wants me to accept the fact that she doesn’t hold any resentment toward me, which I know will take some time to accept.
“It’s sometimes intimidating, because they seem to have it all together, but they’re not without struggles. They just have such a strong belief that they can get through anything, and they’ve actually done so.”