Hope is the answer.
I OPEN THE big, brown door as I go into the small conference room. It's small with a little chair--one of the soft, cushion ones--not those cold metal ones like the ones in gym class or in therapy group meetings that we have every Tuesday. A thin dark woman is sitting in the chair. She looks to be about twenty.
She slowly stands up with a stretched-out hand as a professional smile gleam across her lips to greet me in a meaningful way. "Hi, thank you for being here. I will be your therapist, Tasha Williams," she stated with a soft, diligent voice that sounds as if an angle is in the room standing before me.
I whisper to Cassy who's sitting right beside me as the lady sits back down in her seat pulling her pencil skirt down, "I really don't want to be here."
She leans in and whispers, "Why?"
"Are you girls okay? Do you want me to leave the room to discuss?" The therapist says getting ready to get out of her seat.
"No," Cassy says standing up, "I was actually going to work." She says to me in a monotoned voice, "Bye, Malauge."
She kisses my head and hugs me, I hug her back. As she walks out, she mouths "It's what's best for you, love you."
I mouth rolling my eyes, "Love you, too," as I sit observing the conference room; silent.