Dr. Quentin Long
Shareese 8:11 a.m.: How are you doing a no-call, no-show at your own practice? What do you want me to do with your clients?
Shareese 8:47 a.m.: Well, I just rescheduled your first client of the day and gave her the next session free. This is insane.
Shareese 9:05 a.m.: WTF, Q? You better not be trying to go off the grid nigga. I promise you, I will find you by the time it’s time to pay for college.
Shareese 9:23 a.m.: I’m about to send the cops for a wellness check. And if the FEDS are watching, I have an alibi.
Me: Sha, I overslept. If my 9 o’clock client is still there, cancel them too and give them the next session free as well. I’ll try to be there by 10. Appreciate you.
“Good morning,” I said to Shareese as I walked through the office doors and looked around at the waiting room, which had three patients. Being late wasn’t my thing, but I don’t knowhow the hell I managed to turn my alarm off and oversleep this morning.
“Morning, Dr. Long,” she said with a bright smile that I knew she only had plastered on her face because we weren’t there alone. Like she hadn’t just sent me the craziest messages this morning when she couldn’t reach me.
I walked into my office, flicked on the light, and took a deep breath with four minutes to prepare for the 10 o’clock session. After I woke up and realized what time it was, I was showered, dressed, and out of the house in less than twenty minutes. I had been busying myself with work these last couple of months, and for the first time, I started to feel it. Not only had I been working at my own practice, but one of my colleagues worked in crisis prevention, and I agreed to help him with his business until he found a permanent replacement for the doctor who had resigned.
Last night marked the beginning of my first week on call, and I underestimated the responsibility it would be. Somehow, I wound up being on the phone for two hours before the caller accepted my safety plan and agreed to a follow-up call tonight.
Although I was qualified, I had never handled a crisis. After last night though, he would need to find a replacement for me, too.
After putting my things down, I made my way over to the computer to check the schedule. Two 30-minute sessions came first, followed by Breeze and her husband at 11.
Going to their case file, I pulled their case notes and sent Shareese a message to send the couple waiting in the reception area back.
The first two sessions were smooth. The first was normal marriage counseling, no major issues, just a couple who prefer to have someone guide them. The second was a woman going through issues with her mother. I was thankful for the transitionfrom chaotic to smooth sailing. But I knew things would be shaking up the moment that Breeze walked through the door.
Eleven rolled in, making an hour feel like five minutes. The doorknob turned, and Breeze entered with her husband. She wore a purple pants set and black heels, looking like a fine ass grape.
I was silently amused at the thought as I shook both their hands and offered them a seat on the couch. She cuddled next to him, hand on his knee. They leaned into each other instead of away. All good signs.
I always began each note with how the couple appears, so I jotted it down before officially starting the session.
“Nice to see you all again, how has it been going?” I asked.
“Good,” Mr. Thompson answered.
“Fine.” Breeze followed up.
“Great, I gave you all homework over the course of the last week, and I told you that if you have any emotions or questions that you want to explore, let’s discuss them in this session. Before we get into our group assignment, were there any concerns?” I asked.
“Yep,” Mr. Thompson said. Admittedly, it made me break character and Breeze laugh. She shook her head because she knew this nigga was about to air her out again.
“Okay…” I waited for him to pull out his list again. It seems like every time we did one of these exercises, he found out something about her that he didn’t know.
“One of the exercises opened the discussion for the things that we didn’t explore in the twenty-four hours, that we would still like to do.” As soon as he said that, she shrank again. But he continued.
“Mine was a threesome, again, I know my wife is not attracted to women. She said she would still be willing to watch but didn’t want to be involved that way. That’s cool. So, then she tells methat she doesn’t feel like she’s explored all of her kinks. Like degradation and being watched. I’m trying to be open-minded about it, but that one feels like it might be out of my range. I ain’t gone hold you,” He chuckled.
She just slowly shook her head as he talked. I fought hard to hold my amusement this time.
“Understood. Mrs. Thompson, you care to elaborate for Mr. Thompson?” I pushed.
“Ummm, he says it’s disrespectful. But I think he’s confused about what I mean. I’m not asking him to slap me and stomp me out. Just sprinkle a little profanity every now and again in the place of ‘beautiful’ or ‘baby’. That’s all.”
“Do you receive that?” I asked him.
“Yeah, but I still don’t think I could do it.” He admitted.
