Will it ever stop raining? I wondered.
I was cold, oh so cold; the rain slowly seeping into the pores of my skin creating weariness from my quick fading high. There were only two options. The latter, not very pleasing, but if I was to take my recovery seriously, I had to go with the former. I crush the blunt and watch it as it disintegrated into the murky brown earth.
And then the thought hit me. Why shouldn’t I mix both options? Boy, would Dr. Ladipo be in for a treat. After all, he was the one who encouraged me to be as open as possible.
Dr. Ladipo sat in his plush office anticipating with curious dread what his newest case would bring forth today. Over the course of a week, his perceptions of life had changed almost overnight with the single appearance of this girl – Fareeda. After their first meeting, he had fixed her on a once-a-week schedule.
She had not attended their sessions for a month after that. She only sent him a journal every week, chronicling her life as an addict. She offered no opinions, preferring to tell the story as it was and keeping her tone as stoic as possible. Yet, he kept her space open, believing she would make another unannounced entrance just like she made her debut in his life.
At exactly, 12:00am she walked in unannounced, went to his tape recorder, threw it on the floor, plugged her phone into his speakers and waited till the appropriate song was playing.
Heaven or Las Vegas – The Weeknd
“I’ve always loved the title of this song even though the lyrics means shitsquat to me, because my life was exactly that. Oh and sorry about your recorders, I don’t want my sessions taped. I’d rather be your dirty little secret if it’s okay with you. Heaven or Las Vegas eh?
Before I became an addict, my life was steered towards two courses: becoming or marrying successful and making it to heaven. I wanted to be the nameless stranger who paraded the streets of Vegas fulfilling dreams and being heard about with the softest whisper and biggest smile.”
“Tell me about your parents, Fareeda.”
“I’m the one doing all the talking here, so keep your fake psychologist juju and let me finish. Today, I will show you just how hard it will be to handle me and after I’m done, you decide if you still want me as your filthy little patient.”
Dr. Ladipo could only look on.
“So my parents. They are nice people, good, but a bit too naïve despite the hue life existing right outside their walls. There was this fancy club pretty close to my house and every night, I would listen to the music pinning to get out. I couldn’t dance to it because then, I would be sent to do chores or scolded, anything to stop me dancing to the devil’s poisonous tune. I couldn’t fix weaves in my hair, braids, paint my nails, or use red lipstick. I was expected to be plain and do my possible best to almost repel male attention. So here’s what I did.”
And with that, I took my trousers off.
Dr. Ladipo panicked.
“What are you doing?”
“Relax, I’m not sexually assaulting you. Well, not on purpose anyway.” I said laughing.
I closed my eyes and for the briefest of moments, I wanted to zip my pants off and blot, but the meth was fueling my mischievous instincts and some sane part of me egged it on.
“I used to touch myself, Dr. Ladipo. I never even knew masturbation existed and had a word, but with my life, it was all I could do to stay hopeful.”
Dare Ladipo could only stare. Lord knows he tried not to; he tried. To get up, hand her trousers back and tell her to leave. That without the burden of her secret, his life would be better. That if word got out, his career would take a huge hit. Sexual assault suits flew round the face of his inner fears and he swallowed. At this point, she took her top off too, standing there in nothing but a worn out bra and panties that were too big.
“I used to sleep like this so no one found it odd that every night with alarming consistency, I got rid of my clothes and told my sisters that having the light on was affecting my eyes. They would turn it off and mind whatever petty business attracted them and I would lay, legs and hands under my sheets letting my hands wander and give me untold pleasures.”
With that, I lay down and proceeded to show him the literal interpretations of my words.
“It was glorious. I was the secret rebel. Without fail each night, the club DJ would get to a slow jams session and in that moment, my eyes would close and give my hands silent electric instructions which were translated into ecstasy in my nerve endings.”
I was going, my hands moving with the silent rhythm of my words.
She was touching herself and with every sentence, her voice broke a little bit more and behind the incoming pleasure, Dr. Ladipo could sense shameful tears. He coughed, but she seemed oblivious to him and anyone.
“I learnt how to please my body in ways no one would be able to accomplish for a long time. Even after I had tasted real sex, I would go back and rehash the painful sweetness that was my idyllic captivity. The meth only made it better, so much better. It was my slice of heaven in a world of hellish torture. I was drunk on myself.”
I heaved a silent sigh of relief, got up, put my clothes back on, disconnected my phone and sat.
Dr. Ladipo was silent for the next ten minutes. He remained silent for another ten. And with that, I walked out, tears forming fast in my eyes.
The bastard! He didn’t want me anymore. I was going to ruin his precious image. I wasn’t worth being saved. No one could save me. But I would come back. Come back and torture him till he budged and helped me. His voice stopped me at the doorway.
“See you next week Fareeda.”
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