Dr. Miller entered the reception area attached to her private office and extended her slender, almond-colored hand to her new patient. Her smile was warm, wide, and disarming. “You must be Briana. I’m Dr. Miller.”
Braina stood, matched the warmth of Dr. Miller’s smile with her own, and shook her hand firmly. “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Miller, and it’s Braina, not Briana.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing down at the paperwork attached to a clipboard. “It does say Braina; I thought that might have been a typo.”
“No worries, I get that all the time. I mean how many people have you ever met named Braina?”
“You’re the first,” she replied with a toothy grin.
“Please, this way,” Dr. Miller said as she led Braina into her elegantly furnished office. Soft waterfall sounds filled the air creating a soothing symphony of nature. Braina loved the sound of water, especially gently flowing water. It calmed her.
“Have a seat wherever you’d be most comfortable, Braina.”
“Nice recliner! My parents have one, well, several actually in their home.”
“Thank you.”
So, this is where my $175 an hour will be going. Nice digs, lady, Braina thought to herself. She knew the designer zero-gravity recliner in front of her cost at least $1,500. The white, soft leather beckoned to Braina, and that’s where she decided to make her home for the next 60 minutes.
“So, what brings you in today, Braina?” Dr. Miller asked as she sat in a powder blue swivel, accent chair across from Braina, not too close, but a comfortable distance.
“I completed the paperwork, all 20 pages. Did you not have a chance to review them?” Braina asked, her anxiety level rising.
“I did, but I’d like to hear you tell me. It’s more personal that way. Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to offer you a beverage. Would you like some coffee, tea, or sparkling water?”
“No, thank you. I’m good. I just had a big glass of raspberry sweet tea at Jenkins.”
“Ooh, I love that place. The food is amazing.”
“Agreed,” Braina said, feeling more relaxed. “Okay, where should I start?” She paused, getting her thoughts together, twiddling her chubby fingers, and twisting her marquis-shaped engagement ring. “I’m getting married in six months, and I’m having a lot, and I mean a lot of anxiety about the wedding!”
“In what ways?”
“Well, first of all, I don’t want an extravagant, highfalutin, country club wedding. That’s my parents’ dream, not mine. Ryan and I would be happy if we got married in the media room at the local library. We just want to formally and spiritually solidify our commitment to each other.
“Have you told your parents this?”
“Only 20 times. My parents don’t care what I want; they never have. It’s always been about what they want for me. My desires, my dreams, my passions don’t matter.
“Have you always felt this way?”
“One hundred percent. Would you like to hear the story behind my name?”
“Sure, if you want to tell me.”
“My father named me Braina because the word “brain” is at the name’s root. He idolizes the mind and the intellect. I can’t tell you how many times I heard the United Negro College Fund’s slogan, “A Mind is a Terrible Thing to Waste” when I was growing up.”
“Okay,” she replied gently.
“A mind is a terrible thing to waste, but it’s also a terrible thing to worship. And he truly worships it.”
“What about your mother?”
“If you don’t mind, Dr. Miller, I’d much rather stick with my father. I have a feeling we’ll be stuck on him for a while.”
Dr. Miller chuckled quietly and said, “That’s fine.”
“And I know this may sound terrible, but I really don’t want him walking me down any aisle as if we’ve had this ideal father-daughter relationship because we haven’t.”
“I’m not judging you, Braina. Please keep going,” Dr. Miller said as she maintained her gaze on Braina. Her folded hands rested comfortably on the floral notepad spread across her lap. Although she was a clinical professional, she seemed bathed in a maternal light.
“He always wanted me to be a doctor or research scientist or any profession that was considered highly intellectual. When I decided to become a teacher, he cried and became depressed for months. When I decided to become a teacher of special needs kids, he stopped talking to me pretty much altogether, with a few exceptions.”
“That must have been painful.”
“It was. And every time I’m around him, I feel this profound sense of disappointment exuding from his pores. My mother has come around and accepted my decision. She tolerates it, not celebrates it. But at least she’s trying.
My father, on the other hand, believes that what I’m doing is a waste. ‘A waste of intellectual power and prowess,’ he says. He doesn’t care that I’m happy and fulfilled, that I’ve found my life’s purpose in this kind of work. The only thing he cares about is how my decisions reflect on him.”
“Has he met Ryan?”
“Oh yeah. Ryan is like the son he never had and always wanted. He’s a successful CEO of a tech company, so he’s wealthy and well known around town. My father couldn’t be prouder of him. He’s spent more time with Ryan in the last few months than he ever spent with me in all my 29 years of life.”
“How does that make you feel, Braina?”
“Angry. Resentful. Betrayed. Unworthy. Ryan hates the way he treats me, but he’s hoping to be some sort of mediator between us, like a bridge connecting our two worlds.
“Ryan sounds pretty special.”
“He is. He’s exceptional, and has the most amazing, beautiful heart. He told me he fell in love with me at first sight. I guess it took me a little longer, but I was hooked when he fell in love with my special needs kids. My kids and I are a package deal. Other than God, I’ve never felt unconditional love until I met Ryan.”
“That’s a blessing, Braina,” she paused for a few seconds, taking in all Braina had shared. “Unfortunately, our time is up for today. But I believe you’re off to a great start. Let’s schedule your next session, shall we?”
“We shall.”
The End
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