Page 81 of Anything Necessary for Her (Crenshaw Kings #9)

WEEKS LATER . . .

“Low, can you explain to your mother how her drinking affects you?” The therapist, Dr. Antonia Jackson, intercepted my thoughts as I sat on the caramel-colored couch in her office.

She was a black woman about my mother’s same age, but she looked younger due to the absence of hard drinking, I was sure.

“She know already,” I replied, still trying to get used to this therapy shit.

This was only the second session, and last time, I just sat and listened to my mama say most of the same shit she’d told me during our heart to heart that one morning.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about therapy simply because I’d been this way for so fucking long. I never talked about how I felt about some shit until I met Banks, but even then, a nigga only felt safe enough to do so with her.

“Do you?” Dr. Jackson veered her attention to my mama.

“I know he doesn’t like it,” Whitney deduced, simplifying the hell out of everything.

“I think it’s a little more than that. Am I correct, Low?” Dr. Jackson pushed her glasses upward.

“Definitely.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“So, tell her if you can.”

I felt my mama shift to face me, but I couldn’t give her any eye contact just yet.

“You turn into a different person when you drink, and you say a lot of shit that I would—wouldn’t accept usually.

” I edited my words, not wanting to let Dr. Jackson in on the fact that I’d put a bullet in a nigga for bumping into me and not apologizing before.

“Before I used to accept it and press on, but now shit has changed. Now I’m getting to a point where I don’t want you around me or Wyatt and Waverley if you gon’ be abusive physically and verbally. ”

I finally looked my mama in the eyes, and she nodded, eyes misted over.

“Has something changed in your life that made you feel this way? Like you can no longer accept her behavior?”

I pondered for a minute, though I already knew the answer. Banks. Everything led back to her. She was injected into a nigga at this point. That was why I saw a lot of shit through a new lens. I felt like one of the blind men Jesus had blessed with vision.

“My fiancée.” I said two words I never thought I would. The doctor smiled at this confession. “She made me realize my worth, in a sense, and ever since then, I realize that a lot of shit Whitney does is unacceptable.”

Dr. Jackson bobbed her head as she wrote down some notes.

“How does that make you feel, Whitney? Knowing your son is at his wits’ end?”

“Terrible, but also good yet scary. I hate that I’ve taken it this far, but at the same time, I love seeing him realize he’s a person worthy of respect. Same time, I’m afraid I will relapse.”

At the moment, Whitney was in rehab, only coming out to attend these sessions and taking her ass right back. I’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to revert to her old ways, but it hadn’t happened yet.

“Well, if you think you will, you probably will. Think positively, Whitney. Low told me you have been doing a great job and staying dedicated to rehab. Stay until you feel like you can do it on your own, and eventually, you’ll be able to.”

“He said that?” Whitney looked my way.

“He did.”

“I also said if you keep it up, you can be at my wedding. Then more if you keep your shit together,” I said.

She smiled softly in response before Dr. Jackson’s voice pulled her attention from me.

The session was over half an hour later, and I couldn’t have been more thankful. I felt too exposed in that shit, and I could only hope I’d become more comfortable as we had more sessions. After my mama and I got better, we’d add Wyatt and Waverley, but for now, it was just us two.

“You remember when I said I stopped drinking because I was hoping to lure you guys’ fathers back in?” Whitney asked as we strolled toward my whip.

“I do.”

“I have a new goal now, and I think that’s why I’ve been doing so well.”

“I hope it ain’t no nigga.”

Chuckling subtly, she replied, “Depends what type of nigga.” She peered up at me, smirking.

“But no, my new goal is to not only be around my kids but to be there to witness you create your own family. Then to witness Wyatt’s and Waverley’s.

I wanna be at the wedding. I want to be a grandmother and all of that. ”

“I appreciate that, but you gotta want to do it for yourself too, Whitney.”

“I am. That’s what I want. I’m doing it for the three of you first, and then to be sure I’m a good grandma and mother-in-law second. You and your siblings deserve a great mother, and Banks deserves a great mother-in-law.

“I’m blessed to have such smart, talented children, and especially a son who hasn’t given up on me and will do anything to make me better.

” She intertwined her fingers with mine.

“I’m also blessed to gain a daughter-in-law like Banks.

You did good picking her. I always worried you’d bring home a pregnant hood rat. ”

That caught me off guard even more than the hand holding, so I chuckled.

“Never. I was planning to be a childless bachelor or the rich uncle.” I opened my passenger side door for her.

Grinning as she glided into the seat, she said, “No, that would be a huge waste of an amazing father.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, but for the first time in forever, Whitney’s words got to me but in a positive way.

‘GISELLE’ FEATURING BANKS ST. THOMAS . . .

The theater was packed at the moment, every seat filled including the ones up in the balcony.

There were too many of us here for Banks, and the balcony only seated five, so instead, we took up a whole two rows.

Wyatt, Waverley of course, and my mama had come along, all of us wanting to see Banks perform.

Cameras flashed from different areas of the venue as a cameraman moved up and down the aisles recording on his high-faluting ass equipment.

“This is the real deal, huh?” My mom leaned over to speak to me, and it was still surreal as fuck to be doing shit like this with her.

But true to her word, she’d stayed in rehab even past the time it felt like she should have been able to come home.

She was so present that she wouldn’t allow me to exclude her from Banks’s show and had read the play to be sure she understood everything.

It was crazy how she went from getting fucked up by my girl to being her biggest fan.

In due time, I was sure I’d be able to buy another home so she could keep the one we lived in currently and actually take over parenting Waverley and Wyatt. Not at this time, but surely before Banks and I got married.

The lights lowered after a while, and all you could hear were kids talking, being shushed by their parents—including Banks’s nieces and nephews—and people munching on the snacks and drinks provided at the concession stands.

Waverley bounced in her seat some while Wyatt tried to pay attention but kept stealing looks at Harmony Compton.

I tapped his shoulder, nodding for him to focus on the stage, because I’d just made amends with them niggas and wasn’t about to be back at odds because he couldn’t stop wagging his tongue at Khari’s baby girl. Even worse, she was looking back.

Wyatt fell in line, sinking into his seat and propping his elbow up on the armrest to focus on the stage.

The music began, and I assumed that once the dancing ensemble appeared, people would cheer, but everyone remained quiet.

I wasn’t used to this shit, so I would follow everyone else.

It took everything in me not to stand up and shout like a fanned-out ass nigga when Banks twirled out onto the stage, face still, long hair pinned up and looking just as graceful as she fucking wanted to be.

I was mesmerized, forgetting that I was surrounded by her brothers, nieces, nephews, parents, and my people as I got lost in her. When she had people she was dancing with, I focused on her, but my favorite part was her solo, of course.

“She’s amazing.” I felt my mother’s breath on my ear, and I nodded in response, not wanting to look away for even a second.

When the shit was over, I wasn’t ready. The ballet was a two-hour show, and we got a fifteen-minute intermission to use the bathroom or stock back up on snacks, but still, it felt short as fuck.

As the lights came back on, everyone stood while still clapping. Lisara and Prime were grinning like the proud parents they were, the latter clutching a big ass bouquet just like the rest of us.

We waited for a bit until Banks came out with a jacket on over her tutu and leotard, looking beautiful as fuck.

I waited in the background, allowing her people to congratulate her and hand her flowers and/or gifts. My chest warmed, noticing the way she looked for me over every shoulder of the person she hugged until, finally, her eyes caught mine, and she grinned.

“I know you ain’t think I wouldn’t come,” I said, making my way up to her now that her family had spread out some, speaking among one another.

“You know better.” She hugged my neck as my hands landed on her hips, kissing her lips.

She released me to hug Wyatt and then squeezed a screeching Waverley.

“You looked like a movie star up there!” Waverley said, making everyone in earshot laugh. “I wanna be just like you.” She stared up at my girl with stars in her eyes.

Banks kissed her forehead before landing her eyes on Whitney who, to my surprise was smiling at Waverley’s comments instead of turning green with envy like she usually would anytime her children liked anyone else.

“Whitney, thank you for coming.” Banks bobbed her head demurely.

“No hug for me? I’m gonna be your mother-in-law.” Whitney stepped up but with trepidation until Banks moved to embrace her.

I shook my head, in disbelief that this shit was even happening when just months ago, I had to break them up like a WWE referee.

“I didn’t get a chance to meet you before the show.” Lisara came over, her husband behind her. “Lisara, Banks’s mother.” She stuck her hand out to Whitney.