Page 17 of Butterfly 6, Phase 1

“She’s sick because of me. I gave her this shit,” Messiah stated.

“I’m very sorry about Yara’s diagnosis. Blaming yourself feels destructive. Self-punishing. Why do you feel the need to take ownership over this bad thing that’s happening?” Khadeen asked. “I don’t know if it’s arrogant or silly.”

Messiah was stoic as he stared ahead at the cross. “It’s true. She got it from me,” Messiah said. “It’s my DNA.”

“And who did you get it from?” Khadeen asked.

He looked over at her suddenly, a bit thrown by the question.

“What that got to do with anything? Shit don’t matter,” Messiah replied.

“You’re right. The origin of that disease doesn’t matter much. It’s nobody’s fault.” Khadeen’s point landed. Messiah nodded and leaned forward on his elbows, face bawling in emotion, but he corrected the vulnerability before he lost control. He cleared his throat. “You can’t control science. This is not your fault. The only thing that matters is how you show up for your daughter while she fights this.”

“The shit is about to hurt her, man,” Messiah whispered.

“I’m so sorry this is what your family is facing,” Khadeen said. “How is Morgan?”

Messiah was surprised that Khadeen cared to ask after Morgan’s stunt at the opening.

“Shorty’s devastated,” Messiah revealed.

“I don’t have kids, so I can’t imagine, but my heart goes out to you both. This isn’t a mental pain. It’s emotional. The only way through it is to feel it as you fight for your baby,” Khadeen replied. “There will be a lot of big emotions. I’m a phone call away if you need help processing.”

Messiah nodded. “I appreciate it, KD. A nigga just want to keep you here all the time. The only time my head on straight is when you’re here. It took everything in me not to call you when I found this shit out. I don’t know what you doing to me in these sessions, Doc, but I need you.”

Khadeen froze. She stopped blinking, stopped breathing. “Messiah, it’s important for me to remain professional. My career is something I’ve worked extremely hard for. I don’t want to disappoint you or ever put you in a position where you feel unsupported in therapy, but I can’t be with you all the time. I need you to respect my boundaries and to try to work through your processes when I’m not around. The goal is to stop needing me one day.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Who set that goal for me, cuz that ain’t the goal at all.”

“Messiah,” she said warningly. She squirmed beneath his gaze, and he sensed her discomfort.

“My fault,” he apologized. “Making you uncomfortable ain’t never my intention, Doc.”

“I didn’t say that,” Khadeen said. “I just don’t want either of us to get too comfortable. Lines can blur very easily when you’re tapped into the mind of another person. You feel safe with me, and I take that seriously. To continue to strengthen that safety, boundaries are important.”

“People put up fences to keep things they fear out. You scared of me?” Messiah asked, glancing in her direction. Their eyes met, and Khadeen faltered a bit, unsure how to answer him.

“Not of you,” she corrected. “But therapy only works in a controlled environment, Messiah. It’s not about fear. It’s about safety,” Khadeen said. “I let you get away with a lot that I would never allow with another client. It’s starting to feel precarious.”

“That’s a nice way to say you scared of a nigga,” Messiah shot back. “You think I’m dangerous.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re destructive to yourself, so isn’t it reasonable for me to think you could be destructive to me?”

“Over you and to you are two different things, Doc, but you got it. I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” He stood slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, his stress evident. She had given him one more heavy thing to think about. Khadeen rushed to her feet. Even in the dark, she could read his body language. He was offended, and dare she say, hurt.

“Messiah…”

“Thanks for the prayer,” he said, voice clipped, mood sour.

“Messiah, please don’t storm out of here and shut down this open dialog.” Khadeen didn’t yell, she didn’t escalate the situation by inflating her own emotions. She didn’t mirror his reactions. “I don’t want to engage with you like that. Stonewalling, mood shifts, it’s all disrespectful, and I don’t want that for us. Respectful conversations don’t contain abrupt exits.”

“You gon’ run a nigga in circles,” he said, confused, and scratching the back of his head in frustration. “I can’t play guessing games right now. What do you want me to do, KD? However you want me to be, that’s what I’m gon’ be to make you comfortable. Because these sessions the only thing that make shit make sense for me lately.”

“Right now, I want you to calm down…”

“I’m calm,” Messiah bit back. He was the exact opposite. She could see his overwhelm bubbling like a pot left unattended over a fire.

“Just because you’re not yelling doesn’t mean you’re calm,” she answered.