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"Really, sis?'

"Yeah. Why you say it like that?" Page asks Vida while putting the second pan of macaroni and cheese in the stove.

"Because I'm just leery of those people. I mean, their lives are fucked up too. Yeah, they went to school but they don't know you. How are they somehow an expert on your life? Besides, you know black people don't be getting down like that. We handle our shit." Vida pauses. "But you know me girl. If you like it, I love it."

"Well, we've only had one session and I like her already. And really, it's not about her being an expert on my life. I like it better that she doesn't know me. Something about someone creating a space safe enough for you to just unload stuff you've been carrying around for a long time. And I got stuff."

"Yeah, we all got stuff. But that safe space is what your friends are for. You not safe with me? With your other friends? With your family? Or are we the problem? We the stuff you carrying around?" Vida has finished rolling a joint. As she finishes speaking she lights it and puts it to her lips.

"No it's not that. Not really. I just have a lot going on inside and I need a professional to talk to. I'm going crazy here. At least that's how I feel most days. I don't even have a fucking life. You know I love Rock but I can't even be out without worrying if I'm gone too long. Has he eaten? Did he fall trying to get to his wheelchair himself? Not to mention the days the fucking depression that cripples me and I can hardly move. You know my journey with this and the suicidal thoughts I can't control. I just need somebody to talk to before I do something I won't live to regret. Now pass me that joint." Page takes a puff and leans her head back as she inhales and slowly releases the smoke.

"I know. I get it. It's something you have to do for you. I just feel helpless. You know how I feel watching you cry and not be able to tell me what's wrong? How do you think I felt hearing you say you want to die? And now I feel even more helpless hearing you would rather pay a stranger to listen to what I've been begging you to say to me. It's a lot, P." Vida has shifted a few times in her seat. Crossing and uncrossing her legs. She gets a paper cup from the counter and goes to the soda fountain.

"Be on my side, Vida. I need you right now. I need to do this for me. It's not about you. The suicidal thoughts have gotten worse and it's hard talking to you about it because I know you love me. It would be hard for me to hear that coming from you. With this woman, I can just talk without thinking about how she feels. I don't think about her feelings at all. She doesn't love me. I'm a job to her. I don't have to take care of her. I just talk. Come on now, Vida?"

Vida has returned to her seat and is staring at her friend. "Girl, I'm sorry. I know it's not about me. I want you to feel safe and free and whole and all the other shit y'all be saying." They laugh.

"Also, I don't pay that much. They operate on a sliding scale and you know my situation." I love you, big head.

"Love you too."