Her face took on a sympathetic look and she gestured to her couch. After I sat down and Bernadette settled herself on the floor, Sana poured us each a glass of cold-pressed juice and joined me on the couch. “I’m guessing you mean your ex-boyfriend’s murder?”
I flinched. “Yeah. Detective Park kept it out of the papers, but I almost died. Adeena, too. How do I just move on from that? How do I just pretend that everything’s the same as before? The killer held Adeena hostage and she’s still kicking butt and taking names. Why am I the only one who can’t move on?”
Months and months of frustration and guilt and shame just poured out of me, a catharsis I hadn’t realized I’d needed. Sana and Bernadette just sat there and listened, not butting in, not offering their opinion, and from what I could tell, not judging me. Was this what it was like to talk to a therapist?
As if reading my mind, Sana said, “Why haven’t you seen a therapist about this? It seems like Detective Park has done a lot of research to find someone willing to help you. Is it the cost? I know it’s not cheap.”
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand. Asians do not go to therapy. We don’t even acknowledge that mental health issues exist. It’s considered a sign of weakness, that we couldn’t work things out for ourselves. And a sign of shame, that we even needed help in the first place. Tita Rosie is the kindest, most loving person I’ve ever met and even she believes in not airing your dirty laundry for other people to see. She’s very much an ‘It’s in God’s hands’ type person. Bahala na, you know? And my grandmother?” I laughed. “She’ll just tell me I’m lazy like my mother. To keep my mouth shut and get to work.”
Sana frowned. “Why do you act like this is specifically a race thing? As if this society doesn’t push this mental health stigma on everyone? You think Black families love having relatives who are in therapy? That hasn’t stopped me.”
“You’re in therapy?” I blurted out, then clapped my hand over my mouth like a kid. “That was so rude and invasive, I’m sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“To be fair, I asked you first. I’m not ashamed of it. Therapy was the best decision I’ve ever made, and it sounds like you could benefit from it as well.” She took a deep breath and eyed me and Bernadette warily. “You know about my past.”
It wasn’t a question.
“It, uh, might have come up at one point, even before that article.”
“And you also know that Rob was trying to blackmail me into sleeping with him. So that nobody else would find out.”
“Punyeta!” Juice sloshed out of Bernadette’s glass as that curse burst out of her. If Rob Thompson wasn’t already dead, I would’ve been worried about what’d happen to him if Bernadette got her hands on him.
I knew he was shady AF but had no idea he’d stoop that low. I wasn’t happy he was dead, but let’s just say my lack of sympathy over his death was growing by the minute. “I didn’t realize that’s what he wanted in return from you. How did he even know about it?”
She grimaced. “I told him. I thought he was my friend. Like I mentioned with Valerie, I work hard to keep my coach-client relationships professional. It’s extremely difficult to separate the lines between coach, therapist, and friend, and I wanted to have clear boundaries from the beginning. But that meant cutting out a lot of possible friendships. I didn’t know anyone when I first moved here and didn’t have to worry about that separation with Rob. When he wasn’t busy being led around by what was in his pants, he was a funny, charming, and intelligent person.”
I swirled the juice in my glass. “Did you have feelings for him?”
“Not romantic ones. Rob and Beth’s relationship wasn’t healthy, but not because it was an open relationship. True polyamory involves openness and communication. It’s not meant to be manipulative. I’ve been through enough that I wasn’t about to let myself become a pawn in a rich man’s game. He entertained me, but he didn’t manage to charm me. Thank God,” she added under her breath.
I must’ve looked like one of those shoving-popcorn-in-mouth GIFs as I leaned forward, eager to learn more about this sordid tale. “So, what happened when he blackmailed you?”
Sana laughed. “What do you think happened? Friendship over. On my side, from the betrayal. On his part because the Thompsons are used to getting what they want. I mean, he still played the flirt when he was in public. Whether to save face or because he thought I’d change my mind, I don’t know. But he was mad that his threats held no weight. My past isn’t a secret so he couldn’t use it against me.”
“It’s not? No offense, but I got arrested for something I didn’t even do back in Chicago and I still tried to hide it from everyone. With the way those women acted at the studio, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to keep it a secret. Your past is . . .”
She straightened her back. “A horrible experience that I don’t expect forgiveness for. But it’d be shameful if I tried to pretend that it never happened. That man had people who loved him, I can’t just pretend he never existed. I’ve learned from it and strive to do better every day, but it’s something I’ll be atoning for my whole life. It’s what led me to my current profession.”
“Coaching and fitness?” I could understand her going into counseling or nonprofit work but didn’t really see the connection here.
“It’s important to take care of the body and the mind. To nurture and build self-confidence. Which is something I learned through intense therapy and, oddly, the weekly volunteer-led yoga sessions in prison.” She stared into her cup, as if trying to divine her life’s meaning the way Elena read tea leaves. “A man lost his life because of me. Unintentionally, but he’s gone all the same. That knowledge almost broke me, but to hide it would dishonor his memory and all the work I’ve done to make things better. I would never have let myself be blackmailed over this. And I would never want blood on my hands again. I don’t miss Rob, but I didn’t kill him.”
“I know.”
I hadn’t meant to say it, but once I did, I knew it was true. Maybe it was Elena’s influence since she talked about intuition all the time, but I felt the truth in Sana’s words.
“To get back to my point, I have an idea of what you’re going through. I had massive panic attacks when I first got to jail. Not because of where I was but because of the knowledge of what I’d done. They finally had to send me to the prison counselor, who was not great but did a good enough job to convince me I needed help. My lawyer was able to find me a great therapist who I still see to this day.” Sana put her hand on my arm. “It doesn’t go away completely, Lila. This is just something we both have to live with. But it helps. You don’t need your family’s approval to seek help, you know. In fact, I’d say they lie at the root of your more harmful coping mechanisms.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitated. “You said your grandmother considers you lazy like your mother. And I’ve seen the way you react when Bernadette brings her up.”