Read Online Bed of Lies by Shelly Ellis - Free Book Online Page B

what’s it for?”
    â€œPsychotherapy.”
    When Terrence heard the word, he flinched. “You . . . you want me to see a shrink?”
    Dr. Sidda took a deep breath, set down the notepad, and linked his hands in front of him. “Dr. Sweeney comes highly recommended. She specializes in patients like yourself who may be—”
    â€œI don’t need a shrink. I’m not crazy!”
    â€œTerry, I don’t think you’re crazy. But I do think you may be dealing with mild depression as a result of your accident.”
    â€œI’m not depressed,” Terrence had argued with tightened lips. His heart had started to thud wildly in his chest. He had balled his fists at his sides. “I’m just pissed off! I’m blind in one eye and I can barely walk! I’m getting fucking sued! If anyone else was going through what I’ve been going through, they’d be fucking suicidal. But you don’t see me climbing up on a chair putting a rope around my neck!”
    â€œAnd this depression may be your biggest obstacle to making a full recovery,” Dr. Sidda had said, ignoring Terrence’s tirade. “The only help I can offer is of a physical nature, but perhaps you need something more than that . . . something deeper.” Dr. Sidda had held up his hand. “Please, just consider it.”
    I don’t need any goddamn therapist , Terrence now thought angrily as he reclined on his sofa and a Mediterranean-style house exploded on his television screen. Fireballs silhouetted the action-movie hero, who ran in slow motion.
    In all the years that Terrence had lived in the Murdoch household, witnessing his parents’ dysfunctional marriage and dealing with his father, who had all the warmth of an arctic iceberg, Terrence hadn’t gone to therapy. He had survived and thrived without sitting on any shrink’s couch complaining about his problems and his doubts about whether his father had really loved him or any of his other siblings. Terrence Murdoch wasn’t a whiner; he handled his shit privately and moved along to the next thing. Terrence saw no reason to see a therapist now. He wasn’t depressed; he just wanted to be left alone. Was that so hard for everyone to understand? Besides, black people didn’t do therapy.
    Suddenly, Terrence heard his doorbell ring. He lowered the remote and beer bottle to a nearby end table and glared at his front door.
    â€œWho the hell is that?” he mumbled aloud before shrugging and deciding to ignore it. He returned his attention to the movie. The doorbell rang again and Terrence started to grumble.
    He grabbed the stainless-steel cane that was propped up on the edge of the ottoman and slowly pushed himself to his feet. It was a slow process, crossing the distance of twenty feet between the living room sofa and his front door. He could have made the trek in less than sixty seconds in the old days. That wasn’t the case anymore. While he limped toward the front door, his left arm shook with the burden of carrying the weight of his body. The doorbell kept ringing. Hearing that singsong chime over and over again was infuriating.
    â€œI’m coming, goddamnit!” he yelled, breathing heavily.
    Finally he reached the front door and practically fell against the wooden slab. He peered through the peephole into the condominium’s hallway. When he saw who waited on the other side, he cursed again.
    It was his brother, Evan, wearing a long-sleeved polo shirt and khakis, looking concerned as he glanced down at his watch.
    I told him I didn’t want to see anyone today , Terrence thought angrily.
    Momentarily forgetting his fatigue, he quickly undid the deadbolt and bottom lock. He snatched the door open and glared at his older brother.
    Evan’s handsome face instantly brightened. “Hey, you’re alive! Paulette, Lee, and I were starting to wonder. You didn’t return my phone calls.”
    â€œI