Communication

Hellie

It feels like a date, especially since there’s too many "what ifs" involved.

What if I run into Brent?

What if I meet his girlfriend?

What if I don't like his girlfriend?

What if he asks me why I'm here?

Which he certainly will. He can't handle when anything's left unanswered.

I play incognito behind a small potted tree in the MLK's open foyer while waiting for Barbara Ann. People are slowly trickling in and clotting together while I linger like a lone blood cell near the plant life.

We're all here for the Communication is Key meetup, and I'm waiting for Brent to wander in any moment. And then he does.

"What's wrong with this plant? Why are you nursing it?" he asks after darting straight towards me like a homing device.

"I'm not nursing it," I say, attempting to inconspicuously remove my hand, which has been holding its small trunk for dear life.

"Oh, okay. Why are you here?"

"A friend invited me," I say. Brent draws his head around in an unintentionally comical circle, indicating there’s absolutely no friend within miles of me. "Wait, there she is," I say, spotting Barbara Ann and her plant basket.

She scurries over when she sees me, simultaneously grabbing my hand and nodding at Brent and drags me over to the double doors that lead to the room where we'll learn how key communication is.

"Sorry, didn't mean to be rude. Just want you to meet Alice before the meeting begins."

"Who's Alice?" I say as she hands me the plant basket to fix her blouse, this time lightly polka-dotted. It's as bad as the stripes, but in a completely different way.

"My mentor."

I follow her over to the donut table, the one my brother must know very well, to find a small, older lady with dark gray curls pinned to her hair. When she turns around, I see she's wearing a t-shirt with The Clash plastered on it and black jeans with holes in the knees. It's like processing a walking dichotomy.

"Hey, Barbara Ann," she says. Her voice is smooth and settling, like one of those meditation channels on YouTube I watch on repeat.

"Alice!" Barbara Ann hugs her hard and then turns to me. "This is my friend, Hellie."

"Hello," I say and Alice warmly takes my hand as I juggle the basket. She looks at me, all of me, and even though I want it to be disconcerting, it's not. It feels right.

Barbara Ann relieves me of the plant basket, giving it to Alice.

"These are so great, thank you! I'm finishing up here, and we'll get started soon. Go grab yourselves a couple of chairs. So nice to meet you, Hellie."

What happens once the meeting begins is a slew of events that feel downright unearthly.

We (myself included) introduce ourselves (something I should have put on my "what if" list).

My brother keeps looking at me like I've sprouted seven heads.

Barbara Ann shares her church hurt, something Alice gently nods through, and I feel a slight pang at the notion of having someone who understands your heart.

I awkwardly pass the baton when it's my turn to "communicate."

And at the end of it, Alice gives us homework. It's a packet to take home that we're to read, answering the questions as we feel led.

On the front page are the words "Do you want to be healed?"

And yes, for the millionth time, yes.