"It takes great effort but finally my eyes blink. I can survey my surroundings and I know I am home. "Brenda," I say. And then the dam breaks again. "Oh, my god, Brenda. I want to die!" Through my ravaged tears I cry in pain. "I need to hide. I want to die!"
I see Brenda pick up the phone. "I will call the doctor, Marsha."
I plead with my friend, "No, Brenda, don't! Don't please! I don't want to see anyone!"
She replaces the phone and says, "I've made you some green tea, Marsha."
She is speaking to me the way one would speak to an injured child or an elderly invalid. She cajoles me in a mother-like way. "Come on now, sit up and let me pour you some tea."
I respond to her motherly warmth. I struggle to sit up. I feel totally disoriented but Brenda persists in her gentle manner and places the warm cup in my hand. Finally, sipping the warm tea, my body relaxes a little and my torrential tears are replaced by soft tears that fall freely down my face and drip, unchecked, from my chin.
"There's a good girl," Brenda soothes. "There's nothing like a good cry and a good cup of tea to make a woman feel better." She hands me some tissues and asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
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