“Um… it’s kind of complicated,” she says finally.
“I don’t doubt that for a second. I’m game for complicated if you are.”
Naomi studies her again, and she waits as Naomi takes a few more deep breaths.
“So… my mom died last February. Then my dad came back. But I guess he didn’t really want me, so he dropped me off with Uncle Julian one day and never came back.”
Gotta hand it to her, Veronica’s poker face is pro-level. She gives nothing away but the same patient glow she’s had since the moment she stepped into the waiting room. “Whoa. That’s a lot to deal with at once. How are you handling it?”
Naomi shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”
“Well, that’s good then. I’d be pretty sad if all those things happened to me,” Veronica says leaning back on her hands. She studies Naomi for a few seconds. “I bet you miss your mom sometimes.”
Naomi shrugs again, but I can tell by the tension in her shoulders that she’s acting. “I guess.”
“What was she like?”
Naomi shrinks more and wraps her arms around her knees. “Um. She liked to sing. All the time. It was kind of annoying.” I hear the dual eye-roll and smile I often get in her voice. “She was also really pretty. Everyone said so. Blonde like me.”
Veronica nods, her gaze flickering to Naomi’s very not-blond head. “I see you have a new hair color now. Why’d you choose this one?”
Naomi reaches up and touches her hair, tugging on the ends before offering yet another shrug. “I like black.”
“What do you like about it?”
“It’s nothing and everything.”
“I’ve never heard it described like that. What do you mean?”
She quiets for a moment. I watch her fingers tangle in the ends of her hair and pull at it… just like I do when I’m upset. Huh.
“It’s because… I don’t know… I guess it’s like, nothing, on one hand. People see it as a neutral color, you know? Kind of blank and boring like white.” Her voice is small again. I see her shoulders fold in on themselves when she continues hesitantly. “But black isn’t nothing. It’s the opposite. It’s all the colors combined.” She rests her head on her knees. “Wouldn’t you want to have all the colors at once if you could?” she whispers, almost pleading.
Oh god. That’s why she surrounds herself in black. She’s trying to fill a void with color—all the colors.
Veronica blinks at her, her poker face slipping briefly for the first time. My own fists have clenched on the armrests again. I swallow a lump in my throat. I had no idea. No fucking idea.
“Hmm. I totally get that,” Veronica says quietly. “Yeah, I guess I would want to wrap myself with all the colors if I could. When did you decide to start surrounding yourself?”
Naomi ducks her head. After a moment she mumbles something even Veronica can’t hear.
“What was that? I’m sorry, I wasn’t able to hear you.”
Naomi lifts her head slightly. “I guess after Mommy’s funeral.” Her voice quivers in the heavy silence. “They tell you to wear black to those, but I didn’t have anything. Mommy liked green and pink. I had lots of green and pink but nothing black.” Tears break into her voice, and she shakes her head, covering her face with her hands. “I was the only one,” she stutters in a broken voice.
“The only one who what?”
“Who wasn’t wearing black.”
My world breaks when she does. My heart. My soul, everything shatters on the floor next to Naomi and that beanbag chair.
I press the cuffs of my sleeves to my eyes, hot liquid soaking through the fabric as I pull in deep breaths to control my emotion. When her shoulders shake, I know she’s crying too, and I stop caring about the rules. Maybe I’m supposed to be invisible in this session, but that’s not an option right now.
“Naomi,” I say, my voice hoarse.
She jumps up with a choked cry and rushes over to me. I pull her into my arms and bury my face in her hair. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I didn’t know. I didn’t know,” I whisper so only she can hear.
I feel her nod against my shoulder and hold her tighter.
“You don’t need all the colors anymore,” I say softly. “I promise.”
I don’t think either of us are ready to go home after that rough, but cathartic session with the counselor. Maybe the two doors to her office make sense now. We entered as two people and left as someone entirely different.
Naomi has another session scheduled next week, and for the first time I have hope that with Veronica’s help, she’s going to be okay. We have a long way to go, but today was a massive step forward.
“You want to get ice cream, Uncle J?” she asks as we buckle into the car. Her voice is still shaky, her eyes still puffy and red from crying.
“Heck yeah. Anywhere in particular you want to go?”
“Anywhere but Cathy’s,” she mumbles.
I second that.
I take her to another shop I’d heard about where you can get all kinds of strange and gross-sounding concoctions. Seems like just the type of thing she’d like. Sure enough, she orders a lemon-meringue pancake sundae, whatever that is, and I get a small bowl of soft-serve chocolate.
“You’re so boring, Uncle J,” she says as we slide into opposite booths at a table.
I study her weird pile of goop, feeling very comfortable with my choice. “Let me know how that is,” I say, waving my hand in front of her bowl. She rolls her eyes, and I dig into my ice cream with a smirk.
We’ve gotten about halfway through our dessert when my phone rings. Weird. Who calls anymore? I’m even more concerned when I see it’s Viv.
“Hey, Viv. Everything okay?” I ask.
“Hey, Julian! Everything’s great. I’m actually calling for Naomi. Is she around?”
Surprised, I stare at my oblivious niece, who looks up when she senses my attention on her.
What? she mouths, her eyes narrowing at me.
I look around the restaurant, but we’re the only ones here except the employees behind the counter.
“Yeah, she’s right here,” I say. “Hang on. I’ll put you on speaker. It’s for you,” I say to Naomi. She looks startled as she lowers her spoon. “It’s Viv,” I add, glad we’re in public to spare my ears the inevitable shriek that would have come in a more private setting. Instead it’s a silent scream followed by a mouthed O.M.G.
I shrug and jiggle the phone, encouraging her to take it.
“Um, hi. It’s Naomi,” she says finally, her voice trembling.
I shake my head with a smile.
“Hey, Naomi! It’s Viv. It’s so good to talk to you again. How are you?”
“Uh, okay—good, I mean… I’m good.”
“That’s great to hear. Listen, the reason I’m calling is I had a thought today. Your uncle said you’re becoming quite the musician. Even writing your own songs?”
Her gaze snaps to me, and I shrug with a grin. She chews on her lip and stares back at the phone. “Yeah. Kind of. I mean, I want to be. I’m learning guitar now and I want to sing too and maybe learn drums. I want to do what you guys do one day.”