After leaving Julian in the emergency room with Christian, I do Julian the favor of picking up Grace from his parents and dropping her off at Isabelle’s studio. Picking up Grace is never a hassle; it’s always fun. That little girl—my niece—is like a rainbow and a chaos of glitter. Because of her, I keep essentials safe in my car—a stuffed animal, kiddie snacks, and a backup carseat. I think we all have these things somewhere in our cars for emergencies.
I walk Grace into Tip Toe Dance Studio with her tiny hand in mine, while the other kids file into the studio for their afternoon class. She’s dressed in her tutu and leotard with her hair in a small high bun. Isabelle waits outside for us and Grace lets go of my hand to run inside. I’m about to walk away when Grace comes back outside and shouts, “Uncle RoRo!”
I turn around and find her running back to me. I squat down and she wraps her arms around my neck
“Thank you,” she says.
“Go dance your little heart out, Grace.” I kiss the top of her head.
The little ray of sunshine smiles. “Love you, Uncle RoRo.”
“Love you too, kid.”
Grace rushes back and takes Isabelle’s hand as they walkinto the studio. With Grace happy and safe with her Aunt Isa, I walk back toward my car and see a familiar car down the block.
Natalia steps out of her car, closing the door, and slowly turning toward the building she’s parked in front of. My mouth opens to call out to her, to see her face and to see if she smiles when she sees me the way I’m smiling now.
But she pushes open the door and I finally see a sign for the office above the crafts store. Doctor Sasha Boyd—her therapist.
I can’t help but feel overwhelming relief that she’s getting help.
Despite the madness of the day, I feel a tad more settled. I’ve known something was going on with Natalia for a while now. I’ve noticed it getting worse with how she closes herself off and is putting up walls with all of us again.
I only want her to be okay. Ineedher to be okay.
CHAPTER 23
Natalia
The last time I was here, I brought Binx with me. Dr. Sasha Boyd said it was okay because my cat brings me solace.
This perennial sadness weighs heavier than any weight I have ever carried. It knows no bounds.
Sasha Boyd, my therapist, has always been incredible. And truthfully, I feel ashamed that I haven’t been to see her in so long. But now, as I sit on the small couch in her office, I feel like I can relax. It feels like a safe space where I could come to sleep and know that I’m safe from the nightmares and monsters under the bed.
“How are you, Natalia?” she asks first.
I pull one of her weighted pillows onto my lap and gently scratch my nails over the fluffy fabric. “Good, I think.”
“You haven’t been here in a while,” she says. “How are you really?”
I can only give her a sluggish shrug.
“Major depression, Natalia,” she says, “is hard.”
I scoff and murmur, “I know.”
“When was the last time you self-harmed?” Dr. Boyd asks gently, her voice soft and reassuring—reminding me this is a safe space.
“I think…almost two years ago,” I admit quietly and draw circles with my thumb over the thin, pale scars on my wrist. “Two years.”
“That’s really good, Natalia,” she says, and all I can do is nod.
I can’t seem to agree nor disagree. Just nod.
“Have you thought about cutting yourself again? In the past few months?”
A frown pulls heavy at my lips and I nod again.
