“There was this boy I was observing in therapy during training, and he had a really troubled life. I don’t think I slept the entire week he went to sessions. I knew I couldn’t do it. Maybe I need more time to sort through all my shit first.”
I nod, silently relating to that.
“I still loved the concept, enough to want to invest in it. So Julia, the girl I was training with, and I opened Healing Pals. She’s the lead interventionist there.”
“It’s funny you share that, because I’ve thought about calling to see if my oldest would mesh with it. She hasn’t had the best track record with therapy, and I know she needs it.”
“We all do.” He agrees easily with me.
“I know, and she’s doing great, considering. One of my friends was her school counselor when Nick died, and she helped her through so much, but she hasn’t found that person again.”
“Give it a try. There’s so much good there, and there’s more than the therapy with the animals. Now, we offer art therapy, group sessions, and we’re branching into play therapy soon too. I’m happy to give your contact to our scheduler.”
“Let me talk to her first. She’s a little?—”
“Teenager-like?”
“I was going to say headstrong, but yeah, it definitely has gotten more apparent in the past few years. I can’t complain, though. She’s seriously the best.”
The smile on my face returns. The one that only comes when I talk about them. They’re my biggest joy. My pride and my whole heart in two bodies. The best parts of him and me. In them, Nick lives forever, and I’m never going to take that for granted. It’s part of the reason Vero’s middle name is Joy.
Veronica means the one who brings victory, and I wanted to remember every day how, after fighting for so long, wishing foreven longer, we finally got her. Our biggest victory and joy, both in one.
“I bet she’s as beautiful and as kind as you, so I can see it.”
And there he goes again, letting the compliment ease off his tongue like it's nothing. I can taste the sincerity behind his words, like honey and melted butter smooth over sourdough bread, and it catches me off guard. Again.
Heat creeps up my cheeks, but I force myself to say something and not make it awkward. “She’s kinder and more beautiful, trust me.”
“Hard to believe,” he quips.
“She actually looks nothing like me. Not even the hair. The ginger gene didn’t pass to her like it did to Vero.”
“Are your parents redheads?"
I shake my head. “Ha, no. Nobody knows where it came from. Trust me, it was really funny explaining to people I was a white, redhead Latina all my childhood when I had my maiden name and not my late husband’s.”
“I mean, Latinas can be white. I have a few friends from the Caribbean, and they all look so different. People can be ignorant sometimes.”
“Thank. You!” I shout, and we both laugh in agreement. Then, there’s silence. Comfortable silence. Where we’re sitting in this space of calm and peace and contentment, two partly broken people trusting each other with a piece of what’s left of our hearts.
I love this.
I don’t think I’ve made a friend in adulthood who didn’t come because of my core good friends. It feels good, like the first warm sunny day after a long winter. Yes, even if it’s a Florida winter.
My phone ringtone breaks the spell, startling us both, and I answer, clearing my throat. “Hey.”
“Okay, don’t be mad. We’ve been back in town for a while, but we’re baking at Tia Allie’s house,” a very loud Bella on the other end of the call shouts.
“That’s okay! It’s summer, not a school night, but if you give me a hard time tomorrow, I’m not going to be very happy.”
“I knew you were going to say that. Actually, Tia Allie knew too, which is why I’m calling. They said we can sleep over.”
“Who’s they?”
“Tia Allie and Cara.”
“Okay,” I whisper. Bella’s had sleepovers before, and I trust Allie and Cara with my life, but Vero struggles sleeping anywhere but at home.
