Chapter 90 -
Nia took the paper with trembling hands. It was a drawing done in crayon, the kind of art that only made sense if you were five or loved someone who was five. There were stick figures with triangle dresses and blocky houses and a sun in the corner that had a smiling face.
“This one is you,” Gabriel said, pointing to a stick figure with long brown hair. “And this one is me. And this is Uncle Leo. See? He is taller than everyone else.”
Nia stared at the drawing. The stick figure that was supposed to be Leo was indeed taller than the others, standing slightly apart from the group with what looked like a scowl drawn on its circular face.
“It is beautiful,” Nia said, and her voice cracked on the last word.
“Are you crying?” Gabriel asked. He leaned closer, peering up at her face with concern. “Did my picture make you sad? I can draw a different one if you want. Maybe with a dog this time. Dogs are always happy.”
“No,” Nia said quickly. She set the drawing down on the nightstand, next to the cold breakfast Rosa had brought earlier. “Your picture is perfect, Gaby. I am just… I am very tired. That is all.”
Gabriel frowned, his little face scrunching up the way it did when he was thinking hard about something. “Matteo said you are sick. But you do not look sick. You just look sad.”
“Sometimes being sad makes you feel sick,” Nia explained. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “It is complicated.”
“Why are you sad?” Gabriel asked. He settled himself more comfortably against the pillows, clearly planning to stay for a while. “Did someone make you sad? Was it Uncle Nardo?”
Nia’s breath caught in her throat. “Why would you think it was Uncle Leo?”
“Because he makes everyone sad sometimes,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “Mama says he has a gift for it. What is a gift for making people sad? Is it like a birthday present but the opposite?”
Despite everything, Nia felt a laugh bubble up in her chest. It came out watery and broken, but it was still a laugh. “Your mama is very smart.”
“I know,” Gabriel said. “She knows everything. Well, almost everything. She still cannot find me when I hide behind the big plant in the library.” He kicked his feet against the mattress, his shoes leaving small smudges on the expensive fabric. “So did Uncle Nardo make you sad?”
“It is complicated,” Nia said again.
“Adults always say that when they do not want to explain things,” Gabriel observed. “Papa says it all the time. And Mama. And Uncle Nardo especially. He says it so much that I think it is his favorite word.”
“What else does Uncle Leo say?” Nia asked, then immediately regretted it. She should not be pumping a five-year-old for information about his uncle. That was wrong on multiple levels.
But Gabriel was already talking, happy to have an audience. “He says lots of things. Like do not touch that, Gabriel. And get down from there, Gabriel. And where did you learn that word, Gabriel, because I need to have a talk with Micheal.” He giggled at the memory. “Uncle Mikey teaches me the best words.”
“I bet he does,” Nia muttered.
“Uncle Nardo also talks in his sleep sometimes,” Gabriel continued, swinging his legs. “When I sneak into his room at night because I have bad dreams. He says names I do not know. And sometimes he sounds really sad.”
Nia’s hands tightened around her knees. “You should not sneak into his room, Gaby. He might not like that.”
“He does not mind,” Gabriel said confidently. “He always lets me stay. He says the bed is big enough for both of us and that bad dreams are not as scary when you are not alone.” He looked up at Nia with those too-wise eyes. “Do you have bad dreams, Miss Nia?”
“Sometimes,” Nia admitted.
“Is that why you are hiding in your room?” Gabriel asked. “Because of bad dreams?”
“Something like that,” Nia said.
Gabriel was quiet for a moment, his little face serious as he processed this information. Then he reached out and patted Nia’s arm with his small hand, the gesture so earnest and sweet that it made tears burn behind her eyes again.
“You can come sleep in my room if you want,” he offered. “I have lots of stuffed animals. They are very good at keeping bad dreams away. Especially Mr. Whiskers. He is a bear but his name is Mr. Whiskers because I was three when I named him and I did not know that bears do not have whiskers.”
“That is very kind of you,” Nia said. She covered his small hand with hers, squeezing gently. “But I think I need to stay in my own room for now.”
“Why?” Gabriel asked. “Is it because you are still sick? Or still sad? Or both?”
“Both,” Nia said quietly.
“Oh.” Gabriel thought about this for a moment. “Mama gets sad and sick sometimes too. Papa says it is because she has too many feelings and they get all tangled up inside her like knots. Is that what happened to you? Did your feelings get tangled?”
“Yes,” Nia said, because that was probably the most accurate description she had heard yet. “My feelings got very tangled.”
“That is okay,” Gabriel said. He patted her arm again. “Mama says that feelings are supposed to be tangled sometimes. That is how you know they are real and not pretend. Pretend feelings are easy. Real feelings are hard.”
“Your mama is very wise,” Nia said.
“I know,” Gabriel agreed. “She knows everything.” He tilted his head, studying Nia with an intensity that was unnerving coming from someone so small. “Did Uncle Nardo tangle your feelings?”
Nia opened her mouth to deflect, to change the subject, to say something that would redirect this conversation away from dangerous territory. But Gabriel was looking at her with such genuine concern, such innocent curiosity, that she found herself telling the truth instead.
“Yes,” she said simply. “He did.”
“I knew it,” Gabriel said with satisfaction. “He is very good at tangling feelings. Mama says so. She says Uncle Nardo could tangle feelings even when he was trying to be nice, which is why she stopped trying to be his friend a long time ago.”
“That sounds like something your mama would say,” Nia said.
Gabriel nodded seriously. Then he crawled closer, wiggling until he was sitting right next to Nia, his small body pressed against her side. “You know what helps when feelings are tangled?”
“What?” Nia asked.
“Hugs,” Gabriel declared. Then, without waiting for permission, he wrapped his little arms around Nia’s waist and squeezed tight. “See? Hugs make everything better.”
And despite everything, despite the heartbreak and the humiliation and the certainty that nothing would ever be okay again, Nia felt something loosen in her chest. She wrapped her arms around Gabriel, pulling him close, and let herself take comfort in the unconditional affection of a child who saw the world in simple terms where hugs fixed tangles and drawings made sad people happy.
“Thank you, Gaby,” she whispered into his messy hair.
“You are welcome,” Gabriel said, his voice muffled against her side. “Do you feel better now?”
“A little,” Nia admitted.