Black (Clashing Colors Book 1) (17 page)

“Okay.”

“How was it?” he asked. “Better or worse than you feared?”

“Both. I felt physically sick when I saw her, but now, I feel so much lighter, almost like I’m high on Oxy pills or something.”

Bruce smiled. “You’re just high on endorphins and relief, and you should be – you did really well.”

“Thank you.”

“The next step for you is to forgive your mom. You don’t need to tell her if you don’t want to, but it’s an important part of releasing the past.”

“So you keep saying,” I said dryly.

“At least think about it, Cia. Forgiveness won’t change your past, but it’ll change your future.”

“Yeah, yeah, small steps, my friend.” I got up and walked toward the door. When I looked back over my shoulder I saw Bruce smiling at me.

“You look as pleased as a cat who just filled its tummy with milk and found a spot in the sun to take a nap,” I said.

“I am pleased,” he said with a smile on his face. “You can’t see it yet, but your life just took a monumental turn and I’m honored that I got to witness it. I’m truly proud of you, Cia.

It moved me deeply – this authoritarian figure expressing his pride for me. I’m sure my body was a grand mix of all sorts of hormones being pumped around, and that’s part of why I felt so emotional.

“Thanks,” I said and left before I did something lame, such as hugging the mad therapist.

CHAPTER 13

Money

Cia

On my last day at the camp I overheard Gabriel talking on the phone with his mom. He had kept in regular contact with her; I got the impression they were close.

“Sure, I can swing by in a few days. I’m heading home tomorrow morning.”

He was sitting on the bed with his back to me, but turned his head to see me when I came out of the steaming bathroom after my shower.

“I know, but it was a spontaneous thing. I needed this time alone to decompress and a cabin in the forest was the perfect place.” He winked at me as I stood with my towel around me.

He hadn’t told her about me but repeatedly explained that he was by himself. I understood his motives and rationally knew a phone wasn’t the best way to break the news of my existence, but on a deeper level it bothered me that Gabriel was treating me like a secret, just like my dad always had.

“Love you, Mom,” he said, ended the call, and reached his hand out to me. “Come here.”

I moved closer and he pulled me down on his right thigh and placed his arms around me.

“You’re still my daughter for one more day,” he said and leaned his head on my shoulder.

“I don’t think teen daughters sit on their father’s lap,” I said dryly.

“I’m going to miss this,” he said quietly.

“Me on your lap?”

“The closeness between us. It feels so natural to be around you and I’ve come to… really care for you over these two weeks.”

I gave him a smile. “Well, I’m still going to be around, you know, crashing on your couch and all.”

“I know…” he said, “But will you still allow me to touch you like this and call you sweetheart and precious?”

The answer was a loud all-engulfing
yes
, inside my head, but I played it cool. “Do you want to?”

He looked me deeply into my eyes. “Yeah, I want to.”

“Right, because family is important to you and I’m your niece?” I asked to clarify.

His brows knitted together and he opened his mouth to speak when there was a knock on the door.

“You get the door,” I said and disappeared into the bathroom with the small pile of clothes that was today’s outfit.

I could hear Gabriel talking to Bruce while I dressed in a pair of black, ripped denim shorts, and a loose mint-green t-shirt with a neckline wide enough to fall casually over one shoulder. I took a minute to study the print on the shirt, a cartoon skater girl with her arms crossed and a text saying “Who said I need your freaking approval to feel good about myself?”

It figured that my last teen outfit was the first I actually liked. I wondered if they would let me keep the t-shirt as a souvenir.

“What did Bruce want?” I asked when I returned to our bedroom.

Gabriel stood topless and was searching the closet for a clean t-shirt. I would never get tired of seeing his ripped body but as soon as he turned to look at me, I dropped my gaze to my hands.

“He wanted to know if you had finished the last painting.”

“Impatient much?” I muttered and went to pick it up. “Did you show it to him?”

“No, of course not. It’s your painting. You should show him yourself.”

All six paintings were done now, and this last one would be especially hard to part with.

Gabriel put on his t-shirt, hugged me from behind, and placed his head on top of mine. “I love that painting,” he said.

“Me too.”

We both stood for a while and just looked at it.

It was a portrait of me standing strong, with my blond hair blowing in the wind, and an expression of determination on my face. I was wearing my black pants and my military boots with my left hand victoriously in the air, clutching a wig of long black hair.

My other hand was tearing off a black button-down shirt, revealing that underneath I had a Superwoman costume on.

Ten minutes later when we brought it to Bruce he, of course, had his own interpretation of my painting.

“I see you have torn off your black façade and found your inner strength,” he said and gave me a nod of approval.

“Yeah, pretty much, although I don’t feel like a hero or anything,” I emphasized.

“Cia, sit down for a moment.” Bruce pointed to a chair. “I like your paintings.”

“Thank you.”

“I mean, I don’t know much about art so my opinion isn’t worth much, but I know someone who does know about art.”

Gabriel sat down too. “Who?” he asked.

“Darren, a former client that I helped a few years ago. I remembered him when I saw your first portrait of G, because he always sends me invitations to his art gallery in Seattle, and I thought that I would ask for his guidance on how best to help you. I called him last week and we discussed ways for you to make money off your talent and came up with different ideas.”

“Such as?” I asked.

“Well, to mention a few, you could illustrate children’s books, or work at paid company events painting portraits. And of course there’s the option of teaching art classes to children or others who want to learn. Anyway, he asked me to send him photos of your paintings, so he could spread them around in his network to see if someone has a job for you.”

“And?” I asked and almost held my breath.

“And he called me today with good news.”

I moved to the edge of my chair. “Someone has a job for me?”

“Not yet, but he was so impressed with your paintings that he wants to do an exhibition with your paintings in his gallery.”

“What?” Gabriel cried out and broke into a huge grin. “That’s amazing, sugar.”

I could hardly breathe. “What does that mean?”

Bruce pushed his glasses up on his nose. “From what I understand, he’ll exhibit the paintings and invite people who love art to come see them and buy them. He gets a cut and you get the rest.”

“But I don’t own the paintings, they belong here.” I said. “I’ll have to create new ones.”

Bruce made a “tsk-tsk” sound and waved a hand dismissively. “Of course you own the paintings, Cia, I just wanted you to express your emotions as part of the therapy. If you want to donate one of the paintings to our facility we would be honored, but you’re welcome to take them all with you when you leave.”

I resolutely went to the row of pictures leaning against the wall. “I want you to have this one,” I said and picked up the one with the two hands he had loved so much, and handed it to him.

“My favorite one,” he said and smiled. “Thank you, Cia, I hope to see you make good money off your art and I will cherish this painting.”

“So what happens now? Are we done now?” I asked and sat down again.

“No, today we will sum up what has happened these past two weeks, which means a lot of reflection. I’m happy that you’ll move in with Gabriel when you leave tomorrow morning, and hopefully you’ll have a job and a place to live before he moves to Missouri in a few months. We’ll continue with weekly phone sessions, and I’ll write a report for your court hearing.”

“All right, sounds good.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair. “So let me ask you this, Cia, did you achieve what you came for?”

I was trying to think back to my first day at the camp. The anger I had been consumed by. The anxiety that had filled my thoughts, and the defensive attitude I had portrayed to the world. It seemed like a complete shift had occurred, and even though I was still scared of the upcoming court hearing, I hadn’t missed the oxycodone pills as much as I had thought I would.

“I don’t even remember what I said I wanted to achieve,” I said and looked at Gabriel. “Wasn’t it something about money?”

Bruce answered before Gabriel. “Our primary goal was to get you off the oxycodone pills and you said that in order to not need them, you needed money, remember?”

“Yes, and you translated money as a place to stay and food and stuff,”

Bruce nodded. “Safety and security.”

“Then I suppose I kind of got what I came for.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m leaving here with a job, but there’s the potential of making money at the exhibition –and more importantly, I feel so much better inside than when I came. I’m well rested, I’m well fed, and…” I looked at Gabriel. “G has given me more hugs and kisses these past two weeks than in my twenty-one years combined.

Gabriel grinned. “What can I say, I like to cuddle.”

“What do you think of our methods?” Bruce asked.

Gabriel and I exchanged a glance and then we broke into a loud snicker. “Oh, your methods are crazy. To be honest I don’t even think they’re legal, but hey… I feel better and stronger than I have ever felt before, so I can’t really be angry with you.”

“Which part was the hardest for you?” Bruce asked.

“The diaper, definitely the diaper.”

Bruce frowned. “Interesting. I would have thought you would say the part about letting your daddy bathe you.”

He turned to Gabriel. “What part was the most challenging for you?”

Gabriel looked thoughtful. “Seeing Cia upset and crying was the hardest part. It’s been some emotionally intense weeks, for sure.”

“Will you two keep in contact when you move to Missouri?” Bruce asked.

“Absolutely,” Gabriel said at the same time as I said, “I hope so.”

I spent the afternoon writing down reflections on my life so far and what I’d learned from my time in the camp. Seeing my milestones on paper made me realize how I had grown and become someone else.

Someone comfortable in a man’s presence. Someone who had been strong enough to confront my mother, someone able to channel my emotions into my art. Someone owning my sadness and darkness as part of me instead of letting it completely consume me.

It was a small miracle what two weeks of full-time therapy, good food, plenty of sleep, peaceful nature, and the loving care of a family member had done to me.

Bruce and Gabriel had shown me that life could be more than just survival, and I was ready to go out and live it.

CHAPTER 14

The man in the Painting

Gabriel

After our last dinner at the camp, Cia was busy talking to the weird guy who had been a baby for a week. He was a child now and she was the only one he would talk to. His mom had told me a few days ago that they had already tried traditional treatments to help him with his anxiety, but after his fifth suicide attempt it had been recommended to them to call Dr. Bruce.

I had to admit the guy looked much better than when he arrived, and Cia even managed to make him smile at times.

“G, do you have a minute?” Bruce called out to me from the doorway.

“Sure.” I got up and followed him down the hallway to the dining room, where Cia’s paintings were placed on the dining room table.

“I thought we should wrap these for your drive tomorrow,” he said.

“All right.” I picked up the role of bubble wrap and carried it to the table, when he spoke again.

“You still believe he’s helping her float?” I followed his gaze to the blue painting where Cia was floating on water with my hands covering her private parts.

I nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“You know,” he said thoughtfully. “The more I look at that picture, the more I worry for that man.”

“Why?”

He looked closer. “Do you see his face? How is he breathing?”

I looked at the painting. “I don’t know, it’s just a symbolic painting of me bathing her.”

“Well, maybe you should think about it, because if he truly is helping her float, then what’s going to happen to her when he drowns?”

“What are you saying?”

He frowned and looked at me with one of his freaky X-ray glances.

“Tell me about your feelings for Cia.”

“Ehh…” It wasn’t the first time he had put me on the spot. Bruce and I had shared walks in the forest and talks around the bonfire about Cia, but also about my time in Afghanistan and my nightmares. I had come to the conclusion that helping others wasn’t just a job to him, it was embedded in his persona. He couldn’t switch it off.

“I care about her,” I said.

“Do you lust for her?” he asked and I jerked back.

“No.”

He held up both palms. “No judgment.”

I swallowed a few times. “I don’t lust for her,” I lied. “But sometimes I get a little confused about my feelings for her.”

“Confused how?”

I exhaled deeply. “It’s all so entangled that I’m afraid I might confuse one feeling for another.”

“Like what?”

“Argh, it’s hard to put in words, but it’s like when a bartender hands you a drink with a bit of everything and asks you: can you taste what’s in it?”

“Fair enough, but try to tell me some of the emotions you can identify.”

“Okay…” I said and looked at him. “Sympathy, empathy, pity, and shame would be just a few, and then there are moments when I feel something close to love.”

Bruce whistled low. “Wow, a powerful cocktail like that could cause you a heavy headache.”

“I know, right?”

I picked up the picture with the floating man. “I got thrown into this, but Cia is amazing and I’ve learned so much about myself these past two weeks.”

Bruce wrapped one of the pictures and stopped midway. “You’re right, she is amazing… but also very troubled.”

I arched a brow. “Not compared to when I first met her.”

Bruce took a step closer and placed a hand on my shoulder. “G, listen to me. Cia still has a long way to go. Please don’t make the mistake of thinking that from now on she’s going to be all chirpy and fine.”

“I won’t,” I said.

“Good!” he nodded softly. “I admire what you do for her and that you’ve taking her under your wing, but don’t enter into a sexual relationship with her unless you are really serious about it.”

I tensed up. I had never told him about my physical attraction to her.
How the fuck does he know? Did he finally find the recording of us showering together?

“You have nothing to worry about,” I said. “Cia and I don’t see each other like that. We’re just really good friends now.”

He chuckled. “Nice try, G, I may have glasses, but I’m not blind. You two
can play role-plays and pretend you’re family all you want, but it’s not blood that you share. It’s a mutual attraction.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued. “Just be warned that once you cross that line with her,
you won’t be able to go back to being just uncle and niece. It will be all or nothing with her.”
He patted my shoulder a few last times before he changed the subject and started talking about the Seahawks last season.

⦓∞
⦔

During our three-hour long drive back to Seattle, Cia was a lot more talkative than when we drove from Seattle to the camp two weeks ago. She was dressed in the clothes we had bought her in Ocean Shores, and looked healthy and happy as she chatted excitedly about her upcoming exhibition and about the hikes we had taken the last days.

In the meantime Bruce’s warning ran through my mind several times. He was right. I was the only family member she had a connection with, and no matter how much I wanted to know how it would feel like to be inside of her and hear her moan my name, I couldn’t screw that up for her. Besides, I was moving to Missouri in a little over three months and wasn’t looking for a long-distance relationship.

Fuck!
My head was so confused. Why was I even contemplating hooking up with Cia? Blood related or not, she was still my brother’s daughter and I needed to get a freaking grip on myself.

I will keep my distance,
I promised myself and in that moment, I really intended to.