Chuy placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back to him. “Believe it or not, I do. I’ve been there.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. She’d always known Chuy to be a glass-half-full kind of guy—always smiling and teasing. She gazed into his eyes now and saw that he was serious. She wanted to tell him, to share with him why she didn’t have the energy to go on anymore, but she couldn’t. He already had a lot of responsibility to carry for a twenty-three-year-old. He didn’t need her problems, too.
“You’ll be more comfortable with the pillow.” His voice was gentle as he tenderly lifted her and tucked the pillow behind her head. “You’re not always going to feel this way.”
Naomi’s eyes pricked with tears, and her throat grew thick. As much as she and Chuy fought, she knew he loved her, and it pained her to know she’d hurt him. She wished that he hadn’t been the one to find her that way.
“I want to believe that,” she said softly.
He brushed her hair off her face and kissed her forehead. “Then do. Have faith, Naomi. We’re family. I’ll always be here to help you, no matter what.”
She blinked. It was the same thing she’d heard in her dream. What were the chances of that happening?
“Where’s Welita?” She hated that she was putting her grandmother through this. Though now reflecting on it, it would have been worse for Welita if she had died. She was so focused on her own misery; she wasn’t able to see how it would affect others around her.
“She’s in the chapel, praying for you,” he said. “She should be back in a few—”
“My granddaughter is not crazy! No, I don’t want to talk with anyone about putting her in a crazy house.”
Naomi and Chuy looked at each other as they heard Welita arguing in the hall.
“Oh, boy. Welita sounds like she’s in full form.” She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or afraid that her grandmother was taking charge.
“You should have heard her earlier. She kept looking over the nurse’s shoulder whenever she wrote into your chart. She told the nurse that she saw something on the news about medical mistakes and wanted to make sure that she didn’t make any.”
“Great. Now the nurse will have it in for me.”
“Or pity you.” Chuy grinned, trying to lighten the mood. He moved back to the seat near the window. “For once, I’m not the one in the hot seat.”
“Thanks a lot.” She didn’t know how he did it, but somehow Chuy always found a way to make her feel better.
The door swung open and Welita marched into the room. A woman with short chestnut hair, dressed in a navy skirt suit, followed close behind her.
“Ay, Mijita. You’re awake.” She dropped her heavy purse in Chuy’s lap.
Chuy grunted. “What do you have in this thing?”
Welita ignored him and headed straight to Naomi. “I prayed so hard for you.”
“I’m sorry, Welita.”
Welita wrapped her arms around Naomi. “Mijita, you know your family is always here for you.”
“I know.”
“You need to let us help you. If you’re sad, don’t keep it to yourself.”
“I know, Welita.” It felt so good to be with her and Chuy. She hated being in that dark hole she’d placed herself in since her father’s death. Part of her was glad that they knew she was having a difficult time. She felt a burden being lifted, knowing that she wasn’t alone in her grief.
Welita pulled back and kissed her cheek. “Don’t ever do that again.”
She gazed into Welita’s eyes and saw that she had really scared her grandmother. It was not an expression she had ever seen on Welita. Silently, she vowed she wouldn’t do it again.
“Excuse me, Naomi. I’m sorry to interrupt.” The woman stepped beside the bed.
“Who are you?” Naomi asked.
“I’m Cynthia Watson, a psychological intern assigned to you by the hospital.”
“Maybe now is not the best time.” Naomi knew what the woman was there for. She’d been flagged as mentally unstable.
“I’ll make this quick. Perhaps your family would like to step outside for a moment? Give us some privacy?” Mrs. Watson glanced at Chuy and Welita.
“I’m her grandmother,” Welita said. “I’m staying.”
“Naomi is a legal adult. She has a right to her privacy.”
“We don’t keep secrets in this family.” Welita stood and placed her hands on her hips.
Naomi glanced over to Chuy nervously. Mrs. Watson didn’t know what she was up against when it came to Welita. Chuy shrugged his shoulders.
“Mrs. Watson, whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of my family,” Naomi said.
“As long as you give your consent, I guess that’s fine. In most cases, I like to talk to the patient first and then bring in the family. It helps with building trust and rapport in the therapist-client relationship.”
“Her relationship is with her family,” Welita huffed.