Knowing Kiara

6

"So...church? And a dog shelter?"

It was absurd of me to think I could have walked away from that conversation and had a second to myself.

I'm glad it's Rowan of all people. I know I can always depend on him to say exactly what I need to hear. Although sometimes conversations with him feel like free therapy sessions, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Uncle Rowan had to mature at a young age when Nonna and Nonno Wiley passed away and their family unit went from four to just him and Dad. Rowan being the older brother automatically took on the responsibility of trying to be all of the family that Dad needed.

They had great auntie Quinn who in her day took them in as her own and provided them with all they would need, but Rowan still felt protective over Dad, especially after Nonna and Nonno's car accident.

Rowan was only seventeen. Between this and his and Dad's new acting careers, Row missed out on those precious years of parties, new adulthood and freedom in exchange for enrolling Dad into therapy, cooking dinners and scouting new gigs for the two of them.

The more I've realised this over the years, the more I've attempted to make it up to him by lessening the load on his plate and encouraging him to have hobbies.

Key word being 'attempted'. A tiger can't change his stripes the same way uncle Rowan can't stop slaving away at the stove or interrogating Dad and I like a psychologist.

I sit up to make room for him on my bay window futon and when he sinks into the cushions I lay back down, resting my head in his lap.

He knows how this usually goes down with us by now. This is my silent plea for him to play with my hair, just like the old days when him and Dad would try to soothe me to sleep after my bath-time tantrums.

Even as a petulant three year old I was too stubborn to explicitly ask them to so I've always wordlessly plonked my head on their legs and they know exactly what to do to relax my frazzled nerves.

It's an understatement to say I need some of that relaxation after the day I've had.

"I'm not having a religious crisis Zio. There's a homeless shelter set up on the field there every day. I was helping serve food."

My eyes flutter shut as his gentle fingers run from my scalp to the ends of my now wavy red hair.

"Hmm. Well what's brought on your Ellen Degeneres awaking Hon?"

Maybe in another context that question would peeve me off but Rowan's intentions are pure and curious.

I'm scared to answer him honestly. Not because he won't understand, he more than anyone understands going to questionable lengths to make the people you've lost proud as they watch over you.

I'm just scared to delve so deep into this conversation, especially when I wish deep down that Dad was here for it too, holding my hand.

"I just didn't realise what a sacrifice she made...all for me. Felt like it would help me feel better if I done something I know would make her proud of me."

Facing away from him helps me summon the courage to truthfully admit my logic behind my spontaneous charity today.

It was easy without his attentive, intelligent eyes picking up every emotion and feeling I experience.

Until he grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him that is.

His face is completely stupefied. His forehead is creased, mouth agape.

"Speaking as someone who literally raised you, watched you grow up and knows you inside out...everything you are is already making Lucia the proudest angel up there."