116 - Hair

*You don’t understand! I can’t use a brush like yours! I need a special brush. – Nicki*

There was a light rap on the door to Camille and Darkness’ room. Darkness moved from the bathroom to the main door. Camille sat in the center of their large bed with her red computer open in front of her and her sister, Charlotte, on a video chat.

“… the dogs, but the little Wolfie, I swear to god that child is my last, is tearing up everything he can reach.”

Camille laughed as Darkness opened the door and Mitch stepped inside.

“Hang on, Shar,” she told her sister as she swiped away tears from the corners of her eyes.

The boy had a look of concern and fear on his face as he nervously looked between Darkness and Camille. “Ummmm….”

“It’s okay, Mitch,” Darkness assured him, “just tell us what’s going on.”

“Nicki,” he finally said, still looking between the two.

“Camille,” Charlotte said softly. “*Hij heeft troost nodig*.”

She nodded and held out a hand to him, knowing that her sister was right. He needed comfort. “Come here, *zoon*.”

Uncertain of what to do, he looked up at Darkness who gave a small smile and tipped his head towards the bed. Mitch moved towards the large bed and crawled up next to Camille. She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

“Have you met my oldest sister, Charlotte?”

“*Hallo neefje*,” Charlotte said with a smile.

“Nay… Nayf- what?”

“*Neefje*,” Charlotte said with a little laugh. “You had it right, Nayf-yeh. Neigh, kind of like what a horse does, but with an F at the end. Nayf.”

“Nayf,” Mitch said.

“And then, yeh, like a really bad slang version of yeah,” Camille added.

“Yeh,” Mitch said with a grin.”

“So, now, together, nayf yeh,” Charlotte said across the computer screen.

“Nayf yeh,” Mitch said it slowly a few times before putting it together in a single word. “*Neefje*.”

“That’s it,” both sisters praised.

“What does that mean?”

“Nephew,” Charlotte said.

“I like that,” he smiled. “How do I say aunt.”

“I know this one!” Darkness called from the attached bathroom where he was shaving his head.  “*Tante*.”

“Really?” Mith asked looking up at Camille.

She nodded, “Yes, I’m *tante*, and he’s *oom*.”

“*Oom* Amos and *Tante* Camille and *Tante* Charlotte,” he said as he pointed to each one of them.

“Exactly,” Charlotte agreed as Camille kissed his temple. “*Neefje* Mitch.”

“What did you call me?” he asked Camille.

“*Zoon*,” she smiled, “it means son. It’s said kind of like zone, but the O is just a little bit longer.”

“Do you see me as your son?”

Wrapping him up in a hug, Camille rested her chin on his head. The course hair scratched at the tender skin of her neck and chin. “Only if you want me to,” she said discretely looking at her sister on the computer screen. “You can be *zoon*, or you can be *neefje*.”

Charlotte gave a small smile and the slightest nod that was almost imperceivable.

“Even if I do stuff that you don’t like?” Mitch asked with a small voice.

Hugging him tighter to her, Camille kissed the top of his head and looked towards her husband. In the past week, they had learned that Jasper and Keisha walked a fine line and were emotionally abusive. Bordering on physically abusive.

“Yes, baby, especially if you do something that I don’t like,” Camille assured him with her voice full of emotion.

“I want to be *zoon*.”

He whispered it so softly that even this close, Camille almost did not hear it. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard but was unable to stop the tear that slipped out of her eye and into his hair.

“Are you going to love Nicki and Vin the same way?”

“Unconditionally,” she assured him.

“I think Nicki needs you,” Mitch told her.

“Okay,” Camille looked over at Darkness who was getting ready to get in the shower.

“Perfect!” Charlotte declared. “You can tell me what all *Oma* sent you.”

“You good with that?” Camille asked him. “Hanging out with Tante Shar?”

He looked at the smiling woman on the computer screen.

“Oh,” Camille grinned at him, “you should ask her about her Playbill collection.”

Charlotte angled her computer to show the shelf behind her with hundreds of Playbill magazines on it. With them discussing her collection, Camille slid off the bed and moved to the bathroom.

“You okay?” she asked her husband.

Leaning down, he kissed her lightly, “I will be.” He glanced behind her, “We’ll talk later, go see Nicki.”

“Okay,” she turned and headed towards the door as Darkness told Mitch that he was getting in the shower.

Camille went barefoot down the stairs to the second floor. The air was a little cooler and she felt the goosebumps forming on her bare arms and legs as she approached Nicki’s room. It was not until after the second knock that the door was finally opened.

Looking at the young teen who had been crying, she opened her arms and Nicki moved into the embrace. Camille held the younger teen close to her as she guided them into the room and sat on the bed.

They sat there with the only sounds being the soft sniffles and tears, accentuated by Camille’s soft voice as she soothed the upset girl. Eventually, Nicki sat up and swiped the tears away with the back of her hands.

“I’m sorry,” Nicki murmured.

“For what?”

“Crying like that?”

She cupped Nicki’s cheeks between her hands and used her thumbs to wipe away the few remaining tears. “Listen to me, Nicki, you have had a shit year. Your school year got jacked all to hell. Your parents practically moved out because of this disease. Then they both died, and you weren’t able to say goodbye.  And now you’re living in a different city in a different state with two people that you barely know.”

“That does sound like a lot.”

“It is a lot,” Camille smiled. “And if you were not crying, that’s when I would worry.”

“Mom did not like the dramatic displays,” Nicki whispered.

“Well, my family is all about the dramatic displays,” she laughed as she hugged the girl and kissed her temple. “You’ll have to ask your uncle about the first time he ever went to the bar with my dad.”

“Did Amos get drunk?” Nicki looked up at Camille with a grin.

“No, my dad did. And then had Darkness drive him home where he proceeded to tell everyone in the house what he was going to do to my mother.”

Nicki’s eyes widened and then she laughed.

“Yup. Now, tell me what you were so upset over.”

“I can’t find my brush.”

“Okay, we’ll get you a new one.”

“It’s not that simple!” Nicki launched into a tirade about how her hair was different from Camille’s and how the care was different. Camille watched her pace and worked it out of her system. Eventually, with a sigh, Nicki sat on the inflatable mattress.

“Are you emotionally attached to the brush?”

“What? No.”

“Is it a family heirloom?”

“No.”

“Worth a lot of money?”

“No, not really, it’s just irresponsible.”

“I can’t tell you how many brushes I’ve lost over the years. What have you been using on your hair?”

Looking down, she shook her head, “I haven’t.”

“Okay, do you have a sleep bonnet?”

“I can’t find any.”

“I’ll go get you one of mine.” Camille smirked, “My best friend’s Momma Mickey does hair and swears by them. We’ll call Michaela in the morning, and she can tell us what we need to do with your hair.”

Nicki relaxed seeing that Camille was not upset.