Seeing Julia by Katherine Owen

his notebook and peruses his handwriting. “What do Evan’s parents want you to be?”
    “They … they would surely like me to hand over Reid and never return.” I reward him with a cynical smile.
    Dr. Bradley Stevenson just nods. “You’re Reid’s mother. In time, when you’re ready, you can establish the ground rules with them. You don’t have to do that, right now. They’ll always be his grandparents. There will be ties, connections because of Reid, but you’re your own person, Julia. And they’re grieving the loss of Evan, too; and, maybe not considering your feelings as much as they should.”
    I clasp my hands together and attempt to control my irritation with the simple way he’s seeing these things. “Evan always denied their preference for Elizabeth over me, but it was there. It was easy to see. How they spoke of her all the time, when I was right there . I thought, maybe, after Reid was born, things would change, like they did for Evan and me. But they didn’t. Then, Evan … dies.” This conversation thread serves no purpose. “It doesn’t matter.”
    “It all matters. But it takes time to work through it, for everyone to work through it. Paris for a couple of months might be good for you. Kimberley will be there; right?”
    “Paris might be good for me,” I parrot back to him. “Kimberley’s running the Paris office there, right now. And, Christian and Stephanie are close by. They split their time between New York and Paris. They’ve always been there for me. All of them.”
    “Friends are always good to lean on.”
    He hesitates before adding, “But Julia, you’re perfectly capable of handling things; know this about yourself. You’ve been through more than most experience over a lifetime. Take your time to discover what you want; more importantly, what you need.”
    “Wants. Needs. As if, there’s a difference.” He wanly smiles at my sarcasm.
    “There’s a difference. What we need often has nothing to do with what we want. What do you need in your life, Julia?”
    I struggle to find the right response. I should just make something up that sounds good, but the truth meets up with me. “I need someone … to see me.” A vague image of Bobby comes to mind and morphs into a clearer one of Jake Winston. I look over at him, study his face, and try to gauge his trustworthiness. “The real Julia, not the one everybody thinks they know, but the one I’ve always been inside, the one few people really see, besides Kimmy. Bobby.” I’m babbling like an overexcited teenager at a rock concert; I dig my nails into my palms to stop the soliloquy. Why am I telling him all this?
    “Did Evan see you, Julia?”
    My answer sums up the whole session. “He wanted to.”
    “You told me once you changed the color of your hair, your looks, even your name. Maybe, you need to start there. Show the world who you really are, by being who you really are.” He rewards me with this all-knowing look so similar to Kimberley’s; it’s uncanny.
    The man is the personification of a Hallmark greeting card come to life; he believes in all he’s saying. It just emanates from him—this belief system in needs and wants and gods and angels and all the good in the world. I’ll be touched by his words and be saved.
    But my own reality rushes in, a cruel reminder of the truth of this world, of this life I already know so well. This hoodoo voodoo greeting card script he adheres to is giving me a headache and stirring up too much of the pain I keep buried deep inside. Who I am? What I might need? Who gets those kinds of answers about life? Doesn’t everyone struggle to be seen?
    “Show the world who you really are,” he says, again, breaking through my reverie.
    “I’ll think about it.”
    We spend what little time we have left talking about Reid, my support system, Kimberley in particular, and how I’m handling the dosage of my medication. At the end of our session, he hands me a business card with a