Fear of Loss
Naomi doesn't let people in. Not anymore.
All her life she's lost the people she cares about. First it was her father. Before she had even been born he left her. That set the tone for the rest of her life. When she was a baby, she couldn't understand the impact that not having a dad would have on her. It was when she was six years old that it finally hit her that there was a vital person missing from her life.
She's been sitting on the playground at the end of the school day waiting for her mum to come and pick her up when she looked around at all the other kids. She specifically watched her friend Ruby as she ran up to her daddy and gave him a massive hug before showing him the painting she'd done in art class that day. She watched the beaming smile appear on her father's face and watched him pick her up effortlessly and put her on his shoulders for the walk home. When Naomi's mother arrived, she walked home quietly, thoughts running around her head. It wasn't until they sat down to dinner (chicken nuggets, Naomi remembers as though it were yesterday) that she said anything.
"Why don't I have a dad?" she asked quietly, flicking a stray pea around her plate.
"Because you're dad wasn't a very nice person," was the answer she got. She'd accepted it; her mum had busied herself clearing away the plates almost immediately so she didn't have time to ask any more questions. She understands now why her mum reacted the way she did, she's had the proper conversation about her father now that she's old enough to understand, but when she was six, she still had so much she wanted to ask.
When she was eight she lost her best friend, Joe. Naomi had always been a bit of a tomboy when she was little, and had met Joe when she joined the local football team. They'd go to the park, or to each other's houses every weekend and play football together, swap Pokémon cards and play their favourite game, Goldeneye on the Nintendo. One weekend her mum came into her room while she was getting dressed, sat her down on her bed and knelt in front of her, taking her hands with a solemn look on her face.
"Joe's mother rang me up this morning sweetheart," she began, "Joe is very sick and he's had to go to the hospital."
"What's wrong with him?" Naomi'd asked straight away, "I've been sick loads of times but I've never had to go to the hospital."
"He's got a brain tumor, love," Gina had moved to sit next to Naomi on the bed and wrapped her arm around her.
"Is that bad? Can I go see him?" Naomi had a lot of questions, she didn't understand what a brain tumor was, but from the way her mum was acting, it couldn't be good.
"He's got to have an operation, but I'll talk to his mum, ask if he's up to seeing you before it, okay?" With that her mum gave her a quick squeeze and left the room to phone Pauline, Joe's mum.
They made the trip to Great Ormond Street the next day. Naomi had been in awe; there were coloured footprints on the floor directing them where to go, and pictures of parrots and other jungle animals on the walls. It was all so colourful; she didn't think this was a bad place to be at all. When they got to Joe's room she was nervous, he was hooked up to all sorts of machines and it made him look like an alien. When they walked in though, Joe gave his usual cheeky grin and she was instantly at ease again. Joe had a games console in his room, and although they didn't have Goldeneye they managed to enjoy themselves playing a basketball game instead. When it was time to go home, Naomi gave Joe a big hug and told him to "Get better soon, I need someone to beat at football." He'd laughed, "You wish," and Naomi and her mum waved goodbye.
That was the last time she ever saw Joe.
Her mum didn't take her to the funeral. Thought it would be too traumatic for her. Joe's mum had come round and given her his old football. She never played with it, too afraid she'd kick it over a fence and lose it forever, instead she kept it safe in her room, got a stand for it and put it on the shelf next to a framed picture of her and Joe in their football kits.